Chapter 1
“Max, this is all your fault, how could you!” “Shut up, Romelle, this conversation never happened. Move on and do what you need to do. And if I hear rumors of you telling anyone, I will handle the situation with you myself.” That’s my daddy. I wonder why he treats my mommy so mean. They just got off a phone call. He never listens to her; she cried the whole time. I think my daddy’s a jerk, but I love my mommy. I’m so excited to meet my new mommy one day. So far, all I can do is listen to her cry some nights. I wish I could really be there to keep her warm. I’ve only been a soul for a month now, but I like it.
I’ve heard from the other souls that one day, when I’m born, I’ll get to breathe air. And be held by my mommy. My parents fight a lot. My daddy fought with my mommy just to make me. She wasn’t happy, but I know she will love me anyway. I just heard their whole argument. Daddy just found out about me. Long story short, he’s not happy. He wants my mommy to let doctors pull me out of her tummy. Pfft, how rude. This is my little cozy home for how.
I mean, my mommy is right…this is all his fault. Just existing is stressful. I hate the food mommy feeds me, I puke it up most times. My grandparents hate me, and my daddy. No one told him to hurt my mommy, she’s only 16. They are neighbors. Daddy is 18 and is going off to the army soon. Mommy is still in school, she’s so smart. I comfort myself with these facts to ignore the bad things my family tells my mommy to do to me. Sometimes, I get scared that my mommy will listen to them one day. I can hear my granny talking to my mommy, “Romelle, you need to go see. Drink some juice and go pee in 30 minutes.” “Mom, please. Can I take the test tomorrow?” “You need to know if you are pregnant or not, Romelle! I’ve already talked to Max’s parents, and they are willing to pay for all medical costs. If he got you pregnant, you need to terminate the pregnancy. I’m not helping raise a child that’s…that’s, half rapist.”
Hmmm, I wonder if that’s like, a race of people or something. Is being half rapist kind of like being half black? Why do my grandparents talk so bad about me. So what if I’m half black or…whatever she said. They should still love me. My mommy loves me, even though I’m half whatever I am, right? “I knew it, I knew it! That neighbor Max has been a troublemaker from the start! Getting our teenage daughter pregnant! Can you believe this, Patty!? What the hell did he think would come of that?” There goes my grandad again, raging around the house, like always. Well, as of late. I guess not like ‘always’. There was a time when I didn’t exist. And I think people want to go back to that time.
I’ve heard from the other souls that grandparents are supposed to give you cookies when your parents aren’t looking and tell you war stories: I even heard they tell you their life experiences of how they met and fell in love. (sometimes I wonder if my mommy has ever been in love) Grandparents are supposed to be loving and kind. Not rude, like mine. Why does everybody hate me? Is it because they all have real bodies and I only exist in my mommy’s tummy? Well, you just wait and see…I will have a real body one day, too. And my mommy can give me hugs and kisses…and snuggles!
“Get in the damn car, Romelle! The appointment is set for 11:15, we can not afford to miss it. Stop crying and get ready! You know damn well this choice is best for everyone. 16 and pregnant, what are you…a stereotype? Or, or some M-TV’s prime drama…get over your feelings and get your ass in the damn car. I don’t know why you would even want to have sympathy on that child. After what Max did, why would you even consider? You have 10 minutes to get ready.” Don’t cry, mommy. I should be the one crying…my mommy’s going to kill me. This will be my last hour as a soul. I guess I won’t have a body, after all. I guess everybody else was right. I will never get to be held by my mommy, or sit on my grandparents lap, or taste a cookie, or listen to war stories.
There will never be a funeral for me. No ceremony in a church, temple, masque, or synagogue. My time ends in blood. A cold silence that only me and my mommy will know. It seems like no one else cares. Have I been the only one to hear my mommy cry? Maybe it’s best that I’m not born into this cold, cruel world. My daddy would never love me, anyway. My grandparents wouldn’t, either. Sometimes I wonder if my own mommy would.
“Romelle, Thouley. The doctor will see you now.” The air is stiff here, mommy. Maybe because it’s the clouded judgements of adults killing babies. You just ignored the blood on the floor, but that’s going to be me soon. Mommy, how could you? I thought you loved me…I guess I was wrong. Fine, I hate you! I never wanted to meet you and my rapist father anyway! You are a terrible person! You should have swallowed! Why would you do this to us! I hate life, but I don’t want to die. I’m sorry, mommy. I’m just coming to terms with death. Okay, let’s do this. I was just kidding when I said I hate you, I was angry. Take a deep breath for me. I guess I will never get to see what breathing air feels like. I’m sad I will never have a body, or play in the sun. I’m upset that my daddy was mean to you, and that you cry yourself to sleep. I feel so alone, hearing the world is against me, and that in the end you listened too. You took their side. You are no better than my father. You hurt people because you are hurt, why mommy?
“Is this the right decision, doctor?” “Romelle, you are a victim of rape, 16 years old, in high school, still living with your parents, and going on 3 months pregnant. Do you think this is the wrong decision?”
