Falling Up (12 page)

She goes up to the reception area and tells them she has an appointment. They give her some forms to fill out, and we both go and sit in the waiting area. Okay, now here is the embarrassing truth—I don't want to be sitting in this chair. I don't want to touch anything. I don't want to be here at all. This place feels horribly evil to me. It's wrong. Totally wrong.

I glance over at Natalie, but she's completely composed, focused on filling out the form. And I know I better just keep my mouth shut. This is her life, not mine. But man, do I want to scream! So much so that my throat is actually starting to ache.

Finally, she finishes the form and returns it the receptionist. She comes back and sits down, crossing her legs and arms, almost as if to protect herself.

“Natalie?” I say quietly, almost a whisper. “You don't have to keep this appointment, you know. We could just leave, slip out of here, and you could go to another doctor, a regular doctor, maybe even my doctor, and—”

“I don't have money for that,” she snaps.

“Maybe I could help you—”

“No.” She turns and looks at me with angry eyes. “I told you I really need your help today, Km. And what you're doing right now is NOT helping. Do you get that?”

“But, Nat—”

“Kim!”

I glance around, curious as to whether we're drawing attention since our voices have gotten louder, but the other people, mostly women and a few children, seem absorbed in their own lives and problems. We don't matter to them at all.

“Natalie McCabe?” calls a woman.

Nat looks over to the door and nods, then slowly stands, looking back at me with wide blue eyes.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” I ask meekly.

She just shakes her head. “No, I'll be okay.”

“But, Nat—”

Then she walks away, goes through the door, and I'm left here to wonder, to speculate, to imagine. Okay, is this really just a “checkup” appointment like she said, or is it possible she's actually going in there to get an abortion? I've heard that women just walk into this place, have the procedure, and then walk out like it's no big deal. Is it possible that Nat is doing that today?

But how can that be? She's not even an adult. You can't get your ears pierced or a tattoo without parental consent. You can't even get an aspirin from the school nurse without a note from home or the doctor. How could it be that Nat might be having a dangerous surgical procedure, one that some people consider murder, and I'm the only one who knows about it? The mere idea is so freaky that I'm starting to feel sick to my stomach.

Finally, I am so antsy and worried I can no longer sit
still. I get up and start pacing. I read all the notices on the bulletin boards. I pick up a dog-eared parenting magazine and absently thumb through it. I consider using the restroom just to waste time, but the idea of touching anything in there, or here for that matter, is really getting to me. It's like I can feel a great big case of obsessive-compulsive disorder coming on. God, help me!

I feel like I can't breathe. It's like I have to get outside or I'm going to suffocate. I start to head for the front door but then remember that the street is out there, someone might see me, so I hurry to the back door instead. When I get out to the parking lot, I practically gasp to catch my breath.

“Looks like you need a cigarette break too,” says a woman who's sitting on a bench by the back door as she lights up a cigarette.

“No,” I tell her, moving away. “Just some fresh air.”

I go over to the Jeep, unlock the door, and then just stand there. Its not like I can get in and leave. I lean over slightly, forcing myself to take some big deep breaths. And I tell myself that I'm acting totally stupid. Natalie is not getting an abortion. She is just getting checked. Lighten up, Kim!

But I can still feel my heart racing, and I know I'm on the verge of tears. The idea of Nat in there, doing God only knows what—well, it's just too much. It makes me feel sick and hopeless and really, really sad. And more than anything else, I really want my mom right now! I want to
run to her and tell her what Natalie's doing and how its upsetting me and how I just can't take this anymore. I want her to put her arms around me, stroke my hair, and say “Kimmy, its going to be okay Everything's going to be okay” But she can't do that anymore.

Finally I get inside the Jeep, and leaning my head against the steering wheel, I try to pray. But it's like the words are stuck inside of me. I try and try to pray—but I can't. And finally I just break down and cry. For a long time.

When I stop crying and look at my watch, I'm shocked to see it's nearly three o'clock. I lock up my Jeep and hurry back inside, worried that Natalie's appointment is over and that she thinks I've abandoned her, so she's gone off and called a taxi. And when I get back inside, I don't see her anywhere. So I go to the receptionist.

“I'm here with my friend, but I had to go out for a while. Can you tell me if she's finished her appointment yet?” Then I give her Nat's name.

Thanks to some kind of privacy policy, the woman refuses to tell me anything regarding Natalie. So I go back and sit down. Surely, Nat would've checked the parking lot before trying to leave without me.

About fifteen minutes later, Natalie comes out. I hurry over to her, worried that she might be upset— especially if she's just gone through an abortion, which is my greatest fear.

“Are you okay?”

She just shrugs. “Lets go.”

When we're in the Jeep, I ask her again. “Is everything okay, Nat? That seemed like a pretty long checkup.”

“They have lots of questions and stuff,” she says without looking at me. “And plus they were busy.”

“So, did they do a pregnancy test?”

She nods. “It was positive. Big surprise.”

“And so?”

“So what?”

“So, is that it? You know you're pregnant for sure…and now what?”

“I have an appointment for next week.”

“An appointment?” I'm trying very hard to remain calm. I've already had my little breakdown. Nat doesn't need to see me falling apart.

“You know,” she says. “To get rid of it.”

“Get rid of it?” My voice sounds like a five-year-old.

“Yes, Kim. I've decided it's my only option. I will get rid of it. And no one will ever have to know. It's really the best way to go.”

No one will ever have to know? What about me? But I don't say anything. I just try to get us safely home. By the time I pull in front of Natalie's house, I am feeling numb. I don't just mean emotionally numb, although that would make sense, but my fingers are tingling, and I'm worried that something might actually be physically wrong with me.

“Thanks,” she says as she opens the door. “Sorry I
had to drag you through this with me.”

I force a very pathetic smile. “It's okay, Nat. I said I was here for you.”

“And next week?” She looks at me hopefully

Everything in me wants to scream and shout, NO! No way! Never! Forget it! But she looks so hopeful— more hopeful than she's seemed in months. So I simply nod and say, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Of course, by the time I get in my house I am asking myself, why on earth did I agree to go with Natalie next week? Am I freaking nuts?

Feeling the need to talk to someone, I try Matthew's cell phone number but just get the message service. I don't want to leave a message. So then I try his house, since I'm thinking he might just be hanging out and have his cell phone off. But his mom answers and says he's not home.

“Oh.” I'm trying to decide whether to leave a message or not.

“He's out playing golf with his grandfather,” she says in a very uptight voice.

“We were going to do something today,” I say, “but I had to go out. Just tell him I called, okay?”

“If I see him, which isn't likely. But I'll leave a note.”

I thank her and hang up. Then, still feeling kind of stunned by the events of this afternoon, I just walk around the house in a bit of a stupor. I try to pray again, but the words are choppy and stilted, and I don't even know what to say Then I try to play my violin, but even
that feels all wrong. Finally I sit in front of my computer and attempt to answer some letters.

Okay, here's what I really think.

Okay, I won't write that. In fact, I won't write anything today. I just can't.

Thursday, June 6

I feel like I'm losing it. Like I can feel life or time or something important just slipping through my fingers, like I can't really hang on. It's hard to describe, and I can't even wrap my head around it, except that it feels totally out of character—its not like me to be like this.

I think I first started feeling seriously whacked on that day I took Nat to Haven and assumed she was getting an abortion. But I guess I sort of brushed it aside when I realized she hadn't actually done it (yet), telling myself I would deal with it later. Then I fell apart when I heard from Matthew the next day on Tuesday

“Sorry, I didn't call yesterday,” he told me. “I went with my grandpa to play golf, and it kind of turned into an all-day thing.”

“That's okay.” Of course, I don't mention that he could've called me later that evening.

“We had a really great time, and we were just finishing up the sixteenth hole when Grandpa got this idea about taking me to Europe as a graduation present. He was talking about all the galleries and museums and how it would be good for my art.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, that's what I was thinking. So anyway, we finished up golf and went to his house and got online, and he started looking for good travel deals. And you're not going to believe this, Km; he actually booked a trip.”

“That's cool.”

“We leave on Thursday. Can you believe it?”

“Seriously? You're leaving this Thursday?”

“Yeah. Grandpa got a great deal because we were able to just pick up and go.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“We're not really sure. I mean, the round-trip ticket isn't booked until early August, but Grandpa said we could change our plans if we wanted.”

“That's like two months,” I said, surprised that I could actually do the math since I've been feeling so brain-dead.

“Yeah. But Grandpa thinks it'll take that long to really see what we need to see. It'll be hard being away from you that long, Kim, but this is such a great opportunity for me—and for my art, you know? I couldn't say no.”

“Of course not, Matthew. This is incredible. I'm so happy for you.” But even as I said this, I felt tears building up and I could hear the gruffness in my throat.
“I, uh, I have to go right now. I promised Nat that I'd help her with something.” Okay, that was a lie, but I had to get off the phone.

“I've got a bunch of stuff to do too, Lucky for me, I already have a passport. Grandpa's picking me up in few minutes to take care of some of the other details.” So we said good-bye and hung up, and I began to cry again.

It seems like I've been crying for days now—almost as much as I did right after Mom died. And while I know I'm crying for missing her, I'm also crying for something else too. I'm just not sure what exactly. It's probably a bunch of things—like knowing I'll miss Matthew this summer, plus this whole nasty thing with Natalie.

Get a grip, Kim. Just chill. But it's like I can't. I just pace around the house or else sleep. I've been sleeping a lot during the day. Then I end up awake at night, and I walk around the dark, quiet house and just cry. And when I try to pray, the words get stuck. I feel like everything in me is all stopped up.

Matthew came by last night to say good-bye. He didn't have time for much more than that. And I suppose that was a good thing since I was pretty much falling apart.

“I'm sorry,” he told me as we hugged. “Don't take it so hard, Kim. I'll be back before you know it. And I'll write every day.”

“I'm sorry.” I tried to hold back the tears. “I think I'm just extra emotional right now. There's a lot of stuff going on in my life. I'm really glad for you—glad for this
opportunity. Its so cool, Matthew. I hope you have a great time.”

He smiled down at me. “Thanks, Kim. Maybe we can do this trip together someday. I'll know my way around, and I can show you all the best places.”

I nodded, but somehow I knew this was never going to happen. Still, I pretended as if I believed it would, as if I believed that life was really going to get better for me.

Today, as Matthew was flying to Frankfurt, I was sleeping. I think I slept most of the day. Now it's nighttime, and Fm guessing he's in Germany by now. So far away. I feel so far away. So lost.

Friday, June 7

I get up this morning and tell myself that Fm going to snap out of this—whatever cloud of gloom and doom that's hanging over my head. I tell myself that Fm going to go outside and look at the flowers and trees, that Fm going to smell the air and listen to the birds-^just like Mom told me to do in that letter. But it is nearly noon by the time I get up, and I don't feel like doing anything. I don't even shower or get dressed. And I don't feel like eating.

Instead I plop myself down on the couch, turn on the TV, and make myself into a vegetable as I watch one soap opera after another. I remind myself of Aunt Shannon. Although I don't think Fm actually listening or focusing much, but finally there is this one scene where
a young woman is talking about losing a baby and how she's been depressed. I think about Natalie, and I just want to scream.

How can she seriously want to do this? What has happened to her? I turn off the TV, toss down the remote, and start pacing again. Okay, I know it's not my decision and not really my business, but it just gets me that she can change like this. Like one day its a horrible sin to kill an unborn baby, and the next day it's okay.