I just can’t…terminate…this baby.”
The very thought of it made me sick to my stomach. A few days after I’d learned about my pregnancy, after I started getting over the shock of it all, I’d visited one of the free clinics. I went down to the Planned Parenthood on Bleeker Street and sat in the brightly painted office, looking at all the sad, remote faces of the women, the medical pamphlets and sterile watercolor paintings on the wall, and finally started questioning my future.
If I could get through this, I could graduate a free woman. I could even go on to be Mr. Ishikawa’s courtesan, if he still wanted me. But the moment my name was called, I remembered what Mr. Ishikawa had said about his mother forcing his father to take responsibility. A sudden horror broke over me and I stood up with my purse and ran from the clinic. No, I decided, this was my responsibility, my mistake, my burden to bear.
At first, it seemed impossible, a bad joke. I was always so careful about taking my birth control medication in the morning. I never missed a single day. But then, when I asked my doctor about it, he said when you changed birth control medications, you were supposed to abstain from sex for a month, to give your body a chance to adjust to it. It had been in the literature he’d given me, but, of course, I hadn’t pored over that. And even if I had, I probably wouldn’t have remembered anyway, not once I was alone with Mr. Ishikawa.
Mr. Ishikawa.
My heart hurt each time I thought about him. I was half of the mind to get rid of the phone, wipe the last trace of him from my life. I knew it was the only way I would stop getting his incessant messages demanding I answer him, to tell him where I’d run off to. Maybe then I could begin the process of forgetting.
As if reading my thoughts, my aunt said, “Are you certain you don’t want to contact the father, Felix?”
“ Oh god, no.” I set my cup down with a clink on my saucer. “I couldn’t face him. Besides, it would do no good. He wouldn’t want a baby.” I flashed back to that time in Central Park, when we’d watched the children play baseball on the diamond, and the expression on Mr. Ishikawa’s face, like he smelled something bad. I knew how much he hated children. I knew how sad and angry the very sight of them made him. A fatherless child who had never really recovered from the rejection he’d experienced as a boy. I couldn’t possibly bring this to him. I couldn’t stand to see his eyes when he rejected both me and the child. I’d always thought of myself as strong, but there’s only so much a person can handle.
Besides, I’d made all my decisions. I’d left New York, absconding like some thief in the night. I’d come here to see this thing through. My aunt had generously offered to let me work in the little flower shop she ran in town until I found something that better suited me. Like my dad before me, I would raise my child alone, single-handedly. I would give him or her everything I possibly could. I would be a good mom. And, after all, I’d had a happy childhood. I saw no reason why this child couldn’t as well.
I was about to ask Aunt Sarah about the job again when I spotted a limousine driving up the snaky gravel road to my aunt’s house. I recognized it at once. “Oh god,” I said, standing up. “Tell him I’m not here.” I hurried inside, through the sliding glass doors, and raced up the stairs to my bedroom. I closed and locked the door, then backed up until I reached my bed and fell upon it. My heart was flitting in my throat and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
A few moments later, my bewildered aunt came up the stairs and knocked gently upon the door. “Sarah, there’s a Japanese gentleman here to see you.”
“ I told you…I’m not here.”
“ He seems very insistent.”
“ I can’t, Aunt Sarah! I can’t see him!” I’d started to cry.
She was silent a long moment. “Is it…him?”
“ Tell him to go
The very thought of it made me sick to my stomach. A few days after I’d learned about my pregnancy, after I started getting over the shock of it all, I’d visited one of the free clinics. I went down to the Planned Parenthood on Bleeker Street and sat in the brightly painted office, looking at all the sad, remote faces of the women, the medical pamphlets and sterile watercolor paintings on the wall, and finally started questioning my future.
If I could get through this, I could graduate a free woman. I could even go on to be Mr. Ishikawa’s courtesan, if he still wanted me. But the moment my name was called, I remembered what Mr. Ishikawa had said about his mother forcing his father to take responsibility. A sudden horror broke over me and I stood up with my purse and ran from the clinic. No, I decided, this was my responsibility, my mistake, my burden to bear.
At first, it seemed impossible, a bad joke. I was always so careful about taking my birth control medication in the morning. I never missed a single day. But then, when I asked my doctor about it, he said when you changed birth control medications, you were supposed to abstain from sex for a month, to give your body a chance to adjust to it. It had been in the literature he’d given me, but, of course, I hadn’t pored over that. And even if I had, I probably wouldn’t have remembered anyway, not once I was alone with Mr. Ishikawa.
Mr. Ishikawa.
My heart hurt each time I thought about him. I was half of the mind to get rid of the phone, wipe the last trace of him from my life. I knew it was the only way I would stop getting his incessant messages demanding I answer him, to tell him where I’d run off to. Maybe then I could begin the process of forgetting.
As if reading my thoughts, my aunt said, “Are you certain you don’t want to contact the father, Felix?”
“ Oh god, no.” I set my cup down with a clink on my saucer. “I couldn’t face him. Besides, it would do no good. He wouldn’t want a baby.” I flashed back to that time in Central Park, when we’d watched the children play baseball on the diamond, and the expression on Mr. Ishikawa’s face, like he smelled something bad. I knew how much he hated children. I knew how sad and angry the very sight of them made him. A fatherless child who had never really recovered from the rejection he’d experienced as a boy. I couldn’t possibly bring this to him. I couldn’t stand to see his eyes when he rejected both me and the child. I’d always thought of myself as strong, but there’s only so much a person can handle.
Besides, I’d made all my decisions. I’d left New York, absconding like some thief in the night. I’d come here to see this thing through. My aunt had generously offered to let me work in the little flower shop she ran in town until I found something that better suited me. Like my dad before me, I would raise my child alone, single-handedly. I would give him or her everything I possibly could. I would be a good mom. And, after all, I’d had a happy childhood. I saw no reason why this child couldn’t as well.
I was about to ask Aunt Sarah about the job again when I spotted a limousine driving up the snaky gravel road to my aunt’s house. I recognized it at once. “Oh god,” I said, standing up. “Tell him I’m not here.” I hurried inside, through the sliding glass doors, and raced up the stairs to my bedroom. I closed and locked the door, then backed up until I reached my bed and fell upon it. My heart was flitting in my throat and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
A few moments later, my bewildered aunt came up the stairs and knocked gently upon the door. “Sarah, there’s a Japanese gentleman here to see you.”
“ I told you…I’m not here.”
“ He seems very insistent.”
“ I can’t, Aunt Sarah! I can’t see him!” I’d started to cry.
She was silent a long moment. “Is it…him?”
“ Tell him to go
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