Unpregnant

At my core I knew, and I’d known since I first suspected it was a possibility, that a baby was not right for me, not now. Every cell of my being
rebelled against the idea

She was right. Of course she was. Offering to take her to see her dad was just an easy way to absolve myself of all the wrongs I’d done. And Bailey wasn’t easy. She never was. It was why I’d rushed into the arms of new friends once we entered high school. Friends whom everyone liked. Friends who did what was expected. Friends who didn’t question. Friends who didn’t push. Friends who didn’t ask for anything. Simple friends. Empty friends.

“I should be able to just walk down the street and say, ‘Hello, my name is Veronica, my boyfriend is an asshole, here is my five hundred dollars, oh yes, I’d love a cup of water, thanks so much, ten-minute wait? No problem.”

“I tried to convince myself for years it wasn’t true, you know. Like maybe if I ignored it, it would go away. I already had a hard time fitting in. I didn’t need something else to make me even more different. And I didn’t tell you because I was worried how you’d react.”