him. Anyway, I'll put his 'energy of time' idea to use and keep going with my lousy story.
Time passed. Soon it was summer and three months had gone by since I'd killed my baby. The dreams still haunted me almost every night. Mom still refused to respond, and simply lay limp in her bed all day. I still felt constant guilt about what I'd done and the lives I'd ruined.
But in spite of all that, my life seemed to be returning to something that could maybe be called 'normal.' It was not a return to the way life had been before of course, since that was impossible. That previous 'me' was dead, having truly died the day I killed Jonathon. But I was getting used to my routine of dragging myself through each day. I was still to freaked out over what I'd done to go to school or work, so my job was to watched over mom while dad went to work every day. I tried to be cheerful and talkative around her, although she never seemed to respond to my efforts. I also tried to cheer up Dad in the evenings too, when he got depressed about how Mom wasn't progressing. On top of these challenges, I still had to just cope with the awful things I'd done, and with the never ending knowledge that I'd killed Jonathon. Life was not very pleasant at all.
But yes, something called 'normalcy' had finally come back to my life. However, one day something happened that shattered it like glass.
It was Clarice. I drove by her house like I often did, just to see if the 'For Sale' sign was still there, and if there was any evidence of people inside. I never expected any change, of course. But this time, to my surprise, the sign was indeed gone, and I could see lights on inside since it was dusk. Excitedly I pulled over to the curb and got out. Obviously someone had bought the home and moved in, so there was no sense in my going to the door. After all, never in a million years would Clarice be home like she used to be in the olden days. That was all a long ago dream. There was someone new living here now. I kept telling myself these things as I went to the door, trying to prepare myself so I wouldn't be disappointed when she didn't answer.
But that crazy side of me that had to have things PROVEN to it had taken over. I rang the bell and waited, my heart pounding. "She won't be here, you dope," I kept telling myself. But my heart kept racing just the same.
The door opened and to my shock Clarice was indeed standing there. I simply could not believe it!
But that's not the only shock I received. Indeed, it was at this instant that my world totally shattered. Her belly was big! She was going to have a baby!
"Clarice!" I said stupidly, staring not at her face but at her belly.
"Kate!" she answered just as stupidly, in a voice that sounded almost frightened.
That was all either of us said for a moment. It was the most awkward moment we had ever shared together.
"So," I said, trying to sound casual. "When did you get back in town?"
"Uhm, just yesterday," she answered, in a strained voice that was also an attempt at being casual. "Our house sold, so we have to move stuff out. We live in Florida now."
"Really?" I said, as if I didn't already know.
There were sudden footsteps in the hall behind her. "Is someone at the door, Clarice?" called out her mother's voice.
"No Mom," answered Clarice loudly. "I just thought I'd go out and sit on the front porch for a minute."
"Ok," came the answer. "But don't stay out too long. The mosquitoes will eat you alive."
I stared at Clarice dumbly as she quickly came out and shut the door, then grabbed my hand. "Come here!" she said insistently, leading me over to the bench on her porch. "We need to talk."
"You just lied to your Mom," I said stupidly. "Why didn't you tell her I was here?"
"Because she doesn't want me to talk to you!" came her sharp answer. "Who do you think has kept me from contacting you all this time?"
"Don't give me that!" I suddenly cried. "You could have at least contacted me on Facebook if you'd wanted to! Your Mom couldn't have prevented it."
"She could if she made sure I didn't have access to a computer!" she hissed back at me. "Which I didn't!"
"You expect me to believe your Mom was holding you prisoner in Florida? That's crazy!"
Clarice suddenly hung her head and didn't say anything for a minute. Then she whispered, "Yeah, you're right I guess. That is crazy. I'm 18. I could have insisted on contacting you no matter how much she protested. But I didn't. I just couldn't. Not after what I did to you." I saw a tear fall. "I never thought I'd see you again."
A sudden wave of compassion swam over me, followed by a wave of confusion. "I don't get any of this. What's going on?"
Clarice looked up at me with glistening eyes. "Isn't it obvious?" she said. "I'm having a baby--a boy, according to a recent ultrasound. I'm having the baby I told you I was going to abort. Remember how I called you a few days before I was going to the abortion clinic? Your voice sounded so sad and miserable, I suddenly knew I couldn't go through with it and do what you did. And so I betrayed you. I told you to get an abortion and that it was perfectly all right to do so. But when it came down to it, I couldn't do it myself."
"You mean the sadness in my voice stopped you?" I asked in surprise. Part of me was greatly relieved to think that I'd saved my best friend from the agony I'd been going through--just by having a sad voice!
She smiled weakly. "Not just that. I got to thinking about it too. And I realized it's all right for people to say 'a woman has a choice' and even to urge an abortion when it's not your own baby you're talking about. But this was MY baby! And I just couldn't do it. I couldn't, Kate. I love my little Michael! I couldn't do that to him! So I confessed everything to my mother--but not to my dad of course, since he'd have blown his top. And she quickly arranged for us to just get away to Florida for awhile, and start a new life and ... and ... " Her voice trailed off.
A lump had come up in my throat that threatened to cut off my oxygen supply. "Michael?" I repeated dumbly.
She nodded her head. "Remember that silly game we used to play in fifth grade, about what we'd name our first baby boy when we had one? Michael was always my favorite. Just like yours was always Jonathon."
I choked suddenly, to hear someone else utter the name that for many months now I had only been saying in my own mind. "Jonathon," I repeated, the tears starting to glisten in my own eyes.
"Oh, Kate, please forgive me!" cried Clarice suddenly, throwing her arms around me. "I didn't mean to talk you into it. I didn't mean for you to kill your little Jonathon. I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" She then started blubbering, and was reduced to a mass of helpless tears.
Curiously however, I didn't join her. True, my eyes were glistening and threatening to unloose a storm of my own. But something held me back. Whether it was stubborn, cruel unforgiveness or just crabby obstinacy, I didn't know. Or maybe I was just becoming more hardened because I had killed my baby, and people who kill like me are hardened.
But when I looked at her big belly, I suddenly knew the reason I wasn't crying. It wasn't lack of forgiveness or harshness. It was just plain, old-fashioned jealousy. Jealousy that bordered on anger and hatred. She was having a baby. And I wasn't. And even though I was glad for her, I also felt anger toward her at the same time. It was stupid, I know, but that's what I felt.
I stood up abruptly. "I've got to go," I announced flatly. And I meant it to, in more ways than one. It was only too obvious that Clarice and I could never be friends again. She would always have Michael. He would be born and grow up with her, and become a day-to-day part of her life. I could never visit her or talk with her or have anything to do with her without Michael being part of it. And because of Jonathon, I knew that was not something I could live with.
"Oh, Kate," begged Clarice grabbing my hand, her face a mess of tears. "Please don't leave me like this! Please at least say you forgive me! Please! I can't bear it if you don't! You've always been the strong one between us. You've always been the one who could do things
I was too weak to do. I can't go on if you don't say it, Kate! I can't!"
I looked at her in shock. ME, the strong one? I'd always thought the strong one between us was HER! I looked into her pleading eyes as they gushed out a river of tears. And I suddenly saw in those eyes, in spite of Michael, the same old Clarice I used to know. The same dear friend that had always meant so much to me. And then my heart melted and my own tears started to flow and we hugged each other and I found myself saying over and over, "I forgive you Clarice. I forgive you. I know you didn't mean to hurt me or Jonathon. I know you didn't. I forgive you."
We spent about ten minutes like that, gushing tears on her front porch like two moronic babies. Then suddenly her Mom came out and found us. And to my surprise, her eyes were cold and hard.
"Clarice needs to come in now, Kate," she said in a tight voice. "Say good-night please."
I looked at her curiously. So Kate hadn't been joking when she'd said her Mom didn't want her talking to me. But why the anger? Why keep us apart?
Yet even as I thought the question I knew the answer. I had had an abortion. Clarice had not. And unlike those mothers I'd seen with their daughters at the abortion clinic, abortion was something Clarice's Mom could ever go along with. And out of unreasonable fear that in some bizarre way I might talk Clarice into it--like she had