Miles From Kara (18 page)

I pressed my lips to his, crying fresh tears. “I love you too,” I whispered. “So much.”

“So tell me about your summer.”

I leaned back into Rose's plush sofa and smiled. What a summer.

Maggie decided to go through with the adoption, and though I knew she still thought about her baby, she was content with her decision, and I was happy for her. I made sure Maggie enrolled in school for the fall and then managed to score her a part-time job working for Tori, which helped lessen the blow when I quit. I respected Tori and what she did at Helping Hands, but that wasn't the right career path for me. I knew that now.

“Before you begin, I have my notes for you,” Rose said, passing me a small notepad with my name written in sharpie across the top. “You'll try to forgive my pointedness. It's a trait I'm unable to break free from.”

I laughed. “Oh, don't I know it.” I thumbed the pages of the notebook, torn between looking at her notes now or later, when she wasn't here to scrutinize me.

“Kara, do you have something on your mind?”

I looked away, needing a moment to think about how to articulate my thoughts. “It's just . . . why am I okay with her decision, but I'm not okay with mine?”

Rose leaned forward. “Why do we forgive others, when we're unable to forgive ourselves? It's easier to watch someone else do it than to put it into action.”

“I guess.”

“Tell me, what do you want to feel? Relief? Happiness? Contentment?”

I picked at a thread in my shirt, pulling it too much and causing a tiny hole to appear. “I want to feel free from it. I want to let it go. See, for all these years I've wondered what I would have done if I'd had the choice. Would I have had my baby despite the pressures involved? Would I have gone through with the abortion? But I'm starting to realize that
what-if
isn't the right question.”

Rose nodded, a proud smile on her face. “Very good. Now tell me,
Dr. Marcus
, what is the correct question?”

I thought about it for another minute, then glanced up at Rose. “I think maybe the right question is, what am I going to do with it? This has happened to me. I can't change that fact. I can live my life in regret, or I can take this experience and grow from it.”

Rose's smile took over her face, and she began to fan her eyes. “Grab me a tissue. My baby is growing up!”

I laughed. “Very funny.”

“In seriousness, though, your words are very mature for your age. And the very opposite from how you spoke of the abortion when we'd first met. It was an anchor around your foot, tying you down, but now, see, you can use it instead as a springboard for the rest of your life. It is one experience, one moment. It does not define you.”

“A springboard. I like that.” I smiled, and for once, I felt separated from my abortion. Like I could see it from an outsider's viewpoint—from a therapist's viewpoint. And I wanted to provide that help to others. I wanted to help them see their lives and problems more clearly, as Rose had helped me see mine.

I had spent the summer working at the center, watching as people came in and never returned. I knew now that wasn't the career for me. I shouldn't get attached, but I knew on some level I always would. Just like I knew that Rose was attached to Olivia . . . and to me. Maybe becoming attached could be a good thing in the right setting.

A setting just like Rose's.

I drew a breath for courage. “Which brings me to why I'm really here.”

Rose cocked her head. “I'm listening . . .”

“I wanted to ask you for a job.”

She leaned back in her chair, clearly surprised. “And what makes you think that I have a job to offer?”

“You don't have to pay me.”

“Why thank you. I appreciate that very much.”

I grinned. “I think you're amazing, Rose. Truly. What you did for Olivia . . . and me, well, I don't know that just any therapist could have done those things.”

“You give me too much credit, I'm afraid, especially where you are concerned. And you're far too strong willed to learn from anything other than your own mistakes.”

“See, that?” I said, pointing at her and laughing. “That's why I need you. You just insulted me, while also providing guidance. I want to be a Rose when I grow up.”

Rose rolled her eyes, which sent me into laughing hysterics. It was the first time I'd ever seen her do it. “Again, I have no idea what job you have in mind. As you can see”—she motioned around her office—“I am a solo practice.”

“Yes, but you could use a receptionist. Someone to manage your meetings. Answer your calls. Get you coffee or . . . ice cream.” I said the last one in a singsong voice, and though she was on the verge of rolling her eyes, she was also listening. I took that as a positive sign. “And like I said, you don't have to pay me.”

Rose huffed. “Do you think I'm in the business of charity? If so, you have really overestimated me.”

“Please. I like it here, and I think I could learn a lot from you.”

“But, dear, you understand that I cannot discuss my patients with you. That would violate their privacy, as well as the law.”

“No, of course not. But we can talk about general practice techniques while I'm giving you your messages.”

“Answering machines are for messages.”

“But they could be accidentally deleted.”

She lit a cigarette, took a long puff, and peered over at me. “And what happens when you're back in school. That is only a few weeks away now. What then?”

“I can schedule my classes around work, if you would like. Most are core classes I hate anyway.”

She looked affronted. “I will have no such thing. You will come by three days a week. After classes. And you will focus on those classes you hate above anything else. Everyone hates their core classes. You aren't alone there. I had to take Chemistry 101 twice just to score a passing grade!”

“Wait. Am I hearing you correctly? You failed a class?”

Rose smirked. “I will deny it should you tell another soul. Consider it confidential office information.”

I stood up taller, smiling. “So, does that mean you're hiring me?” I could hardly keep from squealing, but I knew overemoting would do nothing but make Rose question my sanity, and thereby would make her turn me down flat.

Rose steadied her gaze on mine. “We will test this on a month-by-month basis.”

“Absolutely.”

“And if you bother me, I am allowed to fire you without question.”

“Of course.”

She threaded her fingers in front of her. “And if this interferes with your classes, I am allowed to fire you without question. And yes, I would know.”

“Whatever you say.”

She still wasn't smiling, but she wasn't frowning now either. Again, progress. I put on my best neutral face, waiting. I needed this job so badly that I was willing to agree to practically anything for her to accept.

“Okay,” she said finally, and I couldn't help it. I jumped up, clapping my hands together, and then sat down immediately, watching for her reaction, but she only smiled. “I take my coffee three sugars, one cream.”

“Three and one. Got it.”

“And my ice cream preference is—”

“Blueberry. I remember from Olivia.”

She cocked her head. “Okay, then.”

“You won't regret this!”

“Oh, I have no doubt that I will regret this. The question is how often.”

I laughed. “You love me. Admit it!”

“I think you are going to make an amazing therapist some day, Kara Marcus. That is what I think.”

I smiled. “Really?”

“Undeniably.”

***

I parked my car outside the apartment and stared up at it like it held some key to my worst nightmares. I'd been to Preston's apartment so often that it felt almost as familiar to me as my own. I knew where he kept his glasses and plates. I knew which drawer was the junk drawer. But things were different now. We were different.

I pushed open my car door and started for Preston's, knowing that I had to do this. I reached the door and knocked softly, a part of me hoping he wouldn't answer. Maybe he was in the shower or at the pool. Something. But then the door opened and his eyebrows threaded together.

“Kar? Hey, everything okay?”

I nodded, my lip trembling. “Yes. There's just something I need to tell you.”

He stepped back for me to come in, and I walked into his common area, memories of the two of us there before Olivia had ever come along flashing through my mind. It was the same. Every detail the very same. But it felt lighter now, happier almost, like the apartment itself was finally content. I smiled a little, realizing just how far my best friend had come over the last year, where he refused to date a girl seriously for fear of getting hurt. Like he had by me.

I set my phone down on his counter so I wouldn't fidget with it, then drew a breath and turned to face him. “Preston, I know this is the last thing you want to talk about, but, well, it's about the abortion.”

He held up his hands. “I'm fine, Kara. It was a long time ago.”

“I know, but there are some details that you don't know. That I think . . . well, I don't know if they will help. Just . . . I need to tell you, I guess.”

He stared at me, waiting.

“You know my mom, Preston. You know how crazy she can get. Well, when I told her that I was pregnant, she immediately took me to her ob-gyn to confirm it, and then scheduled the abortion. She didn't ask what I wanted to do. She didn't care. She just wanted the problem gone.” I hung my head at my words. “And I know that doesn't make it okay. I should have fought her. I should have gone to you. I should have done a lot of things. But I had never gone against my mom. She knew best,” I said, shrugging, tears in my eyes.

Preston took a long breath. “So . . . are you saying you didn't choose to have it done? She did?”

I nodded. “Yes. I know that doesn't change anything. You were my best friend. I should have trusted you to help. It just all happened so fast and she . . .”

“Kara.”

I glanced up, bracing myself for what he would say.

“It's okay.”

“It is?” I asked, unable to hold back my tears now.

“We were young. Sure, I wished you'd have come to me, but I know how your mom is. And I know how you are. We're still friends, Kara. You know that, right? I'm still here for you.”

“I'm sorry.”

He shrugged. “It's done. We can't dwell on it now.”

I laughed. “You sound like Rose.”

“Oh, don't tell me you're under her super powers now, too?”

My grin widened. “Oh, I'm more than that. I'm on her staff now.”

“Watch out, Charleston!” I swatted at him and we laughed. “Are you heading over to your apartment?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just want to pick something up first.”

I turned to go, when Preston reached out to stop me. He had my phone in his hand, staring at it, and then as though coming to the conclusion of something important, he glanced up at me and placed the phone into my palm. “Kara . . . I think you should call your mom. Tell her what you told me. Tell her how you feel. It's been a long time. I think she'd like to hear how badly she hurt you.”

I met his gaze, unable to speak for a moment. I had never thought of it that way, that she had hurt me, but as soon as the words processed through my mind, I knew they were true. She did hurt me. I trusted her to take care of me, and she let me down.

I opened my mouth to tell him that I didn't want to talk to her about it, when he said, “I know what you're going to say. And you're right. But she's your mom. Think about it, okay?”

***

I walked slowly to my car, my mind on what Preston had said. I'd never once told my mom how the abortion affected me. I'd never spoken to her about it at all. But things were different now, I was different. I wasn't sixteen-year-old Kara, unable to think for herself.

I swallowed hard and cycled through my contact list until I found Mom's cell. I clicked send before my courage failed me, and after two rings . . . “Hi, honey,” she said. It was the same greeting she always gave me, but somehow, in that moment, the words made me want to cry.

“Mom, can we talk?”

I heard her closing a drawer on her end and then the sound of a chair adjusting. She was at her office, the worst possible place to have this conversation, but it was now or never. I drew a breath. “I want to talk about the abortion.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice cautious.

“I guess what I want to know is . . . why?”

Mom released a breath and started to respond, but stopped, her voice hitching, and I wondered if she was becoming emotional. “You were sixteen, Kara. What would you have me do? Allow you to ruin your future?”

Anger rose up in my chest. “It wasn't your decision to make. You didn't even ask me. You just told me what I had to do, and every day since I've regretted that decision. You made me do it, and now, now . . .” My voice shook, my words failing me. I didn't want to lose control in the conversation because that would only give her more leverage against me. “It hurt me, Mom. You hurt me.”

There was silence for a long time, then, “I'm sorry.”

I lifted my head in shock. “You are?”

“Of course. I did what I thought was best. You were my child.
Are
my child. You can't understand how impossible it is to make these kinds of decisions, how we worry as parents that we are forever impacting you. I've thought of that decision a thousand times, too, wondering if I made the right call, and honestly? I don't know. I just did my best, Kara. I know that was your decision, your baby, but you're mine and despite what you might think, I love you with all my heart. I just wanted to protect you.”

Tears pooled in my eyes. “You love me? Still?”