"For Better or Worse" - A Short Story

Tyler Chan

February 21, 2014

“For Better or Worse”

Abortion had never been a term to spark much emotion from Rich. He was not a religious man, nor was he particularly impassioned by any political agenda.  He’d heard the arguments, seen the hostility the subject aroused, and quite frankly didn’t care one way or the other.  His beliefs were his own, and with that he was satisfied.

Rich was glad to have found a woman who shared this apathetic disposition—something he found unbearably absent during his years at a conservative university.  Kat had come from a Catholic background. Her family—especially her mother—was deeply involved in the local parish and she had been too by default. However, as she aged through her teens and into her twenties, Kat’s justification for missing Sunday mass gradually evolved from “I’m too tired” to “I’m hungover” until finally reaching “I just don’t believe any of this.”  So by the time they’d met, Kat and Rich were perfectly and happily compatible on that front.

They had begun dating in the summer of 2010, when Rich was home from school. Mutual friends had introduced them and everything proceeded in a fairly conventional manner. They went on a few dates—movies, dinners, parties—all of which were almost certain to result in more intimate contact than originally anticipated, and by August they were officially “together.”

Kat was perfect for Rich, and he knew it. Her long kinky blonde hair was perfectly uncontrolled. Her light green eyes were stunning and vivid against the black eyeliner that surrounded them. Her makeup was always done flawlessly—something she took a lot of pride in.  Sometimes Rich would go into the small Italian restaurant where she worked, sit at a booth, and just watch her smile and radiate as she glided across the room with a tray full of hot lasagna and fried calamari. He would watch the men she served, knowing that they must feel the same way he’d felt the first time they met—enamored by her beauty and personability. Then when they’d leave a twenty-dollar tip on a thirty-dollar check, she’d hold it up towards his booth and do an inconspicuous little dance. He would just laugh and shake his head, but not in disbelief—it never surprised him.  But it wasn’t her refined appearance that held Rich’s attraction all the years they spent together.

Rich was infatuated with her sense of humor.  Despite her refined appearance, Kat’s mind was as unfiltered as it was unoffendable. Rich’s humor was dark and insensitive to most, so her receptiveness to jokes about baby Jesus and Anne Frank was liberating to say the least. He was free to be open with his off-color jokes and Kat responded in kind. The first flowers she ever received from him were left on her windshield while she was working with a bit of a cold. They were handpicked and accompanied by a note that read:

Roses are red and sweet like a sucker,

Stop working so hard and get well motherfucker.

To which she cheekily replied by text:

I’ll work if I want, stop being a perve.

Leave me alone, I’ve got pizzas to serve.

Kat was still in school, and she had a long way to go. Rich had graduated a year and a half into their relationship. She’d been at the same community college for four years and was applying to transfer to a university the following fall to study psychology. She loved learning of all kinds, though her reckless enrollment in any course from Drawing 1A and African American Culture to Astronomy 100 and Volleyball was, in Rich’s mind, no doubt the culprit for her prolonged academic career.

“If you just took the classes you needed, you’d be done already,” Rich told her one Friday afternoon as the two were driving to San Diego for the weekend. “You wouldn’t be stuck there like you are.”

“I know. I am taking those classes. I just take a lot of electives,” She reasoned.

Rich wasn’t sold on her argument for a second. “But you take electives instead of the ones you need and that makes this whole thing take so much longer.”

“Well, what’s the rush? Can’t I just learn what I want to learn? Why does it matter how long it takes?” she replied with a playful smile.

“’Cause it costs money. And don’t you want to be done with school already and, you know, start your life?” Rich was treading softly. He knew her enthusiasm for aimless education of all things was a sensitive subject.

“Well, why don’t you marry me already and we can.” She said in a trivial manner.

Rich didn’t miss a beat. There weren’t many subjects that, after all their sadistic joking, still had the power to break his concentration, and marriage wasn’t even close. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not doing shit until you finish school.”

Kat rolled her eyes. “Ugh, why? That’s not for like three more years! Come on already. Just propose!”

“No way! How am I suppose to go to your parents like ‘Hey guys, so like I know Kat is still in school and everything, and I’m still looking for a job, and Kat’s still selling spaghetti and whoring herself out to customers for tips—“

“Fuck off! I make more money than you!” she said in playful argument. Though it was true, she did make more money than him at the time.

“Whatever,” Rich answered back, rolling his eyes, “Once I find a job I’ll be ballin’ out of control. Sippin’ Dom P with my cereal and shit.” He mimicked a gang sign with the hand that wasn’t steering, though it more closely resembled a gesture rudely imitating someone with mental disabilities.

“Good, then you can afford to buy my ring. Yellow diamond, princess cut,” she said holding her left hand up and flicking her ring finger up and down, trying to draw his attention from the road.

“Oh, yeah?” He said sarcastically, “Well like I said, finish school and maybe if you’re good we can work something out. But you’re buying your own ring.”

Kat laughed and responded with a “Fuck you”

No love was ever lost between them, and nothing was off limits, especially “pregnancy termination,” much to the dismay of their friends. It was common practice for Kat, when talking about children and pregnancies, to lift up her shirt and start beating her stomach with her fists. “Just in case,” she would say to the appalled expressions of her friends, “You never now!” Rich would laugh hysterically, though rarely did anyone else share his amusement.

It wasn’t until one October night, when Kat was two weeks late, that Rich began to feel a little apprehensive about the subject. They had been through three years of deranged abortion jokes and finally arrived at their first pregnancy “scare”.  It wasn’t supposed to be scary—not to them—but it was.

They stumbled through the instructions and after a couple forcefully drunk bottles of Dasani water Kat headed to the master bathroom of Rich’s apartment to take the pregnancy test. 

“Well…” she called down the hall to Rich who was seated anxiously on the couch, fiddling with his phone.

He flung himself off the couch and jogged down the hall to the master bathroom. He was growing more and more nervous. He couldn’t fathom the turmoil their lives would be in if they were to have a child. They weren’t ready. They couldn’t afford it. They didn’t want children. Everything they’d envisioned for their future was now in jeopardy. Until now, this had always just been a “Wouldn’t that be crazy” scenario. Now it was becoming real.

When Rich reached the bathroom, Kat was standing in the doorway. She looked shaken and fragile. Rich’s heart sunk. He’d never seen her so broken.  She stood there teary-eyed trying desperately to muster something resembling a smile to inject some ease and humor into the situation but her trembling mouth wouldn’t allow it.  It was unbearable for Rich to see her like that. He wanted so much to see the vivacious, carefree girl he’d fallen in love with, but she couldn’t even fake it. She looked depleted, like all her cheer and exuberance had run out.

They went to the clinic the following morning. Their minds were unchanged about what needed to be done. Rich felt numb about the situation. It felt like everything was a bit quieter, a bit slower, and a bit more detached from reality. But he was a realist. He knew that they were in no financial or psychological position to care for a child.  He also knew that he wanted more than anything to have a happy life with Kat.  He wanted to marry her, and maybe eventually start a family. But this was all too soon, and the health of their relationship was not something he was willing to jeopardize.

Rich sat nervously as Kat filled out the packet of paperwork in the waiting room.  He found it strange that he was so nervous, having trivialized the process of “pregnancy termination” for so long. But after seeing Kat’s reaction to the pregnancy test, he had a slightly different outlook.

“Kat? Kat?” the nurse repeated, leaning on the knob of the half open door.

The couple simultaneously snapped out of their daze. Kat grabbed her purse and got up. Rich put his hands on the arm rests of the chair as if about to push himself up, but waited for the nurse to wave him in, which she did.

“Do you want to know anything about the baby?” the technician with the probe still between Kat’s awkwardly parted legs. A vaginal ultrasound was something unheard of to Kat and Rich until that morning, and neither were excited about it.

“Nooo,” Kat answered with a laugh shaking her head, “not at all.” She tried to stay upbeat about the situation as best she could, and these little nuances helped ease the tension, if only for a moment.

Rich, who was sitting in a chair next to her, was relieved by her response. He gave a dismissing laugh, as if a homeless man had just offered them heroin, and said, “Yeah, I think we’re okay.”

“Do you want to know if its twins?” the tech asked. Rich’s heart skipped a beat, feeling as though the question implied the answer.

“I mean, I guess. I don’t know. Does it matter?” Kat said, appealing to Rich. He shrugged, not wanting to encroach on the rights of the “mother”. “Sure”, she concluded, her female curiousity getting the best of her.

“Okay,” the tech said spinning the monitor around, “Well, you are having twins. There’s one sac here, and the other right here.” She pointed them out with a pen on the screen.

Rich was annoyed by the technician’s wording. If they didn’t want to know anything, why would she even propose such a self-answering question? She wasn’t making it any easier. He looked at Kat, who looked surprised but merely out of amusement and disbelief. She had the slightest hint of a smile but her eyes indicated that this new information felt like another turn in the knife.

After a short pause, the technician continued, “If you need some time to think about it, we can do the medical abortion up to four weeks from now. After that, you’ll have to do the in-clinic procedure.”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Kat answered quickly.

Rich was once again relieved.  If anything it felt to each of them like an even greater crisis had been averted.

The technician finished her work, withdrew the instruments, and stood up from her swiveling chair. “Okay the doctor will be in in a few minutes. She’ll walk you through all the steps. You’ll take the Mifepristone here, then you’ll have Misoprostol to take at home tomorrow. She’ll explain everything,” she said before heading towards the door. She flipped the lights on, pulled the door open and just before shutting it behind her, raised the folder in her hand as a quick wave goodbye and said, “Good luck” She smiled and shut the door.

---

Rich struggled to come to terms with being alone, but he was managing in every way he knew how.  Cigarettes numbed his anxiety, long work hours distracted him from depression, and a new Sig Sauer P226 pistol and a nearby shooting range cooled his anger.  His methods were bordering on unhealthy—and he knew it—but he naively ignored the matter thinking he was too mentally strong to lose control of the artificial normalcy he was creating.

Rich worked every day designing marketing campaigns for small businesses—usually used car lots or local veterinarians.  Most of his free time at night was spent preparing the next day’s work. On weekends, he would prepare for the next week’s work. Eventually “free time” melded with work time, before almost disappearing entirely.

It had been almost a year since Kat passed away. The day after going to the clinic, a painful red rash began expanding up her lower stomach.  Rich called the clinic immediately and, at their advising, drove her to the emergency room immediately where he would last see her being wheeled through swinging doors on a gurney. Complications from her abortion medication had led to a bacterial infection that ended her life along with any others she was carrying. She was dead 22 hours after the abortion.

Three months after Kat’s passing, Rich was promoted to Executive Account Manager. He overlooked every client account on the west coast.  The transition was completely unnoticeable.  For Rich, work was work.  He had worked relentlessly and tirelessly since Kat’s death, and continued to do so without a hitch. 

Another three months passed and Rich was offered a position at InVision—a high profile marketing firm whose clients included Marriott, Philip Morris, Nestle, and other multi billion dollar corporations.  For most in the field, it was a dream job. But Rich no longer had dreams. He didn’t have aspirations or goals—only work.  Work had become his life. It consumed his entire being.  It blanketed the void left by Kat’s departure, then filled it, then sealed it.

Every once in a while his friends would invite him out, to which he would always reply, “Sorry, I’ve got a huge deadline next week”.  He always covered just far enough into the future to avoid any possibilities of rescheduling. 

His friends grew accustomed to this and eventually their efforts dwindled, until one night he received a text message from his friend Kevin inviting him over for his girlfriend’s birthday party.  He began typing the usual response when an incoming call interrupted him.

“Hey I was just texting you,” Rich said, unnerved by having to now decline the invitation by voice.

“Are you coming?” Kevin asked suspiciously.

“Ah, I can’t tonight man. I’m swamped—“

“Dude, just come for a little. You don’t have to stay long.” He sounded annoyed, probably for good reason.

Rich didn’t have any further argument, so reworded his previous excuse, “I just have so much stuff to get done.”

“Dude, it’s Katie’s birthday. It’ll be fun.” Kevin insisted.

Rich was annoyed by the persistence but, having not seen his friends for a while, he reluctantly gave in. “Do I need to bring anything?”

Kevin’s tone changed instantly and he excitedly answered “No, nothing. We already have food and beer. Just get your ass over here.”

Katie’s birthday meant that her friends would be over as well.  Rich’s friends had been hesitant to introduce him to any girls since Kat had passed, but it had been a while now and slowly they were becoming more direct about it. “Dude, she’s bringing her cousin” or “Her hot friends will be there” were more often than not tagged onto any invitation.

The party was more fun than Rich expected. The initial greetings felt a little awkward, the majority of which included “Man, I haven’t seen you in forever” to which Rich never really had an explanation other than “Yeah, works been crazy.” But after a while, he settled in and all of the once familiar faces became once again familiar.

“You’ve met Sydnie, haven’t you?” Kevin said pointing towards the pretty blonde girl next to him.

Rich had been there an hour or so and knew that some kind of random introduction was inevitable. “No, I don’t think so.”  Rich replied, extending his hand towards the girl. “I’m Rich.”

“Sydnie. Nice to meet you,” she said grasping his hand gently. Her hand was small and slim and all of her fingers seemed to overlap each other as Rich shook it and smiled at her.

“I’m gonna grab a beer, you guys want one?” Kevin asked pointing back and forth between Rich and Sydnie.

“I’m okay,” Sydnie answered as Rich raised the beer already in his hand to show Kevin.

Kevin turned and left. The convenience and quickness of Kevin’s departure made it pretty obvious to both Rich and Sydnie what his intentions were.  The two looked back at each other and, in doing what was expected of them, began talking. 

They talked about jobs, school, what their plans were for the future, what their plans were for Thanksgiving.  She told him about the flower business she’d started with her sister and the new Prius she was buying in December. Rich enjoyed the conversation. It felt like he was finally normal again—talking to girls without any awkwardness, despite a faint sense of guilt that would sporadically creep into his head. He hadn’t really spoken to many girls in this context since Kat, but nonetheless tried to get back into the swing of things. They talked throughout the night and by the end of the party Rich felt an instinctual confidence he hadn’t felt since before him and Kat had met.

“We should hang out some time,” He said as they prepared to part ways.

“Yeah, definitely. That’d be fun,” She replied, smiling back and nodding. Her teeth were excessively white and perfect—something that usually goes unnoticed in Southern California.

“Let me get your number. I’ll shoot you mine, hold on,” Rich said pulling the phone out of his pocket. The words felt unfamiliar to him, but came naturally—like a picture book being dusted off and read for the first time since childhood. The two exchanged numbers and a hug, and went their separate ways. ­

Over the next few months, Rich and Sydnie talked consistently and went on numerous dates—movies, dinners, and parties—each bringing Rich one step closer to his old self. They spent more and more time together until after four months, Rich asked Sydnie to be his girlfriend.  She accepted with a perfect smile and, though they’d already been increasingly inseparable, was happy to further solidify their relationship.

Sydnie was cute and sensible. She had pretty blue eyes and high, sculpted cheekbones that needed little makeup to accent them. Her hair was very blonde and very straight. She was never overly serious, but her sense of humor fell far short of Holocaust jokes. Rich was sensitive to this for the most part, but would indulge in the occasional off-color comment at which she would scoff and shake her head in disapproval, but always with a smile.  Sometimes he’d hope for a witty, or equally inappropriate response, but it never came.

Rich often thought about Kat. He was constantly making mental comparisons between his current and former lovers. She was shorter than Kat. She was duller than Kat.  She was a better cook, more athletic, and could sing better than Kat. She was smarter than Kat. Smarter. Intelligence never mattered to Rich. No amount of it satisfied his desires, but its absence never left him wanting more.  In fact, none of these things mattered to him. He was only interested in the intangibles, things that Kat was rich with.

After a year, the couple decided to move in together. It was more Sydnie’s idea than his, but he didn’t have any immediate objections, so obliged.  They leased a nice townhome with three bedrooms. “We can rent the room out. It will save us a ton of money,” Sydnie argued. Frankly, Rich didn’t need the discount. He was making enough money at his new job that Sydnie’s suggestion to lease in the first place seemed somewhat thrifty to him. Though the “lease to own” option made him uneasy.  He knew the time would inevitably come when he had to choose whether to anchor himself to this home and this girlfriend, or somehow explain to her that he just wasn’t ready.

Rich spent less time at the office and more time with Sydnie. He rarely worked at home and never worked on weekends, due in part to her insistence. Occasionally he’d leave work early to prepare dinner before she got home from the flower shop. She’d walk in and cover her mouth in surprise, then rush over and give him a hug and a kiss. He liked surprising her. It made him feel like he was doing a good job, like he was doing things the right way.

He thought he was happy, though happiness was no longer something he easily understood or recognized.  What he knew was that he was no longer alone, and that was enough; that was his happiness now.  Happiness, satisfaction, and contentment became one in the same to him—indiscernible to his scarred over psyche.

The night of their two-year anniversary, Rich and Sydnie sat down to dinner at home.

“Mm, the steak is so good!” she said, chewing a bite enthusiastically.  Rich smiled, mouth full of her garlic mashed potatoes that had put his effort to shame. “Your stuff always turns out better than mine,” she continued, “It’s not fair. You don’t even try!”  Rich wasn’t sure how to take that. He feigned a subtle laugh and continued eating.

They chatted and reminisced about the two years they’d spent together. They talked about how they met, their first impressions,

After Rich took the dishes to the sink, he returned to the table, filled his wine glass, and took it to the living room where Sydnie had curled up onto the couch. He sat down next to her. She was looking at her wine glass, eyes glazed over. She spun it slowly between her fingers watching the dark merlot swish gently about.

“You okay?” Rich obligatorily asked.

She curved the corners of her mouth into a terribly fake smile and without looking up said, “Mhmm.”

Rich was concerned. Their life together was so normal to him that he couldn’t imagine what could possibly be wrong. “You sure?” he persisted, watching her eyes follow the wine around the glass.

Sydnie made no acknowledgment.

“Syd, hey,” he said tapping her curled up legs with the back of his hand. She looked up at him but remained silent. “Come on, what’s wrong?”

Her intense pensive look was only mellowed by the affects of wine and food. “Um…” she muttered, finally breaking silence.  “So… we’ve been together two years now.”

He nodded suspiciously and said, “Uh huh,” already gathering his thoughts about marriage.

“And, um,” she continued hesitantly, “There’s something…”

Rich looked at her, more confused than before.

“I know I should have told you already. I don’t know, I guess I thought it would be better to wait.”

Now Rich was completely at a loss. “Should have told me what?” he questioned.

“Um, well…” she said looking up with a forced, closed-lip smile, “I’m, ya know…”

Rich’s stomach knotted. His confused expression intensified but he knew what was coming. It was something he hadn’t faced since losing Kat three years ago. He’d never worked out how to deal with it, how to react, how to accept or reject it.

She didn’t need to finish, but did, “pregnant.”