The wheels of the gurney squeaked as an aide moved Lisa to recovery. Half asleep, she stirred, then moaned and curled into a fetal position. She pulled the sheets over her shoulder and stuck one foot out from under. When she saw the blue hospital sock, she remembered where she was. A feeling of nausea overcame her and she cupped her hand under her chin. A nurse noticed and held a small kidney-shaped bowl, just in time for Lisa to vomit.
“It’s the anesthesia,” a nurse said. “It’ll pass. Drink this.” She gave her some apple juice. Lisa tried drinking but the nausea came back. She closed her eyes. “Could I have some ice chips instead, please?” she asked.
Lisa did better with those. They soothed her thirst and she no longer felt sick.
The nurse asked, “Are you ready for a visitor?”
Lisa nodded, and her boyfriend Peter came in. He sat on the edge of her bed.
“You okay?” he asked. “You don’t look so good.”
Lisa nodded. “Yeah, just a little nauseous.”
Peter waived his hand. “What smells?”
“I puked. Sorry.”
“How do you feel?”
“Like I was out drinking all night.”
Peter waited until the nurse stepped far enough away that she couldn’t hear.
“No, I mean now that it’s over. Any regrets?”
“Peter, not now.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just having a hard time with this.”
The nurse came back to check on Lisa.
“When can she leave?” Peter asked.
“As soon as she can keep something down, use the bathroom. Won’t be too long.”
Peter had always been good to Lisa. She knew that someday he would ask her to marry him. Even now, after what she’d put him through. He’d brooded about her indiscretion for days but he forgave her. Still, he didn’t want her to have the procedure. She remembered the argument.
“It’s not right. It’s a sin. We’re Catholic for Christ’s sake. I don’t care if it ain’t mine. We’ll get married, and I’ll adopt it.”
Lisa knew she wasn’t ready to be a mother and doubted Peter would make a good husband.
“Who’s the father?” he’d demanded.
“Does it matter? I made a mistake, I’m sorry. Can we leave it at that?”
“I know the guy. Is that it?”
“No, you don’t. And it’s better if it stays that way.”
“Can you at least tell me how many times you cheated?”
“Once.”
“Once?”
“Yeah, imagine my luck.”
“Does the father know?”
“No. And I’m not telling him.”
The nurse brought some apple juice and asked, “You feeling better yet hon?”
Lisa smiled yes. As soon as the nurse stepped away, Peter asked, “Are we still going to Brian’s?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Do we have to?”
“It’s close by and I can rest. Don’t worry, he’s working. I have his key.”
“I’d rather take you home.”
“Are you kidding?” She whispered so no one would hear. “You want me to sit on that train for a freaking hour? My mother will flip out when she sees me like this. What do I tell her? Oh, I skipped work to have an abortion? No. Take me to Brian’s.”
“Is he the father?”
“Keep your voice down. No. Just a friend.”
They were silent for a bit. Peter worried whether he could ever trust her again. Lisa’s guilt about what she’d done to him made her wonder if she’d made the right decision.
The nurse broke the silence. “Do you think you could use the ladies’ room?”
Lisa said yes, and the nurse walked her to the bathroom.
After being discharged, they took a cab to Brian’s.
“I’m gonna take a nap,” she said. Lisa went to the bedroom and climbed into Brian’s bed.
Peter watched TV in the living room. After a while, he stuck his head into the bedroom. Seeing Lisa awake, he asked, “Are you okay?”
“I could use some Tylenol,” she said.
Peter checked the bathroom. “None in here. Guess I’ll run out and buy some.”
“Look in the kitchen.”
Peter did as she suggested. He looked in the cupboards, shuffling things around, searching behind cereal boxes and cans. Utensils rattled as a drawer opened, then slammed shut. The noise stopped, and Lisa heard the tap running. Peter walked into the bedroom holding a bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water.
“Here.” He handed it to her. Lisa took two pills and then gave back the empty glass.
“I thought you said you’d never been here before.” He stood with his arms folded in front of his chest. “How’d you know where he kept the Tylenol?”
Lisa frowned. “I didn’t. It was a guess. Don’t your folks keep any meds in the kitchen?”
“I don’t know if I can believe anything you say.”
“Look, I’m not lying. I’ve never been here before. And Brian, first, he’s not the father, and second, he’s just a good friend from work.”
They started arguing again. The same argument they’d had when she first told him of her infidelity, only more heated.
“Yeah, you’ve been fucking Brian,” Peter said. “Who knows how many other guys you’re screwing behind my back.”
Stung by his accusations, she decided to tell him the truth. At this point, Lisa didn’t care if she hurt his feelings.
“I wasn’t going to tell you who the father was, because,” she hesitated. “Well. I figured keeping it a secret from you would be the best thing to do. So, I lied. I never cheated on you. The baby was yours. If you knew you were the father, you’d never let me have the abortion.”
Peter raised his hand to strike her. Lisa stared at him, daring him. He froze for a moment, then dropped his arm and stormed out of the apartment.
*
Steven Bays was born in Greece but at the age of two immigrated to the US, where he was raised in Brooklyn, New York. He always dabbled in writing but took it seriously after retiring from a thirty-five-year career in telecommunications. He enjoys long walks, listening to music, working out at the gym, and playing guitar in a rock-and-roll cover band. His stories have appeared in various online magazines.
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