My Final Approval
James Mehsling/DN
Note: This Is part three of a
four-part fiction story.
I sat endlessly looking for an
swers to her questions. But I
couldn’t find any. I really didn't
know how Anthony was going
to take the whole ordeal. Hell, I
was still trying to deal with it
myself.
“Well, first of all, he is not my
boyfriend, he is only an acquain
tance," 1 said. “And I really don’t
know how he is going to take it.
He has one child already and I
don’t know if he wants another."
I could feel my eyes start to
gather with tears.
The woman told me to go see
my physician to verify what she
had just told me — about testing
positive. Then she told me I had
plenty of time to make a final
decision, and I should talk things
over with Anthony and someone
I could trust, preferably my"
mother.
i conciuuea mat mis nice oia
woman often bonded with her
patients, because before I left
she made herself available to me
and told me to come back to see
her and let her know how I was
doing.
"Shanequa, Shanequa, didn’t
you hear what I just said?"
My mother was asking me
questions as I came out of the
trance that I’d slipped into. Hell,
I was almost there — I was al
most at the place of my final call.
I looked over at my mother
and answered her question. The
look on her face put me back at
her house when I had first told
her of my ordeal.
Whfen I had first pulled up in
front of our house, I noticed my
mother wasn’t at home. I went to
go into the house, but I was
unable to get in because I didn’t
have a key to the screen door.
My neighbor came out and
told me my mother had gone to
the store. He then asked me if I
could take him to the store. I told
him yes. 1 figured by the time I
got back home, my mother
should be back. But I was wrong.
I went to my sister’s house to
get her spare key. 1 walked into
her house with an empty look on
my face.
“Shanequa, what are you do
ing home in the middle of the
day, something must be wrong,”
my sister said. I didn’t say a word,
and then she looked at me with
a studyingeye and asked, "You’re
not pregnant, are you?"
I gradually looked up with
confused tears in my eves and
told her I possibly could be. I
could hear the excitement in her
voice.
“I thought you were, because
of the way you were looking
when you walked in here," she
said. My sister sat back in her
chair.
"So what have you come to
talk to mama about — I know
not about having an abortion,"
she said.
I looked up in a startled way.
1 J "No. But 1 want her to know
my circumstances," I said.
But really, I thought to my
self, I was going to my mother
for answers, because I didn’t
have any.
I wanted so much to blame
someone — I wanted to blame
Anthony. 1 wanted to blame my
doctor for allowing me to get off
the pill. I just needed to blame
someone, but the only one I
could blame was me.
My sister finally gave me the
key, and I told her I nad to leave
and would talk to her later.
When I got home, my mother
was waiting for me. Our neigh
bor had inarmed her that I was
looking for her. I walked into the
house with a solemn look on my
face and sat down at our living
room table. She was in a some
what cheery mood.
•So what’s wrong with you,
your brother causing you prob
lems again?" she asked as she
conli nued to u npack her grocer
ies and store them in their re
spective places.
I said nothing. I didn’t quite
know how to find the words to
tell her about my unwanted preg
nancy. I shook my head to let her
know that was not the case.
Once again I lowered my head
as she walked toward the refrig
erator.
“Now, what’s wrong? You
didn’t come home for notning—
what, you pregnant or some
thing?”
My mother looked up with a
smirk on her face, as if she knew
it couldn’t be that extreme. But
she didn’t take the conversation
any further, and she stopped for
a minute with one of her grocery
items floating in mid-air, waiting
for my response.
Nothing would come out of
my mouth, but my head nodded
up and down answering yes as
my mouth said nothing. Then
quickly without much effort, I
was speaking again.
“But I don’t want it!" Those
were the words that ran out of
my mouth as soon as my bottom
lip dropped open.
“Well, Shanequa," my mother
said, “it is up to you — you do
what you want to do. I am not
going to be in your decision
process, because you are not
going to say that I made you
nave an abortion or keep a child
that you didn’t want. I will not
have that on my conscious, so
you decide what you want to do,
and I’ll support you."
And in one endless motion
she went back to finishing un
packing the groceries. The relief
of telling her and having some
one I love know of my ordeal
made it easier. But it also put the
reality of my situation back into
perspective, and the water that
had started to well up in my eyes
at the pregnancy clinic was now
streaming down my face.
At the clinic I had realized for
the first time that 1 was with child
and had to make an important
decision, one that would be fi
nal.
Linda kay Morgan is a junior broad
casting major and a Diversions con
tributor.
WOMEN’S CLINIC OF LINCOLN PC
^B^B S.G. Swanson, MD J. Maly, MD
T YOUNG WOMEN S CARE PROVIDED BY WOMEN
SERVICES • physical exams provided by Certified
Nurse Practitioners with physician consult
available
• suited to meet the needs of young women
to age 25
• offered Mondays 4 to 7:30 pm
EDUCATION • Healthy Lifestyles- including good nutri
tion, menstruation, self breast exam, and
hygeine
• birth control and prevention of sexually
transmitted diseases
220 Lyncrest 434-3370
Ill
W 'J' . V ’*
BUYANYrORir
HOAGIE
1/£ PRICE
EVERYDAY
NO COUPON NECE88AHY
_ 434-7055