Third Time’s a Charm
by J Torber
copyright 1994
Ulric smiled triumphantly as the wind blew his hair around his face. Thoroughly stoned, the highway seemed to be devoured by his orange 1978 Volkswagen Rabbit at an almost frightening pace. He was reassured to see his house resting comfortably where he had left it earlier that day. He pulled into the driveway, bringing the car to a screeching halt.
Nancy sighed. “Honey, we have to talk.”
Startled by the shock of realizing his wife was with him, he didn’t hear her. ”Do what, darlin’?” he asked delicately.
“Honey, we have to talk.”
“Talk” was something with which Ulric was familiar–meaning either something about their relationship was askew or she was having another mini-crisis. He sometimes thought her need for pity caused her to embellish childhood events to the extent they became horrific tragedies. He had noticed that when attempting to explain her actions regarding an event where she had acted in a manner not befitting her moral code, she would sometimes recount a dreadful childhood tale of pain. The only other time they had needed talk was when she had asked him if would like to marry her.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
She moaned, squinting her eyes. Now he knew something new and awful had happened. He had never seen this kind of reaction. Half a minute passed. He stared out his window blankly. Nancy breathed slowly and deeply, staring at her feet, catching her breath.
She broke the silence with, “I’m pregnant.”
He nearly lost consciousness. “Nancy,” he strained to ask, “did you say you were… pregnant?”
Nancy could tell that Ulric was holding his breath because his face was turning red. She held his hand with both of hers. She stroked his arm gently until he exhaled. “Ulric,” she said slowly and evenly, “I love you. We will always love each other no matter what. We will handle our pregnancy together.”
He tensed up, unconsciously twisting himself toward the door: his right leg fully outstretched to the corner of the floorboard, his left knee tucked to his chest, free hand gripping the shoulder belt tightly. His eyes darted erratically. Some spittle may have been foaming at the corner of his mouth.
“Honey,” Nancy said encouragingly, “tomorrow we will see a doctor.”
— — —
Ulric couldn’t figure out how had fucked up. He had waited until finishing three years of graduate school and securing a teaching job before even considering marriage. He had married a woman with a good job, a strong mind and a hot body. He had assumed she was still on birth control. Everything had been so perfect.
Semmes, Alabama was not the best place in the world to live, but it was small and quiet. They got on the interstate and drove half an hour to Mobile. Because of the traffic and pollution he really did not like traveling to Mobile, but it was the only place within two hours with an abortion clinic. Nancy had suggested going to a family planning center run by a local Souther Baptist church, but he would hear none of it. There was no way he was risking a child.
He turned down a street that Nancy knew only as a short cut to the mall. He drove confidently over a bridge, slowing down to turn. Four people walked along the sidewalk outside the Women’s Health Clinic, carrying homehade signs with blown-up pictures of aborted fetuses. Ulric parked the car as close as possible to the parking lot exit.
He stepped out of the car and was immediately accosted by one of the protesters. She was screaming at him about the immorality of abortion and how he was going to swim the fiery waters of Hell for all eternity if he didn’t get back in his car and drive away. Ulric asked if she would “swallow to stop an abortion” as he walked to the other side of the car to open Nancy’s door. He held her hand as they walked to the clinic entrance.
There were three men standing around the entrance of the clinic. One was a skinhead-looking security guard. Another might have been a Baptist preacher, tall and heavy, wiping sweat from his from his forehead. The other man was a short and skinny with a T-shirt proclaiming, “A baby by choice is a healthy baby.” The security guard opened the door for the couple. The other two men standing at the door smiled and nodded.
Ulric seated himself in the waiting room with sky-blue wallpaper while Nancy went to the front desk to retrieve the paperwork they would have to fill out. They waited for nearly an hour before the nurse called their last name, “Camp.” Nancy arose, taking Ulric by the hand with her, but they made him wait in the waiting room. Left alone with his thoughts, he questioned his reasoning, degraded himself, appraised his logic, felt sure of himelf. Then the cycle of doubt would begin again. This continued until half an hour later when a nurse asked him to follow her.
He was taken to a clean white room with expensive equipment. A hospital bed had Nancy in it. He kissed her forehead, telling her everything was going be just fine.
“They were going to start looking at the… the… the thing inside me.”
He wiped a tear from her eye.
“I asked them to turn my bed away from the screen,” she said wearily, “so I wouldn’t have to see it. I wouldn’t let them start until you were here.”
The doctor seemed to come from nowhere. “Hello,” he said jovially, “my name is Dr. Barthol. Were were just about to begin the ultrasound when you arrived, Mr. Camp. Your wife has expressed your collective interest in an abortion. By using the ultrasound we will be able to determine exactly how old the fetus is. If it is within the first trimester we can begin the procedure this afternoon. I hope that both of you received one of our informative abortion pamphlets this morning while you waited.” They nodded. “Well, then,” the doctor said, almost jubilantly, “let’s begin.”
Ulric closely watched everything that happened over the next few minutes but did not understand any of the doctor’s movements except when he pressed the “ON” switch of the monitor. The doctor checked dials and monitored guages, glancing up from his work now and then to view the screen. He appeared to be competely withdrawn in concentration. “The fetus is within nine and ten weeks old,” the doctor said dryly as he watched the screen.
Then the doctor paused for a moment while his face went blank. He turned slowly from the screen and made eye contact with Ulric.
“Mr. Camp,” the doctor said, “I believe your wife is carrying the christ-child.”
Nancy screamed.
— — —
The doctor left Nancy and Ulric alone to make their decision.
The change of events deeply troubled Nancy. She had never expected she would hae to abort Jesus. Ulric was set on going through with the abortion, christ fetus or not.
“Ulric,” Nancy whined, “we can’t go through with this.”
“Nancy,” Ulric said firmly, “we have no choice. We cannot afford a child. You have only been working for a few months. Would you be given paid time off for pregnancy? Would I be able to make enough money to comfortable support us? We still owe money on college loans. We have a mortgage payment already. Next month we’re still going buy that new Camry, aren’t we?”
Nancy wanted a new car very badly. She hated driving around with her husband in his crappy 4-speed Volkswagen. “Yes, of course we will still buy the car.”
And what about a baby-sitter?” Ulric asked. “We moved here to avoid family and friends in Mobile. It would cost a fortune to pay a baby-sitter for every hour both of us are at work.”
Nancy knew there was no point in arguing with her husband. He always made more sense than she did. Besides, she really wanted a new car. “Okay, honey.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I love you, darlin’. You and me, forever. Okay?”
“Okay,” Nancy said with adoration, “my prince.”
He kissed her again and left the room to tell the doctor their decision.
— — —
Ulric sat outside with the three gentleman he had seen at the entrance earlier. He learned that the big man, Clarence, was actually a minister of the Chruch of Free Thought in Atlanta. He had relocated to Mobile for a few months to help out the clinic. The skinny guy, Randy was homosexual with AIDS. He worked for the clinic as an escort. He wanted to spend his final years fighting for the things he believed in, like giving speeches on AIDS awareness. The security guard, Paul, smiled often but said little.
There were still three women and a man carrying signs and reading the Bible on the sidewalk in front of the clinic.
He bummed a cigarette from Randy. He watched as Clarence and Randy yelled blasphemous remarks to the four protesters. They looked so gloomy and pitiful that he almost felt sorry for the protesters, until he remember the way the lady had verbally attacked him as soon as he had gotten out of his car and how good and right it had felt to personally insult her.
Clarence sat down beside Ulric. “Whew,” he said, “sure is a scorcher.” He dabbed sweat from his forehead.
“Sure is,” Ulric responed.
“Has anyone shown you the pictures my wife took?”
“No, sir.”
“Have a look-see.”
Each picture was a scene of some part of the clinic. One such scene showed a bullet-hole in the window near the door where Ulric sat.
“Yeah,” Clarence said, noticing Ulric’s gaping mouth, “we fixed the window last Wednesday. We haven’t been able to arrest anyone for it, but I’m pretty damn sure that it was that guy out there walking in front of your car.”
“They shoot at this place?” Ulric asked.
“They shoot at me,” Clarence stated.
Ulric handed Clarence back the pictures. “That’s horrible.”
About an hour later a nurse came to the door and told Ulric to pull his car closer to the entrance so that it would be easier for his wife to get into it. The security guard and Randy helped Nancy to the car. As he turned the car around to pull out of the lot, a protester’s sign was thrust against the windshield, momentarily blocking his field of vision. The sign simply stated, “Baby Killer!”
If they only knew.
Posted by Modus Operandi 
