When Christian fails to answer me, I point to my door. “Get out!”
“Jennifer Jade Murphy!” roars through my ears, scaring the living hell out of me.
I’m surprised, and perhaps a little scared, when my mom stands from her post at my dining table to saunter my way. “I asked him to come.”
When my eyes drift to Christian, seeking confirmation on her statement, his dart to the floor. It’s in this instant I finally understand why he arrived at my apartment mere minutes before Nick. He isn’t my friend; he’s working with my mother to undermine my relationship.
“Why are you here?” I’m so angry, steam is almost billowing from my ears.
My mom adjusts the collar on the dress I’m wearing. “How was I to know you weren’t dead or passed out on the floor? You haven’t answered anyone’s calls.”Happy I look presentable, she shifts her focus to Christian.“Thank you, Christian.” She gives him his marching orders with three little words.
When Christian moves toward me, my mom places herself between us. Christian’s eyes narrow at her before they shift to me. I can see remorse in his eyes. He feels bad for what he’s done.
“Call me if you need me.” He waits for me to nod before he reluctantly leaves my apartment.
The door has barely closed when my mom moves to stand in front of me. “Your appointment is on Wednesday.” She saunters to her handbag hanging over one of my dining room chairs.“He’s very discreet and has assured me our family name will not be mentioned.” She digs a business card out of her purse before shoving it into my hand.
“I’m not getting an abortion,” I say when I read the card she gave me. It’s for an abortion doctor in New Jersey. When I try to hand the card back to her, she refuses to accept it.
“We’ve already discussed this, Jenni; you need to havethistaken care of.” When she states “this,” her eyes drop to my stomach for the quickest second.
They rocket back to my face when I say, “I'm keeping my baby.”
Even with how much I’m hurting, I could never destroy the baby I created with Nick. I loved him, and I’ll love our baby just as much.
“You’re willing to give up everything to havehisbaby?”
When I nod, the anger on my mom’s face doubles.
“Your studies, your apartment, your family.” Her words get louder with each one she speaks. “If you keep this baby, everything will be gone. Everthing!” she warns. . .
When I failed to turn up to my appointment on Wednesday, my mom followed through on her threat. My attempt to pay for some groceries with my credit card was declined, and when I arrived home from school on Thursday, I had a notice on my door that my rent was overdue. I nearly fell over backwards when I read how much it cost to rent a one-bedroom apartment in New York City. I spent all night Thursday adding up my expenses and searching the classifieds for any jobs for students.
It did me no good.
Even if I left school and got two full-time jobs, I couldn’t afford my apartment, let alone living expenses. I had no choice but to accept my mother’s terms.
I’m snapped from my thoughts when Nick runs his hand down my cheek. He removes my tears before drawing me into his chest. My heart races a million miles an hour when he promises that everything will be okay, and that he’ll take care of both me and our baby.
“It’s too late,” I murmur through a hiccup. “It’s been taken care of.”
Nick takes a step back, his jaw muscle quivering. “What?”
I take a moment to gauge his reaction to my confession. He’s always been hard for me to read. He’s very reserved and doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve, so I’m having a hard time comprehending whether he’s relieved or mad about my decision.
“My. . . umm. . . mom. . . has arranged everything,” I mumble nervously, incapable of saying the word “abortion” out loud.
Nick’s eyes open wide before they drop to my stomach. The cracks in my heart enlarge when I see the sheen in his eyes.
His eyes return to me when I disclose, “I have an appointment on Monday.”
I nearly crumble into a heap when devastation crosses his features. I thought the look he gave me when he witnessed me kissing Christian was bad. This one is ten times worse.
“No, Jenni,” he whispers roughly. “You can’t do this.” He takes a step closer to me, his eyes begging. “Don’t do this—please.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, you do.” He nods. “I’ll take care of you; I’ll take care of the baby.”
