She sat there in the hallway, knees joined, high heels nervously clicking the perfectly clean floor tiles. Her Prada purse almost strangled in her hands. The smell of her sweet perfume is diluted by the strong, medicine aroma all hospitals have. Clinics are no fun. Especially for her, used to glamorous offices and exotic trips. Funny how the smell of clean is also the smell of disease, she thought.
But her nervousness wasn’t about the place she was in or the people in the rooms on both sides of the aisle. It wasn’t even about the board meeting next Tuesday. She didn’t even notice the nurses and doctors running through the corridors, with charts, and beds, and needles, and trays, in the race to save a life. No, she was nervous about one thing: her decision.
She took a deep breath, she held herself together. She needn’t double guess it. She had made up her mind. It was the right thing to do. Nobody was to judge her. The few people she told were fully supportive of her choice. She had the right to decide, damn it!
But then, there she was, staring at the tiled, clean floor. Alone, surrounded by a crowded place of busy people. Absorbed by her own busy inner thoughts. And then, she saw him. His shoes first. A pair of black, shiny, leather oxfords right next to hers. She looked up to meet his soft gaze that didn’t seem to match the strong suit, gray hair, and thick mustache.
He was offering a silk handkerchief.
“Here,” he said with a sad smile.
“What?… Thank you, but I don’t know why…” she was puzzled by his offering.
“It’s for the tears” he answered in a strong, dark voice.
“I’m not crying”
“You’re about to.” He said looking away.
“Who does he think he…” she thought to herself before tears started uncontrollably pouring out her eyes. What was that? She knew what she wanted, it was for the best.
“I’m sorry.” Said the gentleman.
“Who is this man?” She thought. But the endless tears stopped her from arguing with him. She felt embarrassed. Where had her independent women's pride gone? All she could softly mumble was “Sorry for what?”
Then he looked at her. With the deep openness of an honest heart.
“For the decision you’ve been forced to make. You don’t deserve this, and neither does your child”. He paused.
“I’m not being forced.” She cried. “It’s my decision. And I have no children nor want any” Now she felt mad. Who in hell was this handsome jerk? But he kept going. Something in his gaze made her listen, even though her tears came out in anger now.
“Do you think you are doing what you want or what you must?” Said he.
“You’ve been forced to make a choice you shouldn’t have to make. To believe that you need to choose in the first place. If this were truly what you wanted, they'd be no conflict in you. But you struggle.
I’m sorry you’ve been led to believe that you must choose between a life of personal fulfillment and a life of selfless joy. To believe that happiness is endless pleasure, and love is painful suffering.
I’m sorry you’ve disconnected yourself from the life force that’s inside of you. I’m sorry that you think it’s a burden instead of a blessing.
I’m sorry for a society that makes it hard for you to embrace life, instead of supporting it. That rewards your ability to achieve instead of your ability to give, and that leaves you at a disadvantage when you choose the latter.
I’m sorry you feel alone, scared, judged, and trapped. But mostly, I am sorry that you’ve been forced to hate your condition as a woman.
Women and the life they carry should always be celebrated, rejoiced, and supported in all possible ways. Whether this life manifests in physical form or not. Women should be free to be true to themselves."
She stared at him in awe. She had no words. He continued.
“I’m here to tell you that no matter the road you choose, there’s only love for you. You beautiful, miraculous, perfect woman, are infinitely loved. The life that’s chosen you as a path to walk this Earth will find another way and makes no judgment. All is well.”
“Miss Jones?” The nurse interrupted. “We’re ready to have you now.”
“Oh… yes…” she stood up. She looked down at the man.
He was gone.
“Miss Jones? Are you ready?” The nurse interrupted again.
Confused and hesitant she stared down the busy hallway. The clean smell of medicine was now fully perceptible in her tongue. The silk handkerchief was still soft and wet in her hands.