Scribbler's Debris

Running with random topics twenty minutes at a time.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Topic: The Doctor's Office

The Drive
For me, it's an uncomfortable silence in the car. Cinda's next to me. On her face she wears a look of aloofness, but her arms are held tightly across her chest like an unprepared warrior in pseudo battle stance. Unusual for her because she makes clothes, t-shirts mostly, that reveal her latest thoughts in three word statements. Sometimes she puts her wit on her bum, but mostly over her breasts. That's where everyone is looking anyway. Today, I can't see what she's been thinking about by looking at her shirt or her pants. Clearly, it's none of my business.

Fine. Fine! I reach for my beat up leather shoulder bag that sits on the littered floor of the passenger side of the car. Gum wrappers, bottle caps, stray papers, her stuff all over the place. Fumbling around my bag while we sit at a red light, I find my iPod and plug it into the cigarette thingie.

Do we have to listen to this right now?
What? S'cuse me? Come on, sing along. When I'm a walkin' I strut my stuff and I'm so strung out...I'm high as a kite I just might - what?
Mom, please?
K. You wanna talk?

Shit. I don't want to talk, for I fear the words that will come out of my mouth. My desire, to be the cool mom, the supportive mom, the mom that can keep it together in a time of crisis, is so strong that I don't want to say anything. I just want to go, wait, and see what happens to my baby girl's presence when it's over. My self can not process this fast enough.

He said he's not coming.
Woah, woah, woah. Did you say that little-
(bite your tongue woman! don't say it!)
He said he's not coming?

Commence the breakdown. She's crying. I'm about to, but I'm the strong one here and I have to keep it together. No longer able to function an automobile, I pull over. I turn off the Violent Femmes. I lean over and make my upper body available to my daughter to absorb her tears, her fear, her anger, her hurt. When the shaking stops, I bust out the lavender oil, sprinkle it around the car, then grab my cell phone.

Um, yeah?
Ty. Cinda needs you. Get your little ass ready cause I'm pickin you up in five.

Now that felt good. Taking charge of the situation. Ty, boyfriend to Lucinda for three years. They met in homeroom in the ninth grade and have been inseperable since. I wish I could hate him. I really do, but he's a good kid. They both are.

I'll be damned if I'm going to let him abandon you now.
Cinda, you will never forget this day. Ty will never forget this day. He's coming.

Great. She's fidgeting with the iPod now, playing with the settings as her mood shifts into a state of agitation. I don't care. This isn't supposed to be easy and you're not supposed to do it alone. That boy is going to sit in the waiting room with me and all the others who have found themselves amidst a moral dilemma. And then, when we leave, it's his responsibility to take care of her. You do it kid! If you're old enough to be fucking her, you're old enough to clean up her blood.

Hi Ty.
Get in. We're running late.

He climbs in the back. For a moment I'd like to be a bystander, just to see the looks they exchange in these moments. Gotta drive though. This is between them, and I find myself once again in an uncomfortable silence. Oh you kids! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that they have to endure this loss. What about me? Today, I lose my first grandchild. My daughter and Ty lose their baby, their innocence and who knows what else. Thank god we get to the clinic before I can get too wrapped up in my drama.

OK you two. I'll be waiting by the car if you need me.
Mom? Mom.
You can do this. I'm certain. I love you. I'll be right here.
(don't leave Ty...don't leave Ty...go in...go on...hold her hand...tell her you love her...tell her everything will be fine...please god! just this one more thing! please?)

Ty puts his arm around her tiny waist and helps her get through the door.
The doctor's office.


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home