Chapter 7: When I Decide, The World Falls Apart

I hoist a black suitcase off the floor by the strap on the top and inch sideways down the stairs in order not to strain my back. Delilah copies my metohod of heavy luggage transportation with her pink Barbie suitcase. When we reach the lower floor, we drage our suitcases to the car and throw them in the trunk.

"Do you have your bag?" I ask Delilah.

"Yup," the little one puts her hands on her hips and gives me a big nod.

"All right! Let's go then!" I secure her in the car seat and start the car.

"Are you excited to go see Aunty Lean?" I ask, looking at my little girl's face framed with cutls.

"Yes!" she shouts, bouncing in her seat in excitement.

Lean moved downstate years ago. She became a nurse, just like I thought she would. She's currently living with her skinny, blond, Russian of a girlfriend; Tatiana. I tell Delilah they're special friends and promise to tell her the truth when she's a little older. They're both really good to her, and Delilah loves them.

The first time I ever went downstate was immediately after I found out I was pregnant. My mother was always lenient. Maybe lenient is too soft of a word. My mother frankly didn't care. She told us she wanted us to have our freedom, but I think she just didn't want to bother with rules and consequences.

Lean told me I couldn't keep it. I agreed and the only place that would let minors get abortions without parental consent was in the big city. We both knew it was a risky procedure, but we also knew it'd be smarter than keeping a baby.

I was surprisingly well composed as Lean and I entered the low class hospital. Hospitals never bothered me and they sure as hell didn't bother me then. The hospital looked as poor as it was. I remember the brown walls and dark blue seats with blood of barf stains. Where posters would be hung in well-financed hospitals, posters of feet with ailments are taped. I didn't paticularly main any of this, the place had a paticular charitable spirit about it.

Lean goes to the information desk where a large black woman wearing orange lipstick is filing her nails. She spots Lean over her bejeweled spectacles and puts down her nail file.

"What can I help you with today honey?"

"Umm... where can I find the abortion clinic?"

I stand a few feet behind Lean and look around me, taking in my surroundings. The babies, the children, the couples, the crazies, the cripples, the old folk. The brown walls, the blue chairs, the doctors, the nurses, and the cliche poster that says "An Apple A Day Keeps The Doctor Away,"

I turn my focus to the receptionist who is standing up out of her chair and pointing down the hall to our right. Lean nods her head and says thank you. She turns around and nods her head toward the hallway to indicate that we were headed in that direction.

The abortion clinic has to the the lonliest place in the hospital. It's a small room at the far end of the clinic, with a total of 12 chairs in three rows of four, all which face a table of "Cosmopolitan," "Time," and a few outdated and torn "Parent." There are three other women here. I imagine one is hiding from her husband due to the illegitimacy of the father. The other I imagine was dumped immediately by her boyfriend at the first sign of pregnancy. And the third one? Well, the third one is kind of like me... knocked up by a one night stand. And none of them have support. Which is why the abortion clinic is so lonely. I look over at Lean, squeeze her hand and mentally thank her for her support.

I suck in a lung full amount of air and let it sit before exhaling. Little nervous critters began tittering around my stomach. They multiply and dance their way into my arms, circulating around my wrists. I open and close my hands to push them away and they retreat to my legs which start shaking like mad. My breathing turns quick and shallow.

Lean was staring off into space until she felt her chair shake due to my small nervous convulsions.

"Are you ok?" she whispers.

"Yeah... I'm fine," I reply. I stand up and walk to the magazine table to get something to occupy me. I see that irony has dealt me a wicked hand as I notice the first magazine I pick up is a 2006 edition of "Parent." So I sit down and flip through it anyway and glance at ads for orange juice, animal crackers, and Aveeno body lotion. There are pictures of children and babies everywhere. Child, child, child, baby, child, baby, baby, baby. Little girls with curly blond pigtails, burnett little boys carelessly caked in mud, bald babies... lots of bald babies. Children wearing red shirts, overalls and big grins and happy little babies with happy little tummies and to accompany the pictures, there are articles of love, family, terrible twos and troublesome threes, first time moms and fifth time moms.

I've noticed that my magazine browsing has consumed almost a half an hour worth of time. I look at the doorway into the doctors office. It opens and the doctor lets a man and a woman out. I watch him check a few things off a chart, and know that I will be next to enter that room, and next the surgery room, because he is now holding my medical files in his hand, I can see "Roxanne Numoto," written in thick marker on the side. I know whats inside there; reports of vaccines and childhood ailments. The last time I was at the doctor was when I got food poisoning. And the next thing to go into that file is a shameful abortion.

I look down to my lap and stare at irony-incarnate witha slightly appaled look.

"Why I Decided to Keep Her," was the title of the article. A woman with short black hair held her baby close to her and kissed her forehead. And suddenly, without reading the article, I knew I was making a the wrong desicion.

"Numoto, Roxanne?" The doctor calls out from his doorway. I look up at him, my mouth still agape, my eyes wide like a deer in headlights. I look back down the the article on my lap and swallow my nerves and let it morph into confusion as I shut my mouth. Lean nudges me lightly in the ribs with her elbow. I look at her, my confusion matching her perplexed look. I look at the doctor who has his eyebrows rased at me, I look at the magazine on my lap and the baby smiling at me. Inquiring faces moved in closer, nauseau hit me hard. I needed to get out of here.

I ran fast for the side exit door, threw it open, lean over the railing of the stairs and dejected my insides a story below. I stood gripping the edge, spitting and taking in deep breaths , attempting to find my groundings. I then heard the door I just ran out of open/

"What the hell was that?" Lean demanded. I wiped my mouth of stray body fluids and turned around. I stared at Lean for a few moments and said; "I'm keeping the baby,"

Lean lets out an exasperated sigh and runs her hand through her hair.

"Roxy," she tries to reason.

"No. Don't. This is what I want. Don't tell me I can't, its my responsibility Lean! I can't just get rid of it!"

"What about your dreams? What about your life?"

"What dreams Lean? What life? I'll never be able to make anything out of my life, but maybe I can for this baby..."

"You're so afraid to make something of your life, you're so afraid you'll illusion yourself, so afraid you'll turn out to be like Dad. But if you do this, you will be Dad, because you'll never succeed!" She yelled.

The silence that receeded seemed to go on forever.

"I'm not Dad," I whisper.

Lean takes me in her arms. "You're just a child Roxanne, I can't let this happen to you,"

I look up at her, holding my chin high. "I'm keeping it Lean,"

Disappointment overcomes her face and she holds me tighter. We stood there for a while, each having our own private thoughts on my desicion, but sharing conjoined emotions.

Lean is now pouring coffee into my cup, while I'm sitting at her small kitchen table. I nervously flick the cap on the ketchup bottle up and down. I wonder if Lean still thinks I'm a failure I know that's what I think of myself. I wonder why she doesn't hate me for failing like our father. Lean places herself on the opposit side of me.

"How are things Roxy?" she asks, bracing herself for a ritualistically long story. However, this time, I don't have one.

"I'm still waiting for him to come home,"

"Maybe... maybe you should start thinkinga bout him not coming back,"

"Why wouldn't he come back? All of his stuff is there,"

Lean shrugs, "I wouldn't be surprised," she mutters.

"He's going to come back," I strongly state. And I believe it too.

Lean doesn't and she expresses her pessimism in the form of a sigh.

Two different laughts float into the room, one older, and one younger, and the conversation turns a new direction.

"Hows Tatiana?"

"Oh, she's great, she's something else,"

Lean gets up and stands in the dooray of the kitchen, looking out into the living room where Tatiana is playing Barbies with Delilah. The blonde woman looks up and smiles at my sister, a smile ladden with great fondness. I'm happy for them.

Lean lets out a content sigh to break the quiet between us.

"Roxy, I just though I should let you know, I don't think you're anything like Dad. There's no way he could've given a child as much love as you've given that one,"

A/N: so I figured out that I don't put out my chapters as much as I should for two reasons; one because I like to have a good amount of time between the time I put the last chapter up and the time I put the next chapter up. And another thing that I just found out today, typing things from my notebook pisses me off. My desk is to clusterfucked with computer stuff, and the damn notebook doesn't want to stay! Oh well, I hope you enjoy, and I would love some reviews, especially on this chapter!