“I’ve noticed that,” Jake says. “Now I get why.”
“When I missed my period, I was in total denial about it. I thought, okay, maybe it’s just stress. It’s not abnormal for women to miss a period, and sometimes it has nothing to do with pregnancy. But when I was two months late, I took a test.”
I’ll never forget how my stomach dropped when I saw the plus sign on that pee stick. The first thing I did was call Eric, who was less than helpful.
“Eric said it was no big deal and we’d get it taken care of. But he was right in the middle of playoffs, so his schedule was chaotic. He promised he’d take me but not until after the playoffs.”
Jake frowns deeply. “How long were you expected to wait?”
“A few weeks. But I did some research and found out the procedure is perfectly safe at three months. And before you ask, yes, I wanted to get it done. I didn’t want a baby. I was only sixteen. And Eric didn’t want a baby, either.”
Sadness washes over me as I remember those days. I’d been so terrified. “I couldn’t go alone,” I explain to Jake. “I was too scared, and way too humiliated to tell my cousins or any of my friends, and especially not my father. I needed Eric to take me, and we had it all planned out. He would have more time after the playoffs, and he’d drive me to Boston and we would get it done there.”
Jake runs his hand up my arm in a comforting gesture. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I… I didn’t actually get the abortion,” I confess. “We had the appointment booked, but we never made it. I started bleeding one morning a few days before it. Well, spotting. I looked it up online, and most of the websites said that spotting during the first trimester was normal. I called Eric, and he went online too and concluded it didn’t sound like a big deal.”
“Where was he?”
“In Newport with his teammates. They were playing their semifinal round that afternoon. He said he’d check in with me after the game, and he did. I was still spotting but not too heavily.” I shake my head irritably. “Eric’s team crushed their opponent, so they were going out to celebrate. I asked him to come home, but he said there was no point because it was probably nothing, and he told me not to say anything to my dad.”
“So you just sat there at home, bleeding?” Jake says in dismay.
“Yes and no. Like I said, it started off really slow. Eric told me not to worry about it, and even I thought I was probably freaking out for no reason. So I ignored it and hoped the bleeding would go away. I had dinner with my dad, watched a movie in my room. And then a couple hours later, it went from spotting to…not spotting.” My throat tightens. “I called Eric again and told him it was getting worse and that I was going to tell my dad I needed to go to the hospital. And he said no way, because he didn’t want my dad to find out and kill him.”
“Selfish prick.”
I feel sick as I relive that terrifying night. “Eric decided to come back and take me to the hospital himself. He said to sit tight, and that he was on his way and would get there as soon as he could. He was two hours away.”
“And your father was right downstairs?”
The incredulity in Jake’s expression makes me swallow a lump of shame. “I get it, I’m a fucking idiot. I already know that, okay?” Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and I hurriedly swipe them away.
“No, I’m not calling you an idiot,” Jake says instantly, reaching for my hand. “I swear I’m not. I totally understand—you were scared. You were sixteen, and the guy who was supposed to support you chose to keep partying with his friends instead of driving home the second you told him you thought something was wrong.” Jake sounds furious on my behalf, and it’s actually kind of sweet.
I nod. “And at that point, I wasn’t going to risk waiting another two hours for Eric to show up. If he even did show up.”
“So you told your father?”
“I never got the chance.” My voice cracks. “I’d been bleeding all day long, and now it was nine o’clock at night, and I was feeling so weak and light-headed. When I stood up I was hit by a wave of dizziness and I passed out in the bathroom, and that’s how my father found me.” Queasiness pulls at my stomach. “Lying in a huge pool of blood. We actually had to tear out the bathroom floor after that, because the bloodstains wouldn’t come out.”