Hello! I hope those of you just back from work after a three day weekend had a good one!
Charisse has made some bad decisions. Haven’t we all? Let me know if you think the decision in today’s post is bad or good in the comments below.
Charisse’s eyes were still dry when she marched up the short flight of stairs to her apartment. Men were rat bastards—all of them. They treated her like a pawn in a game of power they played amongst themselves.
She rattled the keys in her doorknob and slammed it open. Marie had ditched her navy blue pumps on the floor behind the couch. She’d left her bedroom door open, and Charisse saw the blue leather dress on her bed. Who’d taken it off? Curious and relieved not to be thinking about herself at the moment, she walked towards Marie’s bedroom and peered closer. The closet door was open along with some dresser drawers, but her bed was perfectly made.
She guessed Marie changed herself. It would’ve been fast even for Marie to tumble into bed with someone after a twisted ankle brought them together.
She turned away from the bedroom and walked towards the bathroom between their two rooms. She flipped the light on, revealing a marble counter with a rose colored hue and cherry wood cabinets. Everything was clean, but the sink counter was cluttered with lotions, soaps and makeup.
Charisse opened her personal drawer and pulled out the Plan B box. She ripped the top of the box off before she could think about it anymore. She didn’t want any ties to Conor. He wasn’t the type to take her back after she’d thrown his offer of the salon in his face. Of course, she’d have to deal with him as her boss, but she could always quit and go work as a stylist for someone else.
She didn’t want to quit Ma Charisse, though. It was hers. She’d built it.
She took out the pill covered in sealed plastic. But before she could tear the back off, the apartment phone rang. Few people called them on that phone. She carried the pill with her as she walked toward the phone.
The caller ID said, “Blocked”.
She held her breath and let it ring. Conor didn’t know this number. But Josh did. She didn’t want to talk to Josh. Not now. Not ever again.
The ringing stopped. She let her breath escape her lungs. But then her phone started buzzing in her back pocket. She pulled it out and saw that the number was blocked. She dropped it onto the lamp table next to the other phone as if she’d pricked her fingers on it.
When the ringing stopped again, she held up the packaged Plan B. The pill wasn’t very big, like the heartbeat she’d seen on the sonogram for her lost baby. She’d been ecstatic about the baby. She’d even been thinking about leaving Josh. It was one thing to allow him to hit her, but there was no way she’d let him hit her child. She remembered feeling braver while she was pregnant, like she had a purpose she’d been lacking most of her life.
But giving herself purpose wasn’t necessarily the best reason to bring a child into the world.
She strode back to the bathroom, ripped the plastic off the pill and held it between her finger and thumb.
With a deep breath, she dropped the pill into the toilet and flushed.
So what do you think? Good idea? Bad idea?
Evelyn Aster 