Breaking Brooklyn (5 page)

I ran down the steps to protect my prize,
asking them what they thought they were doing with my
turkey.

“
This is your turkey?” my mother
yelled. “How in the world did you get a turkey?” She stood in front
of the cage, blocking my view of Grandpa Bob. I tried to see around
her, but I knew to pay attention when she was mad.

I started to answer, telling her about the
contest. She quickly interrupted, telling me she had no interest in
some bullshit made-up story about my artistry. I kept telling her
it was true.

“
I don’t want to hear it,
Jack!”

“
But Mom, he's my
friend!”

“
Goddam it, Jack! I don't need
this shit right now. You are nothing but a pain in my
ass!”

She glared at me with her all-too-familiar
look of resentment. A look that said “I wish you had never been
born.”

I waited for her to tell me how I was holding
her back. How she should have aborted me. How she should be a model
in New York City. She said nothing - the expression on her face
said it all.

I started to protest. Before I could continue,
my mother announced that the turkey was going to her cousin’s farm.
I knew what that meant. My friend was on his way to becoming
someone’s turkey dinner.

I begged for his life, but no one was
listening. At that point I lost it.

“
It’s not fair! He is my friend!
He needs me!”

“
Quit whining. You know I hate
when you do that,” my mother barked at me like an angry
dog.

Knowing I was powerless to stop what was about
to happen, I marched upstairs. I didn’t even saying goodbye to my
Turkey. When I got to my room, I felt like a coward. That turkey
liked me. I didn’t fight to try and save him. I was sure he would
feel like I abandoned him.

Taking out a piece of paper I began to draw.
It didn’t matter what is was. I just wanted to get far away. I
didn’t want to think about day I just had or the friend I just
lost.

Cindy

Chapter Four

“There are wounds that never show
on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that
bleeds.”
~ Laurell K. Hamilton

Cindy Napier’s Diary

January 12, 1978

Oh my god, I am two weeks late! My period is
always on time.  Like clockwork. Debbie agreed to come over
and take me to the drugstore to get a pregnancy test.  Thank
God she went in to buy it for me. I honestly can't imagine having
to do it myself.  We went straight back to Debbie’s house,
only to confirm what I had initially thought. I am pregnant! I
am only seventeen! Why? Why me? So many of my friends had sex with
their boyfriends. This didn't happen to them! I can't believe I’m
pregnant. I have no idea what I'm going to do.  I am too young
to have this baby. I guess I will either put it up for
adoption or have an abortion. I want a future. I want to move to
New York City and become a model.  That has been my dream ever
since I was old enough to remember. This cannot be happening
to me!

January 13, 1978

I would be lost without Debbie. After
making some phone calls and staying up all night we have come up
with a solution to the problem that’s growing inside me. The answer
is in Kentucky. It’s the closest state to Indiana that will allow
me to have an abortion without my mother’s consent.  We called
the clinic and made the appointment for January 15th. Debbie
has agreed to take me. We are going to tell both our parents that
we will be spending the day shopping at Glendale
Mall. 

When I made the appointment, the nurse said
that there might be some protesters outside the clinic.  She
said I should just ignore them and walk straight in as fast as I
can. I was told under no circumstance should I talk to anyone
outside of the clinic.  

January 14, 1978

I don’t know why I decided to write a letter
to my mother explaining what I was about to do, but I did. When I
was done I put it in the drawer in my bedside table.  I had no
intention of giving it to her right away, if ever. I just
needed to write out my feelings. This way if something happened to
me during the procedure she would know how I felt. How I got myself
in this mess. The letter gave details about my plan, my love for
her, and how sorry I was to disappoint her. 

Later that night Debbie and I were watching
The Sound of Music at her house when the phone rang. It was my
mother. She was crying hysterically, telling me that she had found
the note. She said she was on her way to pick me up. Did
I subconsciously want her to find out about my plan so she could
stop me? No, no way in hell!   She was probably just
being nosy going through my room and found it.  While I waited
for her to come get me I wondered how she was going to react. Was
she going to be furious that I did this behind her back or would
she understand and be supportive of me and my decision?  Am I
feeling a sense of relief that she knows? God I don’t know. I
guess deep down I want my mother to know and approve of my plan to
have this procedure. She is all I have now that my father is
nowhere to be found. She is the only person in my life who is here
for me.  I desperately need her.

Surely she wants me to have a life, to make
something of myself, and to finish high school and go to college.
She will agree that having the procedure is the best choice for me
and my future.

When my mother got to Debbie’s house she
didn’t bother to come in, she just honked her horn. She didn’t say
anything the whole way home. When we pulled into the driveway
she broke her silence telling me how late it was. How I needed my
rest. Walking me to my room she said goodnight.  To my
surprise she hugged me and began to sob. I thought, oh my God,
she does understand?  I’m sure she will go with me to
Kentucky. This whole thing will be over with soon. I will have
my mother’s acceptance, which is the most important thing to me.
Her next words changed everything.  

My Mother:
  "Cindy, you
will not be going to Kentucky tomorrow with Debbie or anyone else.
I will not allow you to kill your unborn baby.”

Me:
  “What? You are
crazy if you think you can stop me. I am going to have this done
whether you like it or not. It's my body, my
choice!!!”  

My mother told me that my only options would
be to have the baby or put it up for adoption. She didn’t even
bother to ask who the father was. She just assumed it was my
boyfriend Sam. She told me she would be calling Sam’s mother
to discuss the matter. Then I lost it.  I told her that Sam
didn’t know about the baby. How I wasn’t sure it was his  (Oh
God, how I wish I hadn’t told her that).  Besides, there
wasn’t going to be a baby anyway, so he didn’t need to know. I
screamed at her, telling her she couldn’t control me, that she had
absolutely no right do this to me. My last words to her were,
"I hate you! Get out!"

January 15, 1978

I snuck out of the house this morning before
my mother woke up. Debbie picked me up in her mom’s car and we left
for Kentucky. I was quiet most of the ride, knowing my mother was
going to be furious with me. When we got to the clinic all we could
hear were protesters yelling and shouting as we walked towards the
entrance. I was so nervous I couldn’t make out what they were
saying. It was all a bunch of white noise to me. When we
reached the front of the clinic it was lined with angry
faces. I could hear them shouting, “Murderer!” They begged me
to save the life that was growing inside of me. I just ignored them
and went inside.

In the reception area were mostly young women
like me. Most of them looked like they were in their 20s, but
a few looked older. After about 20 minutes, a nurse came out and
read off four last names. One of which was mine. The nurse led the
four of us back to a small room at one end of the hall. It looked
just like the reception area only much smaller. She handed each of
us a paper cup containing two pills. She gave us water and
instructed us to take the pills. She said they would help relax us
before the procedure.

After the nurse made sure we took our
medicine, she left. Shortly after, I started to feel
dizzy.  I was tipsy like I had drunk a few glasses of
wine. I thought about asking some of the other girls how they
came to their decision to have the procedure. Then I realized that
was not a good idea. None of the girls were making eye contact
or talking. So I decided it was best for me to just leave it
alone. After what seemed like a long time the nurse came back
and called my name. She escorted me down a long hallway to a
restroom where I changed into a gown. She then took me to the
place where they were going to do the
procedure.  

I felt present, but not really, like I was in
a dream, or rather the start of a nightmare. I saw three nurses
with blank stares on their faces. I was expecting the doctor
to come in and introduce himself. He just entered the room and
directed me to get on the table, put my legs in the stirrups, and
scoot down. He told me that I would hear a loud noise that would
sound like a vacuum. He continued to explain that I would feel some
cramping, but the procedure would only take a few
minutes.

I started thinking about my baby never having
the memory of life, never filling its lungs with the Earth's air,
and never experiencing love or fear. Who am I to deny this
baby growing inside of me these things?  Like my mother said,
it’s not the baby’s fault I got pregnant.  But how can I love
something that is the product of something so
awful? 

All of these thoughts were starting to make me
feel sick.  I couldn’t take it. I had to get out of there. I
could feel my mother's presence hovering over me like a ghost. I
stopped the doctor, telling him I didn’t want to go through with
the abortion.  

“
This is a common reaction, you
just need to relax. It will all be over in less than 15
minutes,” he explained.

All I could picture was my mother looking at
me with disappointment in her eyes. I told the doctor my mind was
made up, that I no longer wanted to have the procedure. He
immediately became irritated.

“
You have wasted my time! I
hope you understand that you will still have to pay for the
procedure,” he shouted.

I didn’t care. I just wanted to get the hell
out of there. When I got back to the car, I told Debbie I
couldn't go through with the abortion. She held my hand. I cried
all the way home. I was not ready to be a mother. Regret was
now filling my stomach with fear and doubt. I felt like I just made
the biggest mistake of my life.

January 25, 1978

I got home from the clinic an hour ago. I
can’t stop crying. While I am not ready to have a baby, I just
couldn’t go through with the abortion. My mother has gotten her
way. She has forced her will on me once again. Now, she keeps
asking whether or not I am 100 percent sure Sam is the father.
Sam’s mom must have questioned it when my mother called her. Sadly,
I have no idea who the father is. I am pretty sure it’s either Sam
or Mike. But Mike was a one-time thing and I just don’t think it
was him. Odds are its Sam. Plus, Sam is easy to explain to everyone
because we have been seeing each other for almost seven months now.
No one will question it, not even Sam.

I met Sam at the Riviera Club, my second home
in the summer. I first noticed him at the snack bar. I recognized
him from high school. He was a senior, very good looking, and very
popular. He has shaggy brown hair and light blue eyes that
accentuate his dark tan. Asking around, I found out that he had
broken up with Barbara, the girl he had been dating off and on in
that spring. I decided that I was going to be his “girl” that
summer. After I finally got his attention he introduced himself to
me. We instantly clicked and started dating. He is smart, kind, and
most of all fun! But I got bored. Summer was not a time to get tied
down. Besides, what Sam didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Yes, Sam has to be the father! He would
certainly be a good one. He is a hard worker in school, gets good
grades, and works at the Nora bowling alley on the weekends. He has
told me about his dreams of going to the police academy like his
father and grandfather. Most guys our age have no plan for their
life. Sam is motivated. He will be a good provider for me and our
baby.

The thought of making a life with Sam brings
some comfort to me even though I truly feel like my life is
basically over. Now, I just have to figure out when and where to
tell him. Maybe his mother already has? He has been avoiding me. I
bet that’s why.

March 1, 1978

I told him! Sam was surprised to see me at his
front door today. I told him there was something important we
needed to talk about. I informed him that I was pregnant. That he
was the father. At first he stared at me with a blank look on his
face. Like I was joking. Then strangely he smiled. I told him that
I needed his help to raise this child. That's when the seriousness
of the situation hit him. His facial expression dropped. Then his
body sort of closed in on itself as he glared back at me. Shaking
his head Sam had the nerve to question how this could have possibly
happened. He asked if I lied about being on the pill. That really
pissed me off! I laid into him good, telling him not to even think
this baby wasn’t his! He then told me the reason he had backed off
a bit in our relationship was because someone told him that I had
cheated on him with Mike Salinger.