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View Full Version : VOTING: Entry Ten



Daenerys
02-17-2008, 12:43 PM
The woman is still wearing black when she enters the clinic. Compared to the sterile clean, whiteness of the place, she is like a botch, a stain, or perhaps even by extension, a mark of sin. The tall, shadow-like woman walks up to the counter.
“I’m here for my 12:30 appointment.”
“Name?” The secretary asks. She looks the woman in black up and down, a slight frown on her face. “Did you just come from a funeral?”
“Yes, I did actually.” The woman says stiffly. “I’m Trista Calvin.”
“Hmm…” The nosy secretary plays around on her computer. “Yep! Dr. Allen will see you in a moment. Please be seated.”
Trisa nods and makes her way to the waiting area. She walks over to a tiny red-headed woman, about her age. Despite her petite frame, however, she is extremely large with pregnancy.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” She asks, motioning to the seat beside her.
“Course not. Sit down! It would be nice to have some company.” The red-head pats the seat next to her in a friendly manner. “So, what are you here for?”
“I’m… They’re going to check up on some things…” Trista cautiously replies.
“Oh, goodness, I hope nothing is wrong!” The red-headed woman exclaims. “That would be terrible!”
“Yes… It would…” Trista says solemnly. If there was anything, it would be terrible indeed. Here she would be, a single woman, pregnant with her dead lover’s child. Father and the rest of the family would love that.
“Well, it’s pretty obvious why I’m here.” The other woman says, rubbing her belly affectionately. “It’s my first child, and I’m scared as hell, but that’s not going to stop me. I’m determined to have the healthiest baby girl ever born in this world!” She laughs good-naturedly. “Of course, it’s going to be a tough road. I don’t have anyone to help raise it with, but that’ll be half the fun, don’t you think?”
“You… Don’t have a husband?” Trista asks, slightly shocked. “Aren’t you afraid?”
“I just told you I was! But not about not having a husband. I don’t care about that no-good jerk that left me like this. I don’t need his help anyways. No, I’m worried about the baby. She’s been having some problems lately, so I came here to check it all out.” The ginger-head places her hand on the top of her belly. “I haven’t even held her yet, but I love her so much.” She smiles softly, a loving and tender sort of smile that all mothers should possess.
“Really? That’s….” Trista fumbles with her words, wanting to tell this woman how she is feeling, but yet too scared to admit her fears aloud. She takes the plunge anyways. “I won’t lie. I’m scared too. But not for my baby. I’m scared for me, for what my family is gonna think if they find out. This is the worst thing ever. It’s a disaster! I came today to get my physicians okay to get rid of it, even though that’s not what I want to do. This baby is the only part of it’s father still alive in this world…” Trista eyes become moist, tiny crystals beginning to fall.

“Sweetie, let me tell you something.” The woman takes Trista’s hand in her own patting it affectionately. “I’m not one for religion or anything like that, but maybe some higher force gave you this baby as something to help you with the eventual death of it’s father. Maybe this pregnancy is a chance for you to be reborn as a new person, as well as the rebirth of your lover through you. Who knows? I certainly don’t. But cheer up, doll. It’ll be okay.” She lets go of Trista’s hand, only to dig in her purse, pulling a tissue out. “Here, sweetie. Runny mascara doesn’t suit you.”
Trista let out a small laugh, the first she had allowed since she had seen the “positive” on the pregnancy test merely a few days before. “Thank you. I feel so much better now.”
“That’s good.” The woman smiled.
“Trista Calvin!” A nurse poked her head out of a door. “The doctor will see you now.”
Trista stood up, looking back at the red-head. “I’m sorry, I never properly introduced myself. I’m Trista Calvin.” She stuck out her hand. “It’s been so good meeting you.”
The ginger grabbed Trista’s hand with her own tiny pale one. “You can call me Hope. Hope Goff. Please, if you need anything, look me up. I’m in every phone book around here. Don’t hesitate.”
Trista smiled. “Thanks. I will.” She turned, walking to the nurse, in much higher spirits than when she had arrived. Today she herself had been partially reborn; now it was time to find out the exact date of another rebirth.