Ayelet Schrek 12/19/07
She keeps pressuring me into an abortion. Mother never says it outright, but she keeps hinting how hard it will be for me, a single mother working a 12-hour shift for three dollars an hour plus tips. She also keeps saying how she might not be able to support me when I’m unable to work, and how much easier it would be without the baby, and how my boyfriend was such a ass for leaving me when I really needed him. I always point out that he was unemployed, and would have just been an extra expense, but in my heart, I agree with my mother. He could have found a job at any minimum wage place, collage degree or not, but that wasn’t good enough for him. I wasn’t good enough for him.
But I’m keeping her. I even found a hospital that takes care of pregnant singles for free. The main problem is all the time I have to take off from work to go to the doctor’s, and all the days I don’t feel good enough to go to work. I'm not officially “on leave” yet so they don’t have to pay me. I doubt my mom will kick me out if I don’t bring enough in, but I'm not quite sure how we’ll make it.
I’ve decided in my time off I’ll take up painting again. We still have those big cans of paint in the pantry, and I never finished that room. Mother won’t want me to; it would remind her of Veronica, but I will anyway. Painting’s always brought me peace, and I'm sure my baby would like something to look at before she goes to sleep at night. But I think I’ll start over. If I continued to paint Veronica’s meadow…well, I just couldn’t. That space was just for my sister. I bet she’s there right now, safe, where there aren’t any guns or stray bullets or incompetent doctors. In fact, I think I will paint a meadow, a different meadow, where my little girl can be safe, too. But enough daydreaming. I’ll be late for work.
God, I hate my mother! She came out and just said it: if I don’t get an abortion, she’ll kick me out. I know she can’t afford it, but to go that far, like it’s her life that’ll be ruined. I just can’t believe she’d throw me out when I really need her. Like my boyfriend. That’s it! That’s how I’ll get her. She’s always going on about what a terrible guy he was abandoning me, but she’d be doing the same. And really, I doubt she’d actually throw me out; she just really doesn’t want me to have this baby. And I know she just wants the best for me, but it’s my decision, and I want her. It gets pretty lonely living just with my mother, and it’ll be nice to have someone new to talk to, even if she can’t talk back. Especially if she can’t talk back.
Of course, mother was against the whole painting idea (you have enough to do, you need sleep; if you must do something, do something productive), but it was really about Veronica. Mother still can’t except that she’s gone. I can. She wanted to be gone for a long time before she went. I think she was almost relieved when the doctors screwed up, relieved that she didn’t have to make that choice and hurt mother even more. I think that was the main thing stopping her. She didn’t want to hurt us.
Today they gave me a new job at work. It’s the same pay; they’re not allowed to demote me just because I'm pregnant, but now I'm washing dishes all day. They don’t want people to see me and associate young pregnancy with their restaurant. It’s boring, sweaty work. They said the wanted me to take it easy because of the baby. Like they could care less.
Today I approached mother about the baby. I told her I had given it a lot of thought, but that I really wanted to keep her. She listened intently, her face unreadable, but a small frown tugging at the corners at her lips, invisible unless looked at closely. As I spoke I watched her intently, trying to guess her reaction. It was far from what I expected. She sighed, and told me that she knew. She had known all along that I was going to birth this baby, and that she respected my decision. She didn’t even start lecturing me on other options, adoption and whatnot. She just gave me a hug and smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks. I’m sure by tomorrow she’ll be presenting me with printed-out sheets of paper listing my options, but for tonight she won’t bother me.
I’ve decided to paint Veronica’s room when my mom’s at work. I feel bad deceiving her, but I have to paint that meadow for my Meadow. That’s what I’ve decided to name her. Meadow. Or maybe Haven. Something in Veronica’s memory. I think she’d like that, to have someone named after her. Her spirit, healed, in my daughter’s body. A chance for her to live on.
At work today a woman was found smoking pot in the back, behind the restaurant. I don’t know her name; they kept it all hushed up, but she was fired immediately. We have a hypothesis that the pot was just a story, that she had angered them in some way, and that they had just made up the pot as an excuse to fire her. I think it’s true, because no one saw her and there’s absolutely no proof to back it up. I keep thinking about her, and how hard her life must have been working at Denny’s, and how much harder it must be now. And I keep thinking about my life, and there are some things I want to change. I wonder if I could get by painting and selling my art. I probably can’t, but I’ll make sure my little girl can. I’ll make sure she can do what she wants for a living. That’s my promise. My child will be able to live, and to choose. I don’t care what it takes, she will be free.
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