Evelyn laid a hand on Valerie's arm. "The worst thing you can do," she said slowly, calmly, "is to feel trapped by preg-nancy. It won't make anything easier. There are options avail-able for you, especially since we caught this at an early stage."
"I know." She unconsciously pulled her arm away from Fletcher's touch to restore the customary distance between a patient and her physician.
The doctor nodded toward the door. "Ignore those boors outside. They're here once in a while when they can get a reporter to show up." She sat down beside Valerie and took her hand gently. "Whether to keep or end a pregnancy is one of the hardest decisions a woman can make. You have to deal with all the `what ifs' that arise. And I don't mean the medical uncertainties; a pregnancy termination is a lot safer now than giving birth. I mean your uncertainties."
The older woman's voice softened. "When I was about nine-teen, I had an abortion. I was a first-year premed student and couldn't be bothered with pregnancy. I regretted my decision almost immediately afterward. I used to wonder what sort of child I might have had. Pregnancy is the first step on the road to forever. If you decide to give birth to a child, it will affect you all your life." She looked directly into Valerie's eyes with the gentle gaze of hard experience. "The decision to terminate the pregnancy will be with you forever, too, though. It's a rare woman that can put such an action completely behind her and get on with her life." She touched Valerie's arm again with soothing reas-surance. "I suffered a great deal of guilt and wondering when I had my abortion." Her fingers tightened. "If there were any way that I could let you make your decision without pain or fear or guilt, I would. Believe me." Her fingers released their grip the instant she realized that the contact unnerved Valerie more than it comforted her.
Valerie gazed at the doctor with puzzlement. "You sound as if I've already made my choice."
"Haven't you?"
She stared at Dr. Fletcher with unchecked surprise. Her eyes lowered just a bit in realization. "Yes, I guess so. I don't think-I mean, I can't have a baby right now. If it had only been a couple of years from now, I-"
"Valerie." Evelyn spoke quietly. "Don't let the if onlys sneak up on you. You're pregnant right now. You have to decide based on what your life is like right now. You have the right to termi-nate your pregnancy. It was a hard-won right and the battle"-she nodded again toward the outside world-"is still being fought." She gave Valerie's arm another reassuring squeeze, then turned her attention to the folder.
"How does this Thurs-day sound? You've got a new job, so how about six-thirty in the evening?"
"For-?"
"The procedure."
Valerie felt a strange panic overwhelm her. The bloody im-age on the picket sign flashed crimson in her mind. "The abor-tion?"
Dr. Fletcher let go a shallow, disapproving huff. "The preg-nancy termination. That's really all it is. If you don't want to be pregnant right now, we can grant your wish. Believe me, there are almost as many women in the fertility program here try-ing to become pregnant. It all evens out. We try to give everyone what she wants." After a moment, Valerie quietly said, "Six-thirty is all right." Dr. Fletcher made a few notes in the folder. "Fine. You might want to have someone drive you here and back. Are you going to discuss this with the father?"
Valerie nodded.
"Good. It's always best for a relationship not to have any secrets. Can you tell me a little bit about him?"
Valerie took a tissue from her purse and worried at it. "He's just a wonderfully caring man-" Fletcher cut her off. "I mean his physical characteristics."
"Well..." Valerie thought the question curious. "He's tall. Black hair. Brown eyes. He has a beard."
"White?"
Valerie frowned. "No, it's the same color as the rest of his hair."
"I mean his race."
Valerie answered slowly, unsettled by the nature of the ques-tion. People didn't ask questions like that anymore. Did they? "He's the son of Russian immigrants. You can't get much whiter than that. Why?"
Dr. Fletcher sighed and looked up with a weary smile. "These damned federal forms are getting nosier every year, aren't they?" "
So quickly, Valerie thought, driving along the Pacific Coast Highway. Five minutes for a test, boom-you know you're preg-nant. Then you're scheduled for an abortion. She took a deep breath, urged her yellow Porsche 914 into fourth gear, and raced through the amber light at PCH and Crenshaw. Light aircraft buzzed around Torrance Airport, dancing in the warmth of late morning. She looked out the passenger side of the car to steal quick glances at them. Small airplanes had always fascinated her, though she had never been up in one. They looked like toys, like kites, like wobbly little playthings. She always felt sad when she read or heard about one crash-ing, as if the people onboard had been punished cruelly and unjustly for wanting to have fun.
She pulled over to the side of the road to watch the planes and suddenly began to cry. " Ron Czernek listened quietly. Sitting in the corner of the liv-ing-room sofa group, he held Valerie in his muscular arms while she told him of her decision.
He was a large man, with black hair and beard trimmed for business and well-tailored suits to match. She had given him time to change into casual clothes and have a drink before telling him about her day.
"I was a little subdued when you left this morning," she said, safely wrapped inside his embrace. "I'd realized that I'd missed my period." She turned to gaze up at him. "I went to the clinic at Bayside for a test." She lowered her head, closing her eyes. "I passed. I'm pregnant." Before Ron could say anything, she added, "I can't be preg-nant. Not right now. Too much is going on with us for me to throw the brakes on and become a mother."
He nodded. Even speaking in quiet, intimate tones, his voice resonated. "You know that whatever choice you make, I'm with you all the way. It's our baby, but it's your body." He held her tighter. "You've got your job to think about. I've got mine. We haven't paid off the BMW yet." His voice caught for an instant. "I'm sure we could make it all work, anyway. I'm with you one hundred percent if you decide to. The classes, being there, everything."
Her body began to tremble against his. He quickly added, "The same goes for the... other choice. I'll be with you. The whole nine yards." He smiled and ran a hand over her golden hair. "I'm a lawyer, not a judge. I only want to help you do what you want to do."
"I love you, Ron." She pulled herself deeper into his arms. She could smell the scent of a day's work on him. The smoke from the office, the faint odor of self-serve gasoline, the aroma of her lover's flesh. He was eight years older than she, but she felt as if they were high school sweethearts. She clung to him as she did to her father so long ago. "Please go with me Thursday evening."
"Of course."
They sat together, silent.
III
Dr. Fletcher sorted through the charts kept in a fat, locking file folder on her desk. A cigarette glowed in the plastic ash-tray-a giveaway from some medical supply company whose logo in the bottom had long since been stubbed, melted, and ashed into illegibility. The cigarette itself was a Defiant, the brand with the highest dose of nicotine per milligram of tar. She had long ago decided that nicotine was the drug she sought in smoking, so logically she should get as much of it per ciga-rette as she could while minimizing the amount of other con-taminants. She had even convinced some of her chain-smok-ing colleagues to cut down from three packs a day of low-nico-tine cigarettes to her half pack of high-nic. She took occasional drags on the stick absentmindedly, giv-ing her sole attention to the papers before her. She had some-one now. Someone who matched well enough for everything to work. If she could pull this off, it would change everything. Everything. The medical advance would be almost trivial com-pared to the social revolution.