SHORT STORY TIME: "Then Augusta it is"

Dana hit the button on the right side of her cell phone. “8:03 am.” She rolled her eyes.

“Twelve more minutes,” she thought as she skimmed the magazine rack once more. Neither the Redbook nor the ever so juicy Cosmopolitan sparked her interest. Somehow not even the “100 Best Ways to Please Your Man” could comfort her now. In fact, isn’t that how she got into this predicament in the first place?

“Wallace, Dana Wallace!” The receptionist yelled from behind the sliding glass window.

Dana’s heart sank as she grabbed her pseudo designer bag. “Oh shit,” she thought.

“Miss Wallace, it seems that you skipped a few important places as you were filling out your paperwork. We can’t go through with the procedure without all of the necessary information. Please read through the material again and fill out the key information that you may have overlooked and return the paperwork with the clipboard back to me when you’re finished.” The fake smile on the receptionist’s face indicated that she was as enthusiastic about her job as Dana was to be in her place of work that morning.

Dana nodded with embarrassment and took the clipboard back to her original seat, which was now beside another female whose nervousness was written all over her face. Dana was tempted to start a conversation with the seemingly younger pale female with glossy almond shaped green eyes, but refrained from doing so. The longer it took her to finish the paperwork she had unfinished, the longer it would take Dana to get out of the cold office that smelled of latex and rubbing alcohol.

“Do you think we will regret this later?” A fragile whisper interrupted Dana’s reading and initialing.

Dana turned to the frail brunette sitting next to her, made eye contact, and whispered back, “I don’t know. I hope not…but, I don’t know.”

Dana went back to initialing, but was immediately distracted by the brunette’s trembling. In her peripheral vision, Dana noticed a tear slowly trail down the cheek of the girl sitting next to her. Was it a tear of disappointment or fear, because it definitely wasn’t a representative of the joy and freedom that Dana had convinced herself that the outcome of her decision would give her. With this thought, Dana dropped the black ball point pen that read “Women’s Health Clinic” in gold and began to recollect the events of the past couple of months as she bent over to pick it up from the blue tile floor.

His 35 year-old wisdom and candor reeled her in from the second she uttered the words, “Good evening, I’m Dana and I will be your server this evening. Can I start you off with something to drink, sir?”

He occupied the table in her section that busy autumn Monday night until her shift was over and followed Dana out to her car.

“I’m Paul and forgive me for being frank, but would you like to go to Sparky’s Pub and grab a beer, Dana?” He asked.

Although Dana had an exam first thing the following morning and she had yet to begin to study, her eagerness to know Paul outweighed her need to study; and without appearing to be too anxious, Dana followed Paul’s silver 1997 BMW 528i a few blocks down the road to Sparky’s.

The chemistry between 22 year-old Dana and Paul was nearly unbelievable. The 13 year age difference didn’t seem to influence too much of the two lust birds’ conversation that night; however, when the conversation was more one-sided, how could age influence it?

Dana hung onto Paul’s every word as he talked about his college days, the road he took to owning a successful marketing company in the area, and his views on the nationwide political system. He even ranted on the issues he was having with his soon-to-be ex-wife and how she was trying to drain him dry financially with her alimony and child support proposals. According to Dana’s thoughts, her life was juvenile compared to Paul’s. The dilemmas that she faced surrounding her crazy Ethics professor and her greedy boss seemed so trivial. Paul’s life experience and his level of confidence without being cocky made him unbelievably sexy to Dana. Before parting ways that night, the two had exchanged numbers and made plans for a dinner date midweek.

Clipboard still in hand, Dana recalled the night she conceived very vividly, because it was the only time that she and Paul were ever intimate. As Dana was lying tensely on Paul’s bed at his will, thoughts ran rapidly through her head. “What if I’m boring?” “What if I do something wrong?” “What if it’s not good?” She was far more nervous with him than she was the moment she lost her virginity at age 15.

Paul slowly undressed Dana as she lay on her back on his bed. As she felt her clothing being removed piece by piece from her body, Dana skimmed Paul’s bookshelf in search of something to redirect her thoughts. She skimmed and skimmed until she found familiar titles to distract her. Inferno by Dante and a copy of the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe sat upon his shelf. Mentally turned on, Dana loosened up and dove in.

Although the two kept in touch via saucy text messages and heated late night phone calls, the following few weeks were eventful for both Dana and Paul individually. Dana was finishing up her semester by completing final semester projects along with taking her exams. On the other end, Paul was spending a lot of time in mediation with his wife trying to civilly work out the kinks of their divorce settlement. Both Dana and Paul missed each other very much, but were both empathetic to the other’s demanding schedule.

In the midst of exams, Dana spent around two whole weeks fighting nausea and extreme migraines. It was only when she had realized that she had missed her period that she grew concerned. She called Paul and demanded to meet for dinner at her place at his earliest convenience.

With the positive test in hand, Paul slung his beer at the wall and sat at Dana’s dining room table with his head in his hands.

“You better do something about this, Dana!” Paul screamed.

“What the hell am I supposed to do about this? I am as equally as angry as you are.” She replied more calmly than he.

“I already have a family. I don’t need another one.” Paul stood up and began to pace through the kitchen.

Dana sat there numb to the conversation. She couldn’t feel a thing. She wanted to cry. She wanted to be mad. She would even settle for being happy, but she felt nothing.

“My wife and I are going to try and work it out, Dana. I’m sorry.” Paul mumbled as he opened his checkbook and slammed a blank check in front of Dana’s plate of chicken tortellini.

“Take what you need to cover the procedure.” Paul grabbed his keys and walked out.

This led her here. Numbed and somewhat forced, Dana placed the top back on the pen and waltzed slowly to give the now finished paperwork back to the receptionist.

A nurse walked into the lobby, “Jones, Candice Jones.”

The brunette from beside Dana glanced at her, wiped her tears away and walked toward the nurse. Dana watched in pity as the door shut behind Candice and the nurse.

It was in that moment that Dana began to feel. She was scared, reluctant, and incredibly distressed. No one knew about her pregnancy but her and Paul. Her family was oblivious; so were her friends. There was no way that she would live with her conscience if she went through with an abortion; however, she knew that she would lack support if she decided to keep the baby. Her family would be so disappointed in her and Paul would deny paternity or try to buy her off so his reputation wouldn’t be ruined.

She checked her cell phone again. It read “8:12 am.”

Dana picked up her bag and her jacket and walked out of the clinic and down to the bus stop just in time to catch the city bus headed downtown.

“Enjoy your weekend!” Shouted the bus driver as Dana pushed through the crowd to get off at a bus stop a few blocks from her destination.

Dana nodded and began to walk quickly toward the train station.

Dana was never the impulsive type, but she felt as if she needed an immediate change. She marched into the train station, walked up to the ticket booth and emptied her wallet.

“How far will this get me?” Dana asked a gray haired man behind the glass.

“Where ya lookin’ to go , little lady?” He asked.

“Ummm…” She scratched her head, “…south, as far south as this will take me.”

“This here will get ya as far as Augusta, Georgia.” The man replied as he counted every cent Dana had thrown at him.

Dana was finally at peace. “Then Augusta it is.”