mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- deconstruct Her knees buckled, then and there, in front of the bathroom sink. I struggled to hold her up, and over her shoulder, I saw the two parallel lines that she'd seen just before she had fallen, the pink, faint lines on the tiny plastic stick. My arms were around her, lifting her up and pulling her toward the bedroom. I was holding her together. She was going to break. She curled into a ball on my bed, saying, "I feel sick. I feel so sick," over and over again. I pressed her face to my chest, trying to calm her down. I tried to soothe her. My heart was slamming against my ribs so hard I was sure she'd feel it. I cried with her. I ached for her. Somewhere, deep, deep inside, I was smiling. There was something beautiful and awesome growing inside of her! She'd get over the shock, I thought, and she'd see what a miracle this was, what a joyous, huge thing she'd done. I knew she would. Her sobs subsided to hiccups and tiny moans, and she sat up. I asked what she was planning to do. "What can I do, Angela? I have to have an abortion. I can't do this. I'm not ready for this." I looked at her face, her swollen, red eyes, strands of blond hair glued to her cheeks. I looked at the terrified girl in front of me, and I was sorry. The secret smile vanished, and I held her hand. I promised to help her, no matter what. No matter what. 8:29 p.m. - 2003-02-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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