Member-only story
My Mistake, Her Choice
And our rights
Two weeks before Christmas, 1983. I’m home from grad school, sound asleep, my parents both at work, and the phone rings:
“Hullo.”
“Terry, it’s….I’m pregnant, and I need some money for an abortion.”
“Oh. Sure. How much is it?”
“$250.”
“I’ll go to my bank this morning and wire it to you.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
“No, we’ll split the cost. Do you want me to come up and go with you?”
“No. I want to do it tomorrow. I can’t wait. Annette is going with me; besides, we’re done, right?”
“Yeah…about us. Listen…I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
IT WENT PRETTY MUCH LIKE THAT.
This is a memoir, creative nonfiction, and while I remember much of this conversation, I remember how it felt even more precisely, even after almost four decades.
It felt like shit.
Not just the out-of-the-blue call; not just the reality of the call and that I’d be deleting almost all the savings I had; and not just that I wouldn’t be there with her, to help her…