Spangler how worthless she was, but her lips and tongue wouldn’t
respond to her urging. She couldn’t make a sound–until she said,
“Uh,” and opened her eyes in the recovery room.
She was on a wheeled cart with railed sides, flat on her back, staring
at an acoustic-tiled ceiling. For a moment she couldn’t figure out
where she was.
Then she remembered everything, and she was amazed that the abortion
had been such a quick and easy procedure.
They kept her in the recovery room for an hour, just to be sure she
wasn’t going to hemorrhage.
By three-thirty she was in the Pontiac with her mother, on the way
home.
During the first half of the short drive, neither of them spoke.
Mama’s face looked like a stone carving.
Finally Amy said, “Mama, I know you’ll want me to keep a curfew for a
couple of months, but I hope you’ll let me work evenings down at The
Dive, if that’s the shift Mr. Donnatelli gives me.” “You can work
whenever you want to work,” her mother said coldly.
“I’ll come home straight from work.” “You don’t have to,” Mama said.
“I don’t care what you do. I just don’t care anymore. You won’t
listen to me anyway. You won’t behave yourself. You’ve loosened the
reins on that thing inside of you, and now there’s no holding it
back.
There’s not a thing I can do. I wash my hands of you. I wash my
hands.”
“Mama, please. Please. Don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I just feel numb, blank. I don’t feel much of
anything for you right now.” “Don’t give up on me.”
“There’s only one road to Heaven,” Mama said. But if you want to go to
Hell, you’ll find a thousand roads that’ll take you there. I can’t
block all of them.”
“I don’t want to go to Hell,” Amy said.
“It’s your own choice,” Mama said. “From here on it’s your own
doing.
Do whatever you want. You’ll never listen to me anyway, so I wash my
hands.” As she spoke she pulled the car into the driveway of the house
on Maple Lane.
“I’m not coming in with you. I’ve got to do some grocery shopping. If
your father’s back from the office, tell him the reason you look so
pale is because you ate a hamburger for lunch, while we were shopping
at the mall, and it didn’t agree with you. Go to your room and stay
out of his way. The less he sees of you, the less likely he is to get
suspicious.”
All right, Mama.”
When Amy went in the house she found that her father hadn’t returned
from the office yet. Joey was still playing at Tommy Culp’s house.
She was alone.
She changed into pajamas and a bathrobe, then called Liz Duncan.
“It’s over.”
“Really?” Liz asked.
“I just got home.” “You’re all scraped out?”
“Do you have to put it so crudely?” Amy asked. That’s what they do,”
Liz said blithely. “They scrape you out. How do you feel?”
“Scraped out,” Amy admitted miserably.
“Sick in the tummy?”
“A little. And I ache . . . down there.”
“You mean you’ve got a sore cunt?” Liz asked. “Do you have to talk
that way?”
“What way?”
“Gross.”
“That’s one of my most charming qualities–my complete lack of
inhibitions.
Listen, other than your tummy and your cunt, how are you feeling?”
“Very, very tired.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes. It was easier than I thought it would be.”
“Gee, I’m relieved. I was worried about you, kid. I was really,
really worried.”
“Thanks, Liz.” “Are you grounded for the summer?”
“No. I thought there’d be a curfew for a while, but Mama says she
doesn’t care what I do. She’s washed her hands of me.”
“She said that?”
“Yes.” aMy God, that’s terrific!”
“Is it?” Amy wondered.
“Of course it is, you silly ass. You make your own rules now.
You’re free, kid!” Liz put on a phony Southern Negro dialect: Yo’
massah have done turned yo’ loose, chile!”
Amy didn’t laugh. She said, aRight now, all I care about is getting
some sleep. I was awake all last night and most of the night before.