Chapter 12: Power and Responsibility

Tuesday, July 14, 2009 10:30 PM

Tricia closed the door behind her as she entered Annie’s room. Annie was still sitting in her chair, watching her roommate. “He did it,” said Tricia. “He pushed a power into me.”

“Something we both knew was going to happen eventually,” said Annie.

“I didn’t even feel it happening. I just felt like I could take on the world.” Tricia sat down on the bed and stared at the door. “I don’t know what to think right now ... I wonder what else he can do?”

“That is something we can explore tomorrow. Right now, I’m more concerned about you.”

“I’m fine, or at least, I will be by tomorrow.”

“You’re not fine, and you won’t be tomorrow. You have an unresolved issue, and you’re not talking about it.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked nervously.

“Don’t kid me Tricia. There’s more to your story, but I didn’t ask you in the car. Not in front of Joey. It’s just us girls now. Tell me about your abortion.”

Tricia spun and stared at Annie with a horrified look on her face.

“That man got you pregnant. You had an abortion, and I believe you’ve never told anyone.”

Tricia trembled. Tears formed in her eyes.

“Tricia, if you don’t talk about it, it controls you.”

“How ... how did you...”

“You’re not the first Catholic girl I’ve seen struggling with this. You keep holding your crucifix, trying to get some strength from it, But we both know that is part of the problem. The Catholic church has made its position on the subject very clear. They won’t support your decision.”

Tricia looked down at the floor in shame. She hugged her arms and shook. “I shouldn’t have...”

“What? You wanted to have his child?”

“No! But I...”

“Did you want to give this man a baby? Did you want to reward him by passing his rapist genes on to the next generation?”

“No. But I ... killed this ... I murdered this...”

“What are you talking about?” Annie scolded her. She rolled her chair in front of Tricia and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You did no such thing! You did not kill anyone. You had an INFECTION removed!”

Tricia looked up at her roommate. She was crying, and she shook her head. “It was a baby, and I had to...”

“How far were you?” Annie demanded.

Tricia shook her head. “About ... two months.”

Annie held up her hand, holding her finger and thumb apart by about a centimeter. “So they took something out of you about this big. Hardly a baby. Did you want this thing inside of you?”

“No. But it was a baby!”

“Oh! Really! Tell me Tricia! The other night, when you were telling Joey where babies come from. Did you tell him the full story? Did you tell him that when a man lusts after a woman very very much, and she doesn’t care for him but that doesn’t matter to him, and he grabs her and he beats her senseless into submission? And when she can’t fight anymore because she’s bloodied or unconscious, he invades her, shoving his filthy prick into her un-lubricated, ripping and tearing her flesh inside until he comes inside her bleeding vagina, and his unwanted sperm travels up her fallopian tubes and finds an egg, and at that MAGIC MOMENT ... the baby Jesus sends down an angel from heaven with a soul in one hand and a long rubber glove on the other. And the angel shoves her hand inside and puts that soul into that single cell, making a new baby. Is that the story you told him? Is that what you believe? Because if you believe that, then I would understand you feeling guilty.”

Tricia looked at Annie with a fuming hatred. “You can be a real bitch sometimes, Annie.”

“Yes! Yes, I am a bitch! Because I refuse to be a doormat! And I refuse to let you feel guilty for taking care of yourself, for taking control of your life! This man, this monster, he tried to steal your entire life from you, making you the mother of his child, and you made a decision to overpower him! You decided you didn’t want to reward this man with a child. You decided you didn’t want to be a mother for him. Your body, your decision.”

“But I killed...”

“Killed? So? You think this is what it’s all about? Life and death? You think it’s that clear cut? All life is good and all death is bad? You want to see me create life and kill it right now? Watch!” Annie stuck her finger in her mouth and scraped the inside of her cheek. She pulled her finger out of her mouth and held it up to Tricia. “There! I’ve created life. Here on my finger, live cells from the inside of my cheek. They are separate from my body, 100% human DNA, living cells. Just as human as that thing that was growing inside you. You want to see it die? Watch!”

She smeared her finger on her palm and slapped her palms together loudly in front of Tricia. Tricia jolted in shock. “There! Now it’s dead! Life! Death! It’s that easy! But did I just commit murder? No! Tricia, we create life and kill life every day, every moment of our lives. Our bodies make new cells, old cells die. There is very little of you that is the exact same material that was there a couple of years ago.”

“It’s not the same, Annie. You know that.”

“So what makes it different? The fact that it was growing inside a uterus instead of a mouth? The fact that it was made up of stem cells and has more potential to become a full human? These are minor technical details, and believe me this is the last century when those details will continue to have any meaning. But these cells were just as alive! What is the difference?”

“Annie! There’s a huge difference! A baby isn’t just scraped off somewhere. There’s a moment! There IS a magic moment, when sperm meets egg, and a new person is created, and endowed with a soul.”

“No there isn’t. There is no such magic moment. Sure, we know that there is a moment when sperm meets egg, but does that lead to a baby? Most of the time, no! It doesn’t. Ninety percent of the time it doesn’t. If the blastocyst doesn’t attach to the uterine wall, there is no baby. Does God put in a soul in for those cases? No? How do you know? And for that matter, how do you know if He puts them in for any case? What is a soul? I’ll tell you what a soul is. It’s an excuse! It’s something we ‘know’ exists despite the fact that it shares every possible conceivable characteristic with something that doesn’t exist. It’s invisible, weightless, silent, odorless, texture-less, tasteless, colorless, and produces no physical effects other than the fact that it tends to win arguments because some authority says it’s there and you aren’t allowed to argue with him.

“And what if the blastocyst attaches to the uterine wall, is THAT the magic moment you’re looking for? No, it can’t be, and we know that because sometimes they break into twins, sometimes before implantation and sometimes after. What happens with the soul then? Does it split? Or is another just put in? And what happens when the split blastocysts or embryos merge back together again? It happens. Are the souls merged, or is one kicked out? And what happens if there is enough genetic damage that the embryo is horribly deformed and breaks off in a spontaneous abortion, a miscarriage? Or what if it is an ectopic pregnancy and has to be removed or else it kills the mother? Was a soul ever put in the embryo in the first place?

“What if there are twins and one manages to kill the other? It happens more often than you realize. What if two eggs are fertilized and they merge into a chimera? It’s rare, but it happens. How many souls are put in and removed in the process?

“Pregnancy is a messy process, and the closer you look at it, the clearer it is to see that there is no clear-cut moment in the entire development where you can say yes, at this point, a new human is here. Instead, it is a series of ever developing chances of life and death. But here is the big secret. Anyone who tries to get you to find that magic moment inside the womb is trying to cover up the REAL magic moment when a human is created. For the real magic moment doesn’t occur inside the womb. It occurs inside the mother’s heart.”

Tricia stared at Annie. “What are you talking about?”

“‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’ This is what Thomas Jefferson wrote, and it is constantly quoted by the Pro-Life movement to argue that the moment a sperm hits an egg it immediately has the right to life. But what the Pro-Lifers completely ignore is the part about the creator of men. Who is the creator of men? You ask them, and they are arrogant enough to claim that the creator of all men is THEIR god, as described in THEIR bible, by THEIR preachers, from THEIR church, and there is to be NO argument about that. But here is the thing. They are wrong, and they know they are wrong. Their god doesn’t create people. WE WOMEN create people! I know this because we have evidence for it, and no evidence to the contrary. We are the ones who do all the work. We go through the nine months of pregnancy, twelve hours of labor, and eighteen years of parenting, so we, by every right, get to call all the shots, and I don’t fucking care what their bible says or how old it is!

“This is not about life and death. This is about human rights. What is the difference between cells from my cheek and a baby? What is the difference between an aborted embryo and a child? It’s the bestowal of human rights. And who bestows rights? ‘They are endowed by their creators with certain unalienable rights.’ We women are the creators, so we, the mothers, bestow rights. It is as much of a superpower as any other, and I would argue it is the greatest. Greater than super-strength, or flying, or shooting lasers out of your eyes. And like all super-powers, it must be used responsibly, so there are times to use it, and there are times you do NOT use it.

“This man got you pregnant, and you made a decision to NOT bestow human rights. This is your right, your power, you decision, and your authority. And anyone who tries to make you feel guilty or ashamed is trying to take that power from you.”

Tricia buried her face in her hands and shook, crying. Annie maneuvered her chair to the bed and shifted to sit next to her.

“Did you have to walk past them into the clinic?”

Tricia nodded.

“They screamed at you. Called you a murderer.”

Annie caressed Tricia’s back, comforting her. “These people, the Pro-Lifers, the ones that stand outside clinics and pretend to be brave by frightening women who are already frightened ... they are not interested in life. None of them are. They are taught hatred and ignorance, and they are being used by preachers who hate woman to cause torment. They have no respect for life. You show me a Pro-Lifer, and I will show you someone who is not a vegetarian. Or someone who owns a handgun for the odd chance that if someone breaks into their house to steal their stereo they can shoot him between the eyes. Or someone who believes in capital punishment so strongly, they don’t care if hundreds of innocents are killed. Or someone who thinks the proper response to the deaths of three thousand Americans at the hands of fifteen Saudi Arabians, two Arab Emirates, one Egyptian, and one Lebanese is to kill anywhere between a hundred thousand and a million Iraqis and over four thousand American soldiers. Or someone who cheers at the murder of a doctor. Or someone who would rather have forty-five thousand Americans die from lack of health insurance every year rather than set up a national health care system because they are terrified of waiting in lines. They are not Pro-Life. They are anti-woman.”

Tricia leaned over and laid her head in Annie’s lap. She shook in silent crying. Annie caressed her head.

“Do you know what these people are most angry about? They are angry because they know they are wrong. And they will never admit it to themselves. Deep down, each one knows it is the woman’s decision. Take any Pro-Lifer and point them at a woman and say ‘See that woman over there. She may be pregnant, and she doesn’t want a child. What are you going to do?’ And do you know what their answer always is? It’s always ‘I’m going to go talk to her and get her to change her mind.’ See? That is the first response of someone who knows it is the woman’s decision. Their first thought is to change her decision, to work with it. If they truly believed the woman had no decision in the matter, their first thought would have nothing to do with her decision, and it would be ‘I’m going to go knock her unconscious, drag her into my basement, force her to piss on a pregnancy test at gunpoint, and if she’s pregnant, I’ll chain her up until she gives birth.’

“You and I, Tricia ... We’re sisters, part of the last generation of women who are the sole domain of the uterus. Do you know what’s going to happen in the next hundred years in biotechnology? We’re going to figure out how to make an artificial uterus, and do human cloning. And that’s going to change everything. The day is going to come when anyone can walk into a Wal-mart and buy an EZ Bake oven and put a DNA sample in, and it will convert it to stem cells and grow them into a baby. And do you know what is going to happen then? Some woman, some soon to be very famous woman, will get a hold of the DNA of some man whom she hates, and she will clone ten babies of him, and leave them on his doorstep with a note saying ‘Your DNA. Your babies. Your responsibility.’ And do you know how men across the world will react to that? They will be outraged, they will demand to be protected. They’ll say ‘How dare you use me to create life that I didn’t want!’ And on that day, men will finally understand what it is we women have been talking about for thousands of years, that when you make the decision to create life, you have the responsibility to take care of it, and raise it properly. So, conversely, if you have the responsibility to take care of a new life and raise it, you also get the power to decide to do this or not.”

Annie continued to caress Tricia’s head. “So if you want to feel sad about remembering how you were hurt, that’s fine. If you want to cry because of what they yelled at you, or the difficult decision you were forced to make, I’m here for you. But don’t you feel guilty for taking control of your life. Not on my watch.”

Tricia started shaking, crying. “I couldn’t ... I couldn’t tell my mom ... She never found out...”

“I know.”

“I still can’t tell my dad...”

“I’m sure he loves you more than you realize.”

Tricia sobbed in Annie’s lap.

“MURDERER!” “HOW CAN YOU KILL YOUR BABY?” “PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE!” “THEY ARE GOING TO LIE TO YOU!” “WE SHOULD GIVE THE BABIES SCALPELS SO THEY CAN FIGHT BACK!” “HOLOCAUST!” “THEY ARE GOING TO KILL YOU IN THERE!” “THEY ARE GOING TO CHOP UP YOUR BABY AND SELL THE PIECES ON THE BLACK MARKET!”

Tricia looked down from the train window and saw her younger self struggling to get past the crowd of protesters outside the clinic. They were screaming, insulting, and carrying disgusting pictures. They outnumbered the escorts by scores. It was the worst possible timing. Her appointment was on the anniversary week of the Roe Vs. Wade decision, and the protesters had been bussed in by the hundreds.

She shuddered and watched herself fight her way through the crowd, protected on all sides by four volunteers. She leaned her head against the cold glass window.

“I hated that day,” said someone next to her.

Tricia looked up and saw the person who spoke. It was herself, another Tricia. “¡Hola, mi hermana!” her doppelganger said.

“Am I dreaming?” Tricia asked.

“Oh great!” the other Tricia said. “And here I thought I was the one dreaming.”

Tricia looked back out the window at the screaming crowd and the struggling and crying woman. “This is a nightmare,” she said.

The other Tricia shrugged. “Probably. But I agree with Annie. Nightmares are good.”

Tricia looked at her other with confusion. “What?”

“You remember,” the other Tricia said. “After Joey had his nightmare.”

The screaming from the other bedroom woke her up. It was Joey, and Tricia could hear him yelling and howling across the hall. Dressed only in a T-shirt and panties, she bolted out of bed and ran to the door.

“What’s happening?” asked Annie as she quickly pushed herself up.

“It’s Joey!” Tricia ran out the room and saw a flickering yellow light coming from underneath her bedroom door. Fire! she thought, and she burst through the door.

Nothing was on fire, but Joey was on the bed screaming and thrashing, and fountains of sparks flooded from both of his hands. “NO!!! NO!!” he shouted. Tricia could see his eyes were glowing under his lids.

“Joey! Wake up!” Tricia ran to the bed and grabbed him. She shook him, trying to wake him.

“DON’T!!” he screamed in his sleep.

“Wake up Joey! Please!” She grabbed his arms.

“NOOO!!”

Joey suddenly grabbed Tricia’s bare arms and something flooded into her. It was a fire, an energy essence that slipped in through her arms and quickly filled every inch of her body. Her stomach twisted and flipped, and her feet slipped off the floor. She screamed and she found herself falling as the entire room spun around upside down. As she fell back, she dragged Joey’s body out of the bed with her, and her back hit the smooth plaster floor. Tricia suddenly realized that she hadn’t fallen down; she had fallen UP onto the ceiling, and was dragging Joey out of bed with her.

Her body was getting very cold. Frost formed along her arms and fingers, over her chest, and down her legs. She could see her breath. A thin layer of ice started to build along her arms.

“JOEY!!!” she screamed.

Joey’s eyes opened wide. They glowed bright yellow, and then, suddenly, the light disappeared.

“Tricia?” he said. His face was a mask of terror.

The essence vanished inside her, and Tricia suddenly fell on top of the boy, landing hard on the bed. “OOF!” Her heavy breasts smashed hard into his face as she landed, smothering the boy. She quickly scrambled off of him, saw the ice on her arms, and broke it off. Joey shuddered, gasped, and sobbed.

“It’s okay, Joey. It’s all right!” she said, and ignoring the melting ice and frost on her body and the bed, she pulled the crying boy up into her arms. “It was just a dream. That’s all.” She cradled him to her bosom.

“He ... he was ... on fire...” he sobbed.

“I know. It’s okay now.” She rocked him in her arms.

“I tried to ... I couldn’t reach him...”

Tricia caressed his head. “It’s all right. You’re okay. It was just a bad dream.”

Joey was still crying in her arms as Annie rolled into the room. “What happened?”