Falling Up (13 page)

Before I really know what I'm doing, I have walked down to her house in my pajamas (which are actually boxer shorts and a tank top), and I am knocking on her door—ready for a confrontation.

Fortunately Krissy and Micah are at day camp so Natalie is alone. And before I have time to really think this thing out or plan my words, I am staging an all-out assault on Natalie. Throwing the same kind of pro-life words at her that she once threw at me.

“Its not the baby's fault.” I continue my sermon, not letting her get a word in edgewise as she sits on the edge of the couch, her hands in tight fists, as if she'd like to punch me. “He or she has no choice in this matter. And yet you're willing to just snuff that life out so you'll look good and can preserve your pride, your good little Christian girl image. But how are you going to feel,” I say, “when the day comes and you have to stand before God and account for killing that innocent baby? How are you going to feel when the whole world knows what you've done, Natalie? Sure, you might be able to sweep
this under the carpet now, but one day it s going to be shouted from the rooftops, and how will you feel then?”

Okay, now I know I've gone too far. I've reduced my friend to tears, and I know that I've said way too much, and none of it in love. Its like I'm just venting to make myself feel better. But the problem is, I now feel horrible. I feel like a failure and the worst friend on the planet. I can't imagine what Jamie would say to someone as heartless and selfish as I have just been. God, what is wrong with me?

My legs are shaking as I stand there watching Natalie crying. I know I should go over and hug her and tell her I'm sorry and that I'm so stupid and I just happen to be having a personal meltdown myself, but instead I turn away and walk out. I just leave her like that—a pile of pain I helped to create. I make myself sick. In fact, I feel physically sick as I walk toward my house. I'm getting that same weird tingling and numbing sensation I got on Monday, after we came home from the women's clinic.

By the time I get into the house, my hands and feet are completely numb. Even my nose and lips are numb. And now my ears are ringing really loudly, and my heart is racing and I'm sure that I'm about to die. Probably God's judgment on me for being such a jerk. I deserve it. But I sit down and wait, hoping that this crud will pass. But it doesn't. I only feel worse.

I stand up and walk around now, still numb and tingly, and my heart is racing and pounding like I've just
finished a marathon. I am getting seriously freaked. Something is really wrong with me, and I don't know what to do.

I consider going online to see if there's some explanation for these weird symptoms, and I vaguely remember hearing about allergic reactions that cause numbness and eventually block your airways. And maybe I'm being obsessive or even a hypochondriac, but I am really, really worried. Finally, I don't know what to do. I consider calling Natalie, but after my tongue-lashing, how can I? Matthew is gone. And so, in final desperation, I call my dad.

I quickly describe my frightening symptoms, and he tells me to call 9-1-1.

“No way, Dad,” I tell him, trying to calm myself, trying to just breathe. “It's not that bad. I don't want an ambulance. It's just very weird, and I don't know what to do. But I can't call—”

“Okay, I'm going to hang up and call you right back on my cell phone. Then I'm driving home, and I want you to stay on the line until I get there, understand? If you don't, I will call 9-1-1.”

I agree, and feeling even more freaked at his reaction, I follow his directions, keeping the phone with me as I get a glass of water and take a few sips. Then I go lie down on the couch and wait. My dad's voice is so soothing and calming I actually feel better by the time he gets home. Maybe this whole thing was just my imagination.

“I'm sorry,” I tell him, sitting up. “It's probably nothing.”

“Get in the car,” he commands as he helps me to my feet. “My secretary called ahead to Dr. Grier, and they'll be expecting you.”

So it is that I find myself being examined by our family doctor, and there in his office, trusting his confidentiality, I break down and tell him everything— everything from how much I miss my mom and my boyfriend, to how my best friend is pregnant and how I just laid into her about her choice to get an abortion.

As I'm going on and on about this, he is checking all my vital signs and listening and nodding and commenting when it's appropriate. Finally, it seems the exam is over.

“Am I gonna make it, Doc?” I ask, hoping to sound much lighter than I feel.

“You're under a lot of stress, Km.”

I nod, blinking back more tears.

“That's a huge load for anyone to carry…”

“I know.”

“So, what can you do to change anything?” he asks as he writes some things down on a chart. I'm thinking he's prescribing some form of psychiatric care for me. Maybe they'll lock me up.

“I don't know…” I try to think of an answer. “Usually, I try to pray about stuff like this, but lately it hasn't worked. It's like I've been so stressed that I can't even pray. It's like I'm stuck.”

“Maybe God is trying to tell you something.”

I study him for a moment. To be honest, I didn't even know that Dr. Grier believed in God. “What?” I finally ask.

“I'm not sure. But maybe He's trying to get your attention. Maybe He wants you to see that you're taking on too much. For instance, with your friend who's pregnant, doesn't she have anyone else she can lean on?”

I sadly shake my head. “No. She won't even tell her mom.”

“Too bad.” He presses his lips together, as if thinking, then tells me that he's going to talk to my dad while I get dressed.

I consider asking him about patient-doctor privilege since I don't want Dad to know about Nat's pregnancy. But why bother? Why must I keep Natalie's secret from my own dad? It's not like he'll tell anyone.

By the time I leave the examining room, the doctor has a prescription waiting for me, some kind of antianxiety medication I'm not sure I even want to take. And according to the nurse, he and Dad are still “in conference.”

Finally, they come out and Dr. Grier pats me on the back. “You have an extraordinary daughter, Allen.”

Dad nods. “I know that.”

Then we leave, but we're barely in the car when I start grilling Dad for details.

“Dr. Grier and I both agree you are under too much stress, Km.”

I nod. “Yeah, I guess that's true.”

“And so I've made a decision.”

I turn and look at my dad. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I'm sending you on a vacation.”

“Huh?”

So he explains how he'd called his mother last weekend, worried that I might possibly be pregnant. “But she was off playing bingo,” he continues. “So she called me back on Monday, and I explained that things were under control now. But she really wanted me to send you out for a visit. At the time it seemed unnecessary, and I told her as much. But now, after this little breakdown—”

“Breakdown?”

“Well, that's not exactly right. Dr. Grier said it was most likely a panic or anxiety attack. Too much stress probably ignited the whole thing, and as a result you started having physical symptoms. It's your body's way of telling you that you're putting yourself through too much. Anyway, I think it would be good for you to stay with your grandma—”

“And the alligators?”

Dad sort of chuckles. “Oh, I'm sure you'll keep a safe distance from the gators, Kim. But being at her place, where life is quiet and slow and easy, I think it might be good for you. And it's just what the doctor ordered.”

“Grandma and the alligators?” I say again, dumbfounded. “You gotta be kidding.”

“Just think about it.”

So that's what I've been doing all night long—just thinking about it. And this is only making me feel worse. I think I'm having a serious meltdown here. It's like I'm unable to reason, I can't think straight, and I can't get my feelings under control. Even my prayers are pathetic, just hopeless cries for help, with no faith involved. I'm a mess.

Finally, it's nearly midnight, and I decide that maybe Dr. Grier is right, so I will take one of those little pills. I don't like the idea of using chemicals to “feel better,” but I don't like the idea of losing my mind either. And right now it feels as if it could be one or the other. God, help me. That's about the only prayer I can pray at the moment. I hope He's listening.

Monday, June 10

Despite my mental stability, or lack of it, I did go to church yesterday. Although I didn't go to youth group on Saturday. I didn't want to see Ben and end up lashing out at him for getting Nat pregnant and disrupting our lives. And I knew I couldn't trust myself, or my out-of-control emotions, not to do that. But going to church did make me feel slightly better, at least during the worship time.

Then I happened to notice Ben O'Conner sitting up front, and I got to thinking about this whole unborn baby dilemma again. Was it fair for Natalie to make this life-or-death decision without Ben even knowing he could be a father? I mean, don't dads have any rights?

Then Pastor Tony got up to speak, and I realized that he and Steph would be relatives of this unborn baby as well—and yet they would never know—they would
never have a chance to express an opinion. It just seems so wrong that one person is allowed to snuff out a life like that—without consulting anyone. It just gets me.

I mean, I realize that Nat's got a lot on the line here. I know that going through a full-term pregnancy will be extremely hard on her. But in the long run, it might be just as hard on her to abort her baby. Especially as I consider how Natalie has struggled with huge guilt over losing her virginity. That threw her into a total tailspin. What will happen to her if she aborts her baby and then regrets it and feels guilty?

So even though I didn't focus too much on Pastor Tony's sermon, I did come home with a plan. And that was to talk to Natalie. First of all, I would apologize for acting like such a jerk on Friday. Then I would ask her to consider these things.

I called first to make sure she was home. And I wasn't surprised when she hung up on me. As I walked to her house, I could tell by the car in the driveway that her mom was there, and that was probably a good thing because Natalie would be forced to act civilized and she'd have to listen to me.

“Nat's in her room,” Mrs. McCabe tells me after she opens the door. She's still dressed in “church” clothes and appears to have her hands full with Krissy and Micah, who are both whining about not getting to go to McDonald's for lunch.

I don't bother knocking on the door since I know Natalie will only tell me to go away.

“Look,” I say as I slip into her room. “I come in peace, okay? I just want to tell you I'm really, really sorry for the way I acted on Friday I don't blame you if you don't forgive me, but I want you to know that I totally blew it, and I'm really sorry.”

She is sitting like a stone on her bed, just staring at me with the angriest expression I've ever seen across her face.

I pull out a chair and sit down. “If it makes you feel any better, I went home and had this, well, sort of like a breakdown or meltdown or anxiety attack. My dad had to come home and take me to the doctor.”

Now her anger seems to lift a bit, and she looks slightly curious.

“He said it's because of stress, and he prescribed some pills, and he and my dad cooked up this plan to get me away—for a mental-health break.”

“No way.”

“It's true. Dad is ready to ship me off to my grandma's.”

She frowns now. “Are you serious?”

I nod. I don't tell her that I actually agreed to this lame plan. I'll save that for later.

“Your crazy grandma in Florida?”

I nod again. “She's been feeding the alligators lately.”

“Isn't that illegal?”

“Yeah.” I take in a deep breath. “But I was in church today, and well, I saw Ben there, and I got to thinking, Nat. Shouldn't he have a say in this? I mean, he's the
father…doesn't he have any rights?”

“Not legally.”

Okay, I know she's right about this. I did some quick research online, and as it is, the father of an unborn child has no say in the termination of a pregnancy. Even if the couple is married! I think that's pretty weird. “I know legally he can't oppose an abortion, but don't you think it's interesting that he would have to pay child support if you had the child? I mean, doesn't that seem unfair?”

“Is it fair that I would have to give up nine months of my life, my reputation, my education, my sanity, probably my home…and he just gets to go about as if nothing has happened?”

I just shake my head. “I guess fair isn't the right word. And I do get your point. It doesn't seem fair.” I consider my next point. “Okay, I thought about something else at church, Nat. This has more to do with you personally, okay, I mean your well-being.”

“What?” Her voice has that flatness to it now, like she really doesn't want to hear this. And maybe she doesn't, but I need to say it.

“Well, I remember how you fell apart about losing your virginity. It's like you were on a one-way guilt trip straight to hell. And I'm thinking, okay, if you have that much guilt over a virginity pledge, how are you going to feel about taking a human life? I mean, later on when you have time to really think about it. Isn't it going to hurt?”

“You know, Kim, I don't really need this right now.

You might think you're helping me, but you aren't.”

“I know it's not easy to think about this—”

“I think about it all the time, Kim. It's all I think about. And all I can think is I either end this pregnancy or I end my life. What would you recommend?”

This stumps me. “Counseling?”

She makes a growling sound. “Yeah, you and my stupid mom. But I don't want counseling. I just want to end this. And if I had a pill that I could take, one that would stop this pregnancy, I wouldn't even think about it; I would take it right now.”

Okay, I'm at a loss for words. I don't know why ever I thought that Nat would be reasonable about this. I suppose I assumed that if I remained calm and controlled, she would too. Looks like once again, I was wrong.