mantra || h.s

:: 37 ::

☯

Don’t tell Harry. Don’t tell Harry. Don’t tell Harry. “Ms. Robinson?” Don’t tell Harry. My eyes hurt, the blinding white light making it impossible to see. “Ms. Robinson, can you hear me?” An even brighter light moved back and forth from one of my eyes to the next and I groaned, finally opening them all the way. The white stark walls and the balding man in a white lab coat told me everything I needed to know about where I was. Why I was here, I had no idea. “Ms. Robinson, my name is Doctor Rhiley, can you tell me how you feel right now?” I glanced around and saw Cara sitting in the armchair next to my hospital bed, a worried smile on her face. 

“Like shit…” He chuckled a deep chuckle.

“Mind clarifying?”

“My head…my head hurts. Um…my arm—”

“Yeah, ya broke that, bub.” Cara nodded towards my right forearm, which was wrapped up in a rainbow cast. “Figured you wouldn’t want pink.” 

“You’re being fed from a tube, due to the fact that you were slightly malnourished, add in the excessive amount of alcohol intake from the past three days…we’re really just trying to ween you back onto a healthy diet.” The medical term diet was so utterly different from my definition of it.

“Sounds great.” I looked between Cara and the Doctor and somehow, within seconds, the mood in the room changed drastically.

“Now, Ms. Robinson…I’d really like to talk to you in private, if that’s alright?”

“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of her.” My best friend’s fingers curled around my elbow, supportively.

“Very well then.” He sighed. “Ms. Robinson, this isn’t going to be easy to hear, and I just want you to be aware, you have options.” I’m dying, probably.

“Right…”

“When your blood tests came back, it showed that you’re pregnant.” The temperature dropped and I froze up. “We ran some more tests and found many signs of severe birth defects and the possible risk of a miscarriage.”

“Why?”

“The alcohol and tobacco in your system may very well have been the direct cause.” Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. No.

“My—you…you said I have options?”

“That’s correct. Going through with the pregnancy could be damaging, to both yourself and your child. Abortion is a safe and reasonable route, and although we don’t normally suggest it, in your case, it would certainly be the better option. I felt a lump in my throat, a heavy, uncomfortable lump, but I couldn’t cry. 

“If…I didn’t—the abortion, if I didn’t go through with it…?”

“You and your child could be at risk. The chances for survival on the fetus’s end are very, very slim.”

“And my chances?”

“Much less likely, but still possible.” I looked at Cara and her tan face was entirely colorless. “We don’t want to rush you with this decision. Take some time, talk to the baby’s father. Your family, friends…don’t rush this.” I shook my head and Cara squeezed.

“I can’t—Cara, he can’t know…he’ll hate me. He can’t know.” She nodded and tucked my hair back behind my ear. 

“I know, Goose. I know. It’s alright.”

“I should do it then…I have to, Car.” She sighed but nodded again.

“I can’t bear the thought of losin’ you. Can’t even—nope.” I gulped down, attempting to rid myself of the damned lump.