The Opportunist

“Don’t worry, he explained to me about your…inclinations…” The word ‘inclinations’ rolled off of her tongue like a well sucked lifesaver. It dropped in the middle of us, shouting its scary implications at me… “that you’re g*y,” she buffered, smiling, “any woman that turns Caleb down has to either be a lesbian or crazy. See you Saturday.”

Touché.

I shuffled back to my room in a daze, considering two options.

One. Caleb, decided the only reason I could reject him was because I was g*y. Two. Caleb tells everyone I am a lesbian as revenge for blowing him off. Either way, I was going to have to air my sexuality to clear things up.

Chapter Seven

The Past

I drove a somber Jessica to the clinic Saturday morning as scheduled. The day was fittingly dreary and she stared out of the window for most of the ride, making an occasional comment about a store we passed or a restaurant Caleb had taken her to. I was wondering if she was capable of talking about anything else other than Caleb when she pointed to a billboard for Calvin Klein and said that Caleb was so much hotter than the guy modeling the underwear. I pictured him in his boxers kicking around in the pool and suddenly got lightheaded. He was. Filthy, girlfriend impregnating, scumbag.

The clinic was posh, definitely not one of those shady, inner-city places that is tucked away in a storefront. This was where rich girls came to wipe away their indiscretions…Boca Raton style.

The waiting room was stuffed with oversized furniture and framed art. I chose a seat in the far corner and stared intensely at a macramé plant holder while Jessica spoke with the receptionist. She came to sit next to me while she filled out a mound of forms. The scratching of pen on paper was the only sound in the room. Before the nurse took her to the back, she looked over at me with saucer eyes and said…

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

A nerve in my eyebrow started twitching. I was simply the driver. I didn’t want to be her conscience coach. If I told her ‘no’ we would walk right out of here, she was looking for a reason to leave, and if I told her ‘yes’…well…it made me an accomplice.

I thought of Caleb. He would do the right thing and marry her if she kept the baby. They would probably be divorced within five years. Broken home, broken hearts…me without him. I swallowed hard.

“Absolutely, yes,” I said nodding.

She smiled brightly and grabbed my hand.

“Thank you, Olivia.” she said squeezing. I pulled my fingers gently away and tucked my hands beneath my purse.

Ohmygosh,ohmygosh,ohmygosh!

She stood to leave and I had the urge to snatch her by the hand and run for the car. What was I doing? I could change her mind! She took one step, two, and the moment for goodness passed, kidnapping my conscience as it went. The nurse led Jessica through a set of double doors and then she was gone. I felt sick—like all the blood in my veins had turned to vinegar. What had I done? And for what? Him? Did I really plan on using this information to get what I wanted? I rocked back and forth my arms wrapped around my belly.

“Are you okay?” the receptionist asked, peering around the slab of frosted glass she sat behind.

“Something I ate,” I said. She nodded like she understood and pointed me in the direction of the bathroom. I hid in the handicap stall for thirty minutes with my back pressed against the door, convincing my bruised conscience that it was all her choice and I had nothing to do with it. When enough time passed I slipped back into the waiting room and took a seat.

I flipped through a couple of magazines and bit away at my nails. One other girl arrived during my tortured time there. She looked to be about sixteen and was escorted by her mother who was hiding behind a pair of dark glasses. The mother hurried over to the window while her daughter slouched down in a chair and began texting on her phone, her thumbs moving like fast machinery over her keypad. I pulled my eyes away. My mother would have made me keep it. I remember her telling me, “I’ll be damned if a daughter of mine walks away from her responsibility. Do it once and you’ll do it for the rest of your life.” I really missed my mother. Maybe if she were alive, I wouldn’t be so rotten.

A nurse approached me an hour later, bending down to say something in those hushed tones that everyone kept using. If we speak softly perhaps we won’t draw attention to what is really happening here.

“Jessica is ready. You can pull your car around the back to pick her up.”

I flinched. They were sending her away through the rear of the building. Sneaky, like she was bad trash. I rushed out and hopped in my car glad to be rid of the place. A nurse was standing behind Jessica’s wheelchair, her hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Jessica was pale as a peeled potato. She smiled when I pulled up—a sort of relieved smile that made me uncomfortable. I jumped out of the car and hurried to open the passenger side door.

“She is to do no heavy lifting and no exercising for a week,” the nurse informed me. I nodded.

“Are you okay?” I asked her as she slid from the chair into my front seat.

She nodded weakly.

I pulled away from the curb with anxiety aggravating my belly.

I had accomplished what I set out to do, and now I needed to get Jessica as far away from me as possible. She made me feel guilt, a luxury I couldn’t afford while trying to steal Caleb.

I put the radio on as we eased onto the highway. Jessica spent most of the ride home gazing again out of the window. A part of me wanted to ask what she was feeling, if she was sad or relieved. But the part of me that wanted Caleb, kept my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth. This was business, I reminded myself. I wasn’t here to make a friend.

When the grey rooftops of the campus came into view, we both breathed a sigh of relief. I parked my car in front of the building and jumped out to open her door.

“Do you need me to help you to your room?”

She shook her head “no” and winced as I helped her from her seat. She was pale and her usually full lips looked limp and timid beneath her running nose. Not the Jessica Alexander that was featured in the school paper less than two months ago. Even her hair was dull and lifeless, hanging in greasy chunks around her face.

She hugged me before shuffling off toward the elevators. I watched her jab at the button, leaning limply against the wall, hugging her arms around her torso. When the elevator finally arrived, she turned one last time to wave weakly at me before climbing in and disappearing behind the doors. I slumped against my car suddenly feeling exhausted. I decided not to go back to my room. Cammie would be there and when it came to me, she was terribly perceptive. I drove, instead, to a breakfast place a few miles away and seated myself at the bar with a newspaper someone had left discarded outside.