Baby

It was easy for him, always. All he had to do was knock her up, mess her life up, and then leave without a word. Like nothing ever happened. 

Not that she wanted a word. God, no- she doesn’t think she can even look at him without breaking down into tears- the mere thought of him makes her body tremble with fear.

It was all doctors from there. White sheets and hospitals, the smell of cleanliness, tubes being jabbed into her body.

You can file a police complaint.

She didn’t file a police complaint. It was too much, way too much- the thought of it made her head spin. She didn’t think she could face anyone ever again. She sure didn’t want to.

They were all dangerous- shadows looming over her constantly. Her father stopped talking to her, mother only spoke angry words: what now, what have you done to yourself, sometimes I wish you’d died instead, I really do. She holed herself up in her room, wanting to scream, wanting to fight back: I didn’t do a thing! It was all him! Sometimes, I wish I’d died instead, too.

It was easy for him, always. All he had to do was grab her by her wrist and drag her into a room. What happened after that wasn’t his fault either- it was only natural, he was only being a man.

The bombshell drops a few weeks later.

Her friend had come over, earlier in the day, to go through university options together. All she wants to do is escape: go somewhere far, far away- away from all of this, some place where no one knows her, no one knows what happened to her. 

She’s considering Ireland, maybe Scotland. It’s the only thought keeping her going, at this point. The thought of university- new people, new places- finally getting a chance to study what she wants to study. Film making. Years ago, when she was barely a teenager, the idea crept up in her head after watching Sound of Music. It was small but it was there. Making movies, telling stories, finding her happiness and helping others find theirs. Slowly, the idea began to grow, took over her every thought- and she knew, for sure, that film making was what she wanted to do. She made five short films in the next few years- they progressively got better, and her future only got brighter and brighter with every film. Every doubt she had washed away every time she watched the final product of her hard work. She could see herself a few years later, her movie headlining a festival. Her heart would swell with pride at the thought of it- it was like seeing her baby.

Baby.

The bombshell drops that night, a few hours after her friend leaves.

She’s not going to university. She’s not going anywhere.

She’s pregnant. With his baby.

The ground is snatched away from below her. She knows what she’s supposed to feel- her mother wastes no time in letting her know- she’s supposed to be ecstatic, emotional, cry happy tears. Her mother hopes she’s attached to the baby already. See, her mother says, something good comes out of everything. She, on the other hand, isn’t so sure of that.

I want an abortion. The words are whispered into the mirror, and her face crumples as soon as she says them. There’s no way her mother will agree, and she knows it. This baby’s life has already become more precious to her mother than her own. Yet, she cannot help but try. She wants to go to university, wants to study film making, wants to be a director- but she has to be, is supposed to be a mother. She tries to convince herself it’s not so bad: just a few years of staying at home; taking care of a little baby with tiny hands and feet, buying clothes and blankets and changing diapers; sending it off to school; never leaving. No new friends and nights spent shooting movies, no headlining movies at festivals, no advice and constructive criticism from professors who turn into mentors. 

It’s not so bad: it’s just her entire future, disappearing before her eyes.

It was easy for him, always. All he had to do was knock her up, and then leave. Be a man, not care.

It was easy for her too, I suppose. All it cost her was her happiness.