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and take responsibility, like the man was supposed to.
She waited an entire month before she brought it up, this time
preparing all her arguments beforehand so she wouldn’t be caught by
surprise again without a comeback. She knew she was ready,
and that was all that really mattered. She knew what she wanted,
and that was all she needed to know.
    Once again, Scott took her by surprise. He
was so quick with his reasons for not wanting to have children, it
was like he'd been preparing, too. She couldn’t actually be sure he
hadn't. In fact, thinking about it, she was sure he'd known
about it before she told him and must have been practicing for the
big moment at the same time as she'd been. All her arguments fell
on deaf ears; she just couldn't bring him around to her point of
view. This time he'd suggested the abortion first. But she'd
already been planning it. Someone on the telephone had helped her
decide.
    She wasn't supposed to think about that.
    They'd been very convincing, though. She
hadn't wanted to do it, this time; they'd made her change her mind.
It was her duty.
    As a reward, they let her see the shipping
van that came to pick up the remains. She thought they were giving
her a chance to say goodbye, to the life she'd dreamed for herself,
to hope, to expectation.
    The third time had been the last; for her,
for him. Three strikes and you were out, right? That's what she'd
told herself.
    Scott still hadn’t gotten a job that could
actually support them, still hadn't gotten his shit together and
quit drinking, hadn't done anything to turn their lives around or
made any kind of name for himself as an auto mechanic. It had all
been bottled nonsense, a story he told himself and her, that he was
gonna make it someday and all their problems would be over. Instead
they sank deeper and deeper into debt. She'd sold all her nice
clothes, her books, the furniture and heirlooms passed down through
her family. He'd sold his plasma. It was never enough, and so they
took the final dive, sold off their pride and went on welfare. Her,
on welfare, like a bum! How could he have done this to her? How
could he make her live like this?
    And she'd gone on contraceptives for him,
even though she hated the thought of it, and hated him for making
her do such horrible things.
    A year went by and she ran out of her
birth-control pills. She didn't bother getting any more, thinking
that the new motivator would be the push he needed to finally get
moving and do something with himself, do something for his family , but when she told him about her scrip running out,
all he'd said was “Okay." Just "Okay." like he didn't care or
didn't believe her. Just "Okay." It wasn't okay.
    Two months later when she knew for sure, she
told Scott about how she'd stopped taking the pill. Didn't he
remember? He'd said he'd thought she'd get more. Typical. She told
him she was pregnant again. The look he got on his face told her
everything.
    This time they let her see the cart, and the
little white package with the red labeling on the side, as it was
loaded on to the back of the van; she knew she was meant to see it,
because the driver and the men loading the van all stopped what
they were doing at the same time, just as she was leaving the
clinic, and paused to stare mutely at her for a full two minutes
before just as suddenly going back to their business. She'd let out
a wordless, animal scream at them, but they'd ignored her and
carried on as though they'd heard nothing. She was sure she'd made
a noise, but just to make sure she screamed again. They didn't even
look up. Maybe they were used to that kind of thing. The memory
brought a blush to her cheek.
    She'd wanted that child.
    She was sure that cocaine wouldn't solve the
problem, but it would help her stuff it down for another
minute...
    Christ, she was going crazy thinking about
this shit. It occupied most of her day, thinking about it all over
and over and over and all of it and more, and the crying. All