Thirteen Dollars and Eighty-Three Cents

Every August fifth for the last twenty-seven years, Bridget goes some place quiet. She looks for forgiveness. She hasn’t found it yet.

Graham was a new patient at Gables Dentistry. He came in every six months faithfully for his cleaning and check-up. Bridget worked as the receptionist and after Graham’s third visit she was smitten.

Bridget had a bad habit of picking the wrong guy. Every boyfriend she had, there were not many, had cheated on her. Bridget had known about the infidelities. She never said anything, at first. She would always turn a blind eye even after she had caught them. The cheating continued until she had the courage to live without them.

Graham had recently graduated from veterinary school and worked with his dad at his practice. His dad’s plan had been to give the practice over to Graham when he retired. Graham wanted to move out west, start his own practice and have a few good beef cows to help pay down his lifetime debt.

After his fourth visit, Bridget, after the encouragement from the hygienist who cleaned his teeth, asked him over to her place for dinner. He accepted.

He scoffed at her pot-roast with carrots and potatoes. He told her the apple pie tasted like diner pie, which Bridget did not take as a complement. They had sex after watching an old black and white western.

Bridget fell hard for Graham. He was different. He came across as shy, didn’t brag but had knowledge on many topics. He wasn’t impressed by himself but he had an air of confidence.

He only called her when he wanted sex. It was not like the guy she dated before, who called after the bar had closed. Graham would call; Bridget would make supper. Later after the movie had ended, they would have sex. Every time, he would stay over and the next morning Bridget would make breakfast. Her last boyfriend never stayed overnight.

These so-called dates would happen every other few weeks or so. Bridget did not mind. She knew he was very busy working at his dad’s practice.

It had been close to a year of knowing each other when she found out she was pregnant, he told her it wasn’t his and he could prove it.

Not fully understanding, she explained, “I’m only having sex with you.” Her heart crumbled and her soul shattered before he even replied.

“No, I’ve got five buddies who will say it’s their kid.”

She went home. She could not stop thinking how the father of her child was making her out to be a whore. She did not expect him to marry her, but she had hoped he would at the very least be more supportive. Neither of them had expected nor wanted this to have happened. Bridget worked a full-time job and weekends cleaning and she still had trouble paying her half of the rent most months. She had been saving to start her own business, a small coffee shop. How could she possibly afford a child?

Bridget had told Graham she really did not want an abortion.  

“I have no desire to raise it. I will get a lawyer and terminate my rights. I don’t want this kid.”

“That is fine. I understand.”

“So, you will get rid of it?”

“I don’t know. I need time to think.”

She did think. That was all she could think about. There was a tiny life inside of her, growing. She called the clinic that was nearest to her that provided care for women at a discounted price. She met with them. They pointed out the cost of raising a child in the mid-nineties as a single mother. They showed her the organizations that would help her and those that might. They explained adoption and what agencies to contact if she so chose. Then they told her about abortion. Like the other topics prior, every detail had been covered. It started with working up to the procedure, what would happen while the procedure was taking place and how to take care of herself after she terminated the pregnancy. Every nook and cranny had been covered. The last bit of information offered up was the cost of the abortion. That was when it really seemed real to Bridget.

The price of raising a child seemed so astronomical to her. She knew it had been a spread over time cost, but it still seemed phenomenal. The abortion was less than the first year’s cost of diapers.

“Bring me the receipts.”  That was all Graham said when they met over coffee.

Bridget had choked over her words. “Are you sure, without a shadow of a doubt you do not want this child?”

“Call me when it’s over.”

The doctor who performed the procedure had five o’clock shadow. He smelled of stale cigarettes and made the hairs on Bridget’s neck tingle.

Graham was thirty minutes late meeting Bridget a week after the abortion. They met at a greasy-spoon that was five minutes from his house. Bridget’s eyes were still swollen from all the crying.

Graham slid into the booth and sat across from Bridget. He just stared at her saying nothing. Finally, he asked, “Did you get it done?”

“Yes.”

After a few moments she passed him two receipts she had taken out from her purse. He opened the first, the receipt for the abortion, two-hundred and seventy-five dollars. He folded it back up and placed back down on the table. He looked at the second receipt for the antibiotics which had come to thirteen-dollars and eighty-three cents.

Graham took out his checkbook and through gritted teeth he wrote out the check. He folded it in half and passed it back to Bridget. Without saying a word, he got up and left.

Bridget tried to keep her composure. She sipped from her coffee cup and, finally, looked at the check. He had spelled her last name wrong. The amount written was thirteen dollars and eighty-three cents.