Vomiting
Dizziness
Lower stomach pain
My eyes blur at the rest of the words. I poke my thumb through the package and pull out the tiny white pill, holding it between my fingers.
So small, yet this has the power to ensure I will not have a baby with Owen right now.
Or ever.
I have this inner knowing that if I take this pill, Owen and I won’t make it through.
I toss the cardboard into my trashcan and stuff the pill into the tiny zipper portion of my purse. Then I slip out of my bathroom, tiptoe through my room, and out of my house.
By the time I get to the open road, window down with crisp air whipping through my hair, I already feel better.
I shoot Owen a text in case he wakes and worries.
Couldn’t sleep, went for a drive. See you tonight for dinner? Your place?
I’m desperate to keep what he and I have going. It’s like I finally realized what it’s like to be happy. Happy New York City Autumn isn’t the same at Happy Sedona with Owen Autumn. He … makes me feel the most myself.
I don’t even know where I’m going until I pull into the church parking lot. The grounds of the church my mom goes to are so beautiful. They cut right into the red rock, and last Sunday I even saw an outdoor labyrinth.
Stepping out of my mom’s car, I lock the door and pull my hood up around my hair. The morning air is chilly but it feels good against my warm skin. I debate texting Livvie to see if she’s awake, but I’m not sure I want to bother her with this. This is heavy, and I don’t want to be the new friend who always brings the heavy conversation.
Instead I pop around to the back of the church and spot the small spiral of stones. The labyrinth. It’s just what I need, a meditative walk to clear my head. I heard once that if you bring a problem to the labyrinth, by the time you reach the middle you will have your answer or something helpful to guide you.
I start off at a slow pace, the entire time chanting one thing.
Should I take the pill?
Should I take the pill?
Should I take the pill?
Should I take the pill?
I get close to the center, only to wind back outward, and I realize this fucking labyrinth is a metaphor for my life. Get close to having Owen, then pull back from him. Close to having my mom healed, then she gets cancer again. Get job, lose job. As I near the center, I’ve picked up the pace and I’m no closer to having an answer to my question than I was when I came here.
“Autumn, is that you?” a familiar voice pulls me from my manic thoughts just as I reach the center of the labyrinth. I look up to see Pastor Greg standing in a jogging suit, holding a rake and tree trimmers.
My eyes widen. “Oh no. Am I trespassing? I’m so sorry.”
It was barely six A.M. and I hadn’t really thought about whether I was allowed to be here or not.
Pastor Greg smiles. “Trespassing? Goodness no. It looks like you’re trying to unravel a problem in your mind.”
My shoulders slump. “Is it that obvious?”
He sets down the rake and tree trimmers and motions to a bench.
I suddenly wonder if the labyrinth brought me Pastor Greg. You could talk to these people and they wouldn’t judge you, right? Wouldn’t tell on you either? They were like a lawyer and a shrink had a baby. With some God power thrown in.
I step over the rocks that make up the labyrinth and sit on the bench next to him.
“Lovely morning,” he says, looking out at the red rocks.
I gulp. Why of all places had I come to a church? And why of all people was the pastor out here during my mental breakdown?
“Really pretty,” I agree.
I’m not going to cave. I’m not telling him anything. I’m going to wish him a good day and then text Livvie.
“Do you think God forgives abortion?” I blurt out.
To his credit, he doesn’t stiffen, doesn’t even flinch. He just slowly nods his head.
“Of course. Our Heavenly Father forgives everything if you ask for it with an open heart.”
I'm still not even sure I believe in God, but hearing him say that I could be forgiven for something that has caused me so much guilt and grief … it lifts the burden from me in that moment. Maybe that’s what I need, to forgive myself. I was young, I made a choice I didn’t really think through, and I need to forgive myself for it. I did the best that I could at the time given my circumstances and what I thought I could handle.
“It’s something I did years ago…” I feel like I need to explain. “But now I’m in a similar situation.”
A tear slips from my eye and down my cheek and Pastor Greg turns to me. “Maybe try just letting things be what they will be.”
Be what they will be.
There was something comforting in that. Not trying to control every outcome, not trying to overthink the next twenty years of my life and see what they would look like with and without a baby.
Just be what they will be.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Sorry for unloading on you like that…”
He chuckles, deep and rich. “Nature of the job.”
As I walk away from my little chat with Pastor Greg, I know two things for certain.
One, I want this baby if a baby should come of it.
Two, I’m still in love with Owen and don’t ever want to lose him again.
Chapter 19
Owen
Two weeks.
Nearly two weeks of bliss with Autumn.
After finding the empty Plan B pill box in Autumn’s trashcan the morning after I gave it to her, my heart tore in two. I thought she’d taken it, thought she’d made her choice and I was going to have to live with the aftermath.
Again.
But then she came back from her drive and pulled the tiny white pill from her bag, handing it to me.
“What will be will be,” she’d said, and that was that.
We didn’t say another word.
Now it's like I'm riding on fluffy clouds of cotton candy and living my best life. The energy Autumn put into hating me when she showed back up, she now puts into being with me.
It's not just the sex, which is mind-blowing and constant, it's the conversation, the quiet time we spend together. It's like our relationship from ten years ago, before we fucked it up. I’m so comfortable in her presence; she feels like home and I keep waiting for something bad to happen and it all to be taken away.
Comparing now to before isn't even enough to capture it. It's us, Owen, and Autumn, but on steroids. Adults. Playing for real in the game of life. Before, we were just starting out on roads leading away from one another. We're seasoned now, we've traveled those roads. We've both had wins and losses, pain and triumph. The roads we went down eventually brought us back together.
Autumn hasn't told me her plans once her mom is in remission, and I've been too afraid to ask, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't constantly running through the back of my mind.
Is she going back to New York? She said her stuff was in storage there and it bugs me that she hasn’t had her things sent to Arizona.
As if thinking of Autumn summons her, my phone dings with the notification of a text message. We've been texting all day, but when I pick up my phone I see it's not a continuation of our earlier conversation, but a photo of a watch, along with the message: You keep forgetting to take this back from my mom’s. I never took you for a two-tone metal watch guy.