7

Daisy-Belle perspective 

I'm getting ready for school, recalling the conversation I had with my mom yesterday. Although I don't entirely agree with her advice, I understand her financial struggles. I put on ripped blue jeans, a white shirt, a brown duster jacket, and gray sneakers. After dressing, I check my appearance in the mirror and apply some makeup. I bid my mom farewell, head outside, and flag down a cab, fortunate to find one quickly. A short ride later, I arrive at the campus, pay the cab fare, and enter. Today, I plan to speak with my friend Pamela about my pregnancy and my decision.

Pamela is a supportive friend who doesn't pressure me to reveal things I'm not ready to discuss, unlike my mom. She knows I'll confide in her when I'm prepared. This is something Pamela has understood about me that my mom hasn't. I want to talk, and Pamela is the person I trust to share my fears with. She doesn't pick me up from home every day, and today is one of those days.

Before I know it, I'm standing in front of the lecture hall, lost in thought about my conversation with my mom and whether I truly want this. Someone grabs my hand before I step into the empty hall. It's Pamela, wearing a reassuring smile. I'm curious about the empty hall and start to ask her if there's been a change in the class venue.

"The class was canceled; I was about to call you when I saw you heading this way," she explains.

"Oh," I respond, relieved that there's no class today. I attend school mainly for my mom's sake.

Pamela questions why I didn't notice her when I arrived, and we continue walking.

"I was sitting on the car's hood, chatting on my phone," she clarifies.

"Oh, I didn't see you. I was lost in thought," I confess.

"Lost in thought? Are you sick? Is it the baby?" She inquires, stopping in her tracks, watching my face, and offering a comforting touch to my shoulder.

I wince and become emotional at her gesture, tears welling up in my eyes. She notices and takes my hand, leading me away. In silence, we walk for a while as I struggle to hold back the tears. Eventually, we reach a quiet garden, and she assists me in sitting down, joining me.

She remains silent, and I'm not expecting her to speak first; I'm accustomed to her silence when I'm like this. I know she's waiting for me to open up.

"Pam," I finally break down in tears. She hugs me tightly, rubbing my back for comfort and whispering reassuring words.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Pam," I begin to vent. She stays quiet, a signal for me to continue. I pull away from the hug, wipe my tears, and she offers me her handkerchief.

When my face is dry, I look up at her. She smiles at me, offering support and holding my hand.

"I don't know what to do, Pam," I begin, sniffing.

"About what?"

"The pregnancy," I confess. "I'm confused about my life. I shouldn't have gone to that party. I should have stayed home and cried. I didn't expect things to turn out this way," more tears trickle down my eyes.

"Shhhh," she soothes me and hugs me again. "No more tears and explanations."

I wipe my tears again, sniff, and turn away from her.

"Are you ready now?" She asks me, inquiring if I'm ready to talk about the pregnancy, considering my reluctance.

She's asking because she won't force me if I say no. But I do want to talk to her; she's my friend, and she deserves to know the decisions I made the previous night. I also want to hear her thoughts, even if they won't matter much because of my mom.

"Yes."

"What happened, and why are you crying?" She questions.

"I'm just fed up with everything," I reply.

"I know that, but something must have triggered it. Is it your mom or the baby?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"How do I cope with school?"

"That's not a problem," she assures.

I stare at her, puzzled. "How is that not a problem? I'll become a laughing stock, and when Cameron finds out, he'll be disappointed."

"Is this about Cameron or you?"

I look away guiltily. "Me."

"Cameron is in the past. Forget about him; he brought this upon you," she says firmly.

"I don't know what to do. I don't even know how to find the baby's father."

"You could consider an online course, you know?"

"Online course?" I nearly exclaim, shaking my head at Pam's suggestion. "You know I can't afford that, don't you?"

"I can talk to my dad..."

"No, thank you."

"Alright. So what do you intend to do?" She asks, her gaze intense.

I feel somewhat relieved to share my thoughts with her, even though I can't take the solution she's proposing. I know she's suggesting I ask her dad for help, but if my mom finds out, she'd be furious and call me a beggar. My mom is poor but proud.

I'm unsure if I should tell her about the decision my mom and I made. I feel ashamed of it and don't know how she'll react.

"Have you talked to your mom?" She asks, as if reading my mind. I nod. "What did she say?"

I fidget nervously with my hands. The words are hard to utter, but I need to say something.

"Belle?" She calls.

I close my eyes and muster the courage to speak. "I want to have an abortion."