As she and Gavin exited the Uber, Mayra noticed a handful of police officers scrambling to move wooden barricades into place before the Pro-Life activists swarmed onto the sidewalk across from the clinic. They wore signs around their necks that read slogans like Abortion Kills, and It’s A Child, Not A Choice, and One Life Taken, Many Hearts Broken.

“Life chain!” shouted one of the demonstrators, a heavy-set woman who had an undeniable motherly look about her and in response, the fellow activists linked hands and attempted to march across the street to the clinic and block the main entrance. The police officers used the barricades to quickly to corral the demonstrators and push them back onto the adjacent sidewalk.

When the crowd began to heckle and boo them, Myra felt Gavin tightening his grip on her hand. She tried to focus on the clinic door but it seemed so far away. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she said.

“I know this is frightening,” Gavin said, draping a protective arm across her shoulders. “And these people aren’t helping the matter any, but don’t let their narrow-minded views decide our fate. Remember our plan? We do it right. Things will be perfect next time.”

“Are we doing the right thing?” Mayra asked, studying the demonstrators. She noticed there were spirits of dead protestors scattered amongst the living and two ghost policemen, who were assisting in keeping the crowd behind the barricades. The activists’ jeers and implorations for Mayra to change her mind were growing louder and louder until it all blurred into a chaotic tangle of white noise.

“Hey, babe, no pressure,” Gavin stepped in front of her to obscure her view. “Whatever you decide to do is fine. I just want you to think it all the way through, that’s all. And ask yourself, is what you’re doing the best possible thing for everyone involved?”

“But the baby—”

“Let’s say you decide we’re keeping it,” Gavin had to raise his voice over the din of the crowd but he was still remarkably, uncharacteristically calm. “The truth is that nothing is guaranteed. You could have a miscarriage, the baby could be stillborn or die of SIDS, or be born mentally or physically handicapped. You never know with these things.”

“I’m just so confused. This is all happening way too fast.”

“Then let’s go inside and sit down. We don’t have to do anything but sit and talk. This way you won’t be distracted by these morons.”

“And we don’t have to do anything?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Okay,” Mayra nodded and allowed Gavin to lead her into the clinic.

Inside, the receptionist glanced at them but didn’t say anything as the couple sat in the corner of the waiting area farthest away from the front window, or rather Mayra sat in a seat and Gavin kneeled before her, taking both her hands in his.

“If you’d rather just go back home, I’m fine with that,” Gavin said. Mayra remained silent, lost in a maelstrom of thoughts, so he continued, “Forget all the confusion going on in the world at the moment and forget about what society or the people outside think is right or wrong. Let’s just focus on what’s important to you and me. Is this the right thing to do? At the end of the day, as much as I support you and want to be here for you, it’s your body so only you can decide that. Emotionally, I think I feel the same apprehension you do. Logically, though, I realize that raising a kid is tough enough under ideal conditions and in light of the way the world keeps changing day by day, I think we owe it to ourselves to do what’s best at this point in time.”

“Maybe you are right. Logically it doesn’t make sense for the two of us to have a baby, but there’s more to this than logic,” Mayra bit her lip hard, willing herself not to cry. “And you can’t feel that same as I do emotionally because there isn’t a defenseless life growing inside of you.”

“That’s not fair—”

“What’s not fair is suggesting I go through with this in hopes of putting it off until everything is fixed,” Mayra said, pulling her hands free from his grasp. “But what if it can’t be fixed? Are you still not going to want to have children with me?”

“Of course, I want to have children and I want to have them with you. The timing just needs to be better, is all I’m suggesting. I’m not going to put off having a family forever if things aren’t fixed. If you’re really ready and one hundred percent committed to starting our family now then we’ll make it work, I swear. And I’m not trying to convince you to go through with the procedure because I couldn’t live with myself if you resented me for it.”

Mayra stared past Gavin and mulled his point of view over in her head. What he said made sense, not in the way he said it but the emotion behind it. When she looked at him again, she could see the certainty was still there. She believed he truly believed it was best for them to wait the madness out and plan properly for the future, that there would be another chance somewhere down the road for the two of them to start a proper family.

“Okay,” Mayra said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” she reaffirmed in a stronger voice as she stood, straighten out her sundress and made her way to the reception desk with Gavin tagging along behind.

The receptionist introduced herself as Cynthia and she had a way about her that suggested she never became impatient or judgmental of the people who sought the clinic’s services. Her attention was mainly focused on Mayra to whom she appeared to give her undivided attention while she patiently helped her fill out the necessary forms. The only time her attention shifted to Gavin was when accounts needed to be settled.

When a nurse came to escort her into the clinic proper, Mayra, not being able to look the woman in the eye, asked, “I don’t know what the protocol is for this sort of thing, but can my boyfriend come with me? Be there while…you know?”

“I’m afraid not,” the nurse said kindly. “He’ll have to wait here but you’ll be in good hands, I promise.”

Mayra turned to Gavin, “You’ll wait? Promise me you’ll wait for me.”

“Where else would I be?” Gavin kissed her for what felt like the first time in weeks. A real kiss, a soul kiss is what they used to call it. It was the way they kissed when they first decided to hook up.

***

Mayra thought she would have been taken straight into an operating room but instead was seated in a smaller waiting area. The room was all white and had a clinical smell to it that set her nerves on edge to the point she found herself pacing.

When the nurse, whose name Mayra could not remember and was embarrassed to ask, returned, she explained the state required informed consent from a patient before undergoing any sort of medical treatment. This meant she had to ascertain if Mayra possessed the capacity to make decisions about her care; that her participation in these decisions was voluntary and she wasn’t being forced or pressured into doing something against her will; and that she must be provided adequate and appropriate information. The nurse then explained that although New York was not a state that required a twenty-four hours elapse between the counseling session and the procedure, it was advisable to take time to give the situation some proper thought.

And for the first time since this whole thing began, Mayra breathed a deep sigh of relief and felt the pressure fall away from her shoulders. She decided to wait, to sleep on it, approach it with a clearer head. Gavin, most likely would not be too happy with her decision but she would find a way to sort things out and hopefully then they could have a proper discussion and weigh out all their options instead of making a hasty decision.

Her confidence, however, turned to confusion when Mayra stepped back into the waiting area to find that Gavin was nowhere in sight. She went to the reception desk but before she could ask, Cynthia said, “Your boyfriend left the moment you stepped inside with the nurse.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Mayra stammered. “He said he’d wait.” She scanned the waiting area, stepped outside to see if he was standing on the street, checked the nearby bodega to see if he popped in to get something to eat or drink, then returned to the clinic and inspected the room again just in case her eyes had been playing tricks on her. Still no sign of Gavin.

“I’m really not supposed to do this,” Cynthia said, reaching for the desktop phone. “But is there someone I can call for you, to pick you up?”

Mayra waved the receptionist off, pulled her own phone out of her pocket, and dialed the only number she would ever dial in a situation like this.

To Be Continued…

©2017-2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys