You were crying while you were in bed. I didn't know how to make you feel better. I did what I knew and like a pre-pubescent boy I kissed you on the cheek. I kissed your eyes and tasted the salt of your heart. I knew where the pain was from; I was there when it happed; it was my fault. I caressed my finger transversely on your back. My kissing turned passionate. I put my hand up your shirt. I could feel your heart beat; anything is better than being sad. Your breath was hard and you spread your legs and raised your ass so I could take off your panties.  I took off my underwear. I took my time and entered you slowly.  I asked you if it hurt and you said it was ok. I whispered I love you and you laughed the way you say I love you back. Your cheeks blushed and you looked in to my eyes. I wrapped my arms around you and braced your head back. I came inside of you and stayed in you until we fell asleep.


                We woke up early to make it to an appointment. All things considered it was a fairly average morning: Coffee, Danish and run to the bus. You would never guess that we were headed to an abortion clinic. My coffee was cold; it wouldn't warm my hands. My girlfriend sat beside me and said nothing. She stared at the signs and the people on the street as they passed by. We arrived early checked in and took a seat. The couches were soft. I was afraid I was going to fall asleep.

                I looked around the office at all of the men waiting. They all looked guilty or sad. I felt bad for them; it made me feel better. I knew that my girlfriend was going to be ok; that we would be ok. I think that their sadness was their conscious. It was their decision. They may have forced this and now they have to live up to it like a blinded firing squad. My conscience was clear; this was her decision. I had no weight in this; I had no right to decide. I did my part, that was obvious and what happened after it left my end was no longer mine. This was hers. I look at the faces of those who forced this choice, now realizing that this was also the death of someone else and they could never get it back.

                They called my girlfriends name and she quickly disappeared behind an off white door. After about fifteen minutes I fell asleep on the couch. The door slammed and I woke up. A nurse was staring at me with a disappointed glare. I grabbed a magazine and tried my best to stay awake.

                I felt bad for the girls that were there by themselves or with their mom or a friend. These poor girls who were fooled into love over cocktails only to be here first thing in the morning with way more than a hangover and a fake phone number. I want to think that for some of them this is the first time, but I would be lying. If I wasn't so tired it probably would have broken my heart.

                When my name was called I followed an attractive girl with brown hair behind the off white door. I checked out her ass as we walked. I felt bad for doing it. I wanted to make small talk with her but knew it probably would be a bad time to do that. She led me into a room made up of curtains and until she opened it I thought I was ready for what I would see.

                My girlfriend was sleeping on a reclining chair and she had a heat pad on her stomach and three duvets. She had a needle in her arm and an exhausted look that made me almost cry. I put my hand on her stomach and told her that I loved her; she smiled and let out a faint laugh that let me know she still loved me. I felt relieved, after everything that happened I could not lose her; I'm not that strong.

                She was very weak. I let her sleep and I read a magazine. I was quietly uncomfortable. I only had a cheap wicker chair with no back to sit on. I wanted to lie on my girlfriend and blanket her but I knew I could not. She would briefly wake up to take sips of ginger ale and tell me about what had happened. She was high. I wanted her to tell me she loved me but the drugs were not that strong.

                We were in the room for an hour. I listened to other girls in the room talk to the nurses or the people they were with. Surprisingly this was not their first time doing this and more surprisingly how most of them were married with families. It all made me sad. I wanted to put my girlfriend's needle in to my veins.

                We took a cab home and I went to the grocery store. I bought her a week's worth of food, a heating pad, movies and a feather pillow that would stab her with tiny feathers. I rubbed her back in bed and told her that I loved her; and explained why.

                In people's lives they are given choices that can change the directions of their lives. This choice did that in an unexpected kind of way. I walked around the city the night after we found out by the doctor that she was pregnant. I wanted the baby, I wanted it with her. I didn't blame her for what she did, what she wanted. I want a life with her, I want a family with her and I wanted to be with her. Your decisions make who you are and I love her.


You look like a bird. Your skin is perfect, or perfect in the way something flawed that you love is perfect. You smile with the corners of your mouth and are embarrassed by your laugh. You have a look for every feeling. You don't like when I touch you when you yawn. You look at me and I don't notice. You carefully pull away your eyes when you kiss me. You count the seconds in today's day until you can lie beside me in bed. You close your eyes. You fall asleep.

The End

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