Sarahs Life Choices - Essay Example

 Sarah’s Life Choices At 16, Sarah was a freshman, having missed a few grades and one-hundred times as many days through her travels as her mother relocated them from vacant lot to run-down car to the latest squat house. They say “home is where the heart is”, but Sarah’s heart was broken and she figured it was poetic justice that she was homeless. That afternoon, Sarah sat in what was now her temporary home. With nothing else to do and no one else to talk to, Sarah took the spare change she had and walked to the pay phone that was by the convenience store on the corner. She put in the change and dialed Eric’s number. She tried three times and got the voicemail each time. Sarah left a message, waited five minutes and called again. He would know now that the incessant calls were not the kind that came from a secret admirer, but more from a stalker. It seemed like only yesterday that Sarah was bustling down the hall to her next class. Her head hung low, eyes on the floor, until she glanced up. And, there he was before she could disappear in another direction. With no other options, she hesitantly walked up to him, shrugged and tried to coyly smirk, punching him playfully in the arm and muttering a “hey”. Her eyes never met his, but instead passed back and forth between the floor and the zipper on her jacket. That zipper seemed to be getting more attention than an inanimate object deserved as her hands unconsciously gripped it to a white-knuckle degree, quickly and erratically fidgeting with it as it was pulled back and forth, up and down, the same five centimeters repeatedly. “Hey, how’s it going?”As the words were forced out of Eric’s mouth, his lips barely moved. A twitch in the side of his face hinted at a tightly clenched jaw. Sarah surveyed the bustling hallway, left to right and then left again to see who was witnessing her embarrassing moment. Then she just as quickly looked up at Eric with big eyes that began to fill up. She whispered, “You know how it’s going, Eric. We gotta talk. Can we meet up after school?” “I gotta go. Gonna be late for class”, Eric said. Eric was fumbling in his book bag, repeatedly rearranging his books as if he were looking for something and then grabbed a pencil and threw it at the back of his friend’s head. His friend turned around, flashed him a finger and went back to leaning over the girl whose ear he was whispering in next to the row of lockers. Sarah saw him surveying an escape and grabbed his arm, now staring intensely in his eyes, waiting for his next words. “Whatever. I made a mistake. But, I’m moving on and we’re done. So, there ain’t nothing to talk about”, Eric said, as he ripped his arm out of her grip, took two steps away then paused pensively, turning back to Sarah, “ Unless of course you wanna stay in the rotation”, he laughed. “Text me,” Eric said as he walked away. Sarah lunged forward and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. He shoved her out of the way and rejoined the herd. Sarah tripped backwards from the push, but was caught by the counterpush of those behind her. She shook her head as if to shake off all the negative feelings and was suddenly dizzy by the “woosh” of people flying by her. She lifted her head and looked down the hall, trying to process what just happened. She started to walk towards her next class and the hallway suddenly seemed small. She thought every face that passed by was staring at her. The bright strips of fluorescent lights across the ceiling were blinding like an interrogation, targeting her, taunting her. She ducked into the bathroom and slammed the stall shut. Her hair was feeling clammy and her bangs were sticking to her head. She grabbed the sides of the dirty, germ-ridden toilet seat with one hand on each side and held on for life. She leaned forward and felt everything inside her catapult out with a gut-wrenching force that made her eyes shoot out of her head. But that was then and this is now. With a deep sigh, Sarah picked up the receiver again and made one more call. At last there was a real voice. The conversation lasted only about 10 minutes. It entailed the kind of chat strangers share, polite and full of meaningless banter to fill the space. Sarah rolled her eyes and looked up at the empty gray sky, thinking how weird it was that this person she hardly knew saw her in a very intimate way, cognizant of her darkest secrets. When the call was over, Sarah took another deep breath and let out a long, cleansing exhale and then fumbled for a pen in her bag. Shakily, she wrote on the palm of her other hand the appointment so she didn’t forget -- as if she would. As Sarah lay on her back vulnerable, she looked up at the face above her and wondered what he thought of her right then. It didn’t matter. She knew it would be over soon enough. Yet, though she knew this would only take a few minutes, she was full of enough anticipation and anxiety to last a lifetime. Maybe that was because it would change her forever. She tried not to think too much about it and to just breathe as she felt the pressure between her legs and then the pain. But, the most overwhelming sensation was the shame she felt deep in her gut. This made her even more vulnerable, exposed, embarrassed. This was a mistake. She wanted to leave. She asked him if he was almost finished and he smiled in a way that was meant to reassure her, but instead gave her goose bumps. The smile was the creepy kind that makes you feel gross -- like you're doing something wrong. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he backed away from her and told her he was done. She did good. She was a good girl. As Sarah heard the door close behind her, she walked down the street and couldn’t walk fast enough to get away from the experience. And, yet, like those drawn to a train wreck, she had to look back just one last time… “NOITROBA”—read the letters on the poster in the window, showing through the thin white paper they were displayed on. It sounded like the name of an African princess or one of those exotic countries, like Nigeria. For those sitting inside that window in the waiting room, they saw things from Sarah’s side--including the poster. And, those staring at it face on, were getting the same red badge of courage that Sarah did as they waited for their name to be called. She walked by some dirty, hungry looking kids sitting next to their stoned, crack addict mother, with her head bobbing back and forth, nodding in and out of reality with each sway of her neck. She felt shame, but also relief. Shame because she was relieved. No matter how “icky” she felt, she knew she had done the right thing. She saw the baby balancing in the nodding woman’s arms and listened to its rattled crack baby cry and thought she was proud of herself for being a trooper, like that baby, and braving it all alone. The hands at the end of her crossed arms kneaded her stomach unconsciously as she limped by another small group of kids sitting under a cardboard box. These kids were attempting to stay warm, holding up a sign hoping someone would donate food to the oldest to disperse to the two younger. The 11- year old boy was doing this on his own -- trying to fix what had been bestowed upon him. Now she made it back to the abandoned home that she now occupied. Yes, Sarah had just survived her first abortion. When she walked in, her mom was back and there were quite a few new faces —new families of old and young. There were several generations of poverty right in front of her. But, she was the last generation to go through this. She ended a sick and sad legacy that should have never been and certainly should not be reinforced and repeated -- generation after generation; a life in which children were only born to die a slow and torturous inhumane death through starvation or addiction or neglect… The next morning, Sarah was deep in thought as she walked to school. She turned into the schoolyard, walked up the steps and entered the building with confidence. She saw Eric on the way and she looked at him and tossed her head in the other direction. Sarah went down the hall to the counselor's office, walked and told the counselor, "I hear you can help teenagers find part time jobs. Is that true?" The counselor said, "Yes. Are you looking for a job?" "Yes," Sarah said. "Then you've come to the right place, have a seat." Sarah smiled at the counselor but inside she knew that this was the first step towards starting her new life. As Sarah left the office she began to strut as she hummed the words of the song that seemed to be continually on loop in the back of her head: “…They call her a killer and they call her a sinner and they call her a whore. God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in her shoes…because then you really might know what it’s like, to have to choose…” And just as she sung those words she recognized finally what they meant… Read More