Shaking off the discomfort that’s settled on her shoulders, Nancy walks the final few steps to the path up to Dr. Taylor’s home. They’re meeting a patient here today for the procedure. In an effort to reduce the number of abortions they perform at the medical clinics of the Jane doctors, they’ve moved as many as they can to their private homes, many of which are unlisted anyway, for security reasons. And this patient has opted for the D and C. They give their patients the option now, but a lot of them still don’t want to miscarry at home. A few of them have told Nancy during their intake counselling that they didn’t want their homes to be haunted by memories of the abortion. They prefer unfamiliar territory they won’t have to return to. Physically, anyway. As Nancy knows, it’s hard to escape it in your mind, even when you know it was the right choice. It’s always there. Every day. Every time a friend gets pregnant. Every time you pass a baby on the street. Through all your subsequent pregnancies. You wonder what might have been. You’re always returning to it.
Nancy knocks, and a few moments later a tall, attractive man with a greying beard and temples answers the door.
“Hello, love. You must be Nancy, then. I’m Tom, Evelyn’s better half. Come on in.”
He steps aside and ushers her over the threshold, and Nancy registers her relief at the coolness of the air. She doesn’t mind making the trek out to Dr. Taylor’s house, but she’s worked up a sweat in the spring warmth, and needs to rest her puffy feet.
She extends her hand and introduces herself. Dr. Taylor’s husband is a warm and cheery fellow. His voice sounds familiar; his English accent is similar to her mother’s.
Dr. Taylor and Alice emerge from a door to the right off the foyer.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Tom floats back down the hall toward the kitchen.
“You have a beautiful home,” Nancy tells Dr. Taylor, looking around at the gleaming wooden staircase and ornate chandelier. Two doctors’ incomes, I guess.
“Thank you, Nancy,” Dr. Taylor says. “Come on in. You could probably do with a chair and a cold drink, I imagine?”
“Yes, please, thanks, Dr. Taylor.”
They settle Nancy down in a squishy armchair in the sitting room at the front of the house, facing the street, and she fishes her intake forms, clipboard, and a pen out of her bag.
“How are you doing, Nancy?” Alice asks, smiling. “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Everything still going well?”
“Yeah. Seems to be. I find myself tiring out more quickly now. My mum’s having a shower for me in a couple of weeks,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Not exactly my idea of a good time, but it’s a big help. Getting all the baby things together is really starting to make it feel real.”
“But your blood pressure has been good?” Dr. Taylor asks, her brow knitting. “No cramping or bleeding? Have your iron levels been checked? Is the baby kicking and moving regularly?”
Alice elbows Dr. Taylor in the ribs. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
Dr. Taylor flushes. “Just checking in, that’s all. Pardon me for caring about her well-being.”
“I’m sure Nancy has a good OB who’s monitoring all that.”
“Yes, I’m sure she does.”
Nancy takes a sip of her lemonade and smiles at the bickering pair. Her heart sinks a little at the thought of not seeing them anymore if she does quit the Janes.
“I’m definitely being well cared for, Dr. Taylor, but thank you,” she says.
Dr. Taylor nods in an embarrassed sort of way, then shifts tracks to the business of the day. “Our patient’s name is Brenda. She’s thirty-eight years old and ten weeks pregnant. It shouldn’t be more than a few minutes before she gets here. Once you’re done, Nancy, if there are no red flags, bring her down the hall to the door on the right. It’s an office I’ve converted to a surgery space for the time being.”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
Alice and Dr. Taylor head back to the surgery room, and Nancy only waits a few minutes before seven knocks sound on the front door. She shuffles into the foyer and opens the door for her patient.
“Hi,” the woman says loudly. “I’m Brenda. I have an appointment.”
“Hi, Brenda, I’m Nancy. Come on in.” She shuts and locks the door and leads Brenda into the sitting room.
“Go ahead and take your coat off, make yourself comfortable,” Nancy says, smiling at the woman to help ease any anxiety. Brenda’s eyes flash down to Nancy’s belly as she settles herself on the chair across from her.
“You’re pregnant?” Brenda asks bluntly.
“Yes.” She’s gotten used to this over the past couple of months since she started to show.
“But you work for an abortion network?”
“I volunteer.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“A few years now.” Nancy is starting to feel like she’s the one being interviewed instead of the other way around.
“Huh. I kind of just figured… I don’t know. I thought you guys were all about abortion.”
Nancy shakes her head. “We’re all about choice.” She can already see the question forming in Brenda’s eyes, so she answers it. “And yes, I’m currently pregnant, but I’ve had an abortion in the past. I know firsthand what you’re about to go through.”
Brenda jiggles her foot on the carpet. “Okay.”
Nancy tilts her head to the side, considering her patient. Her permed and bleached blond hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail tied with a neon scrunchie. A thick layer of concealer doesn’t quite manage to hide the dark circles under her eyes.
“Women’s lives change quickly,” she says. “I think you make the best decision you can for yourself at the time you need to make it. I made a choice six years ago that I wouldn’t make today because my life has changed drastically since then. I’m making a choice to stay pregnant, just like you’re making the choice not to.”
Brenda chews on her cheek.
“So, just to confirm, then,” Nancy continues, “you’re making this choice of your own volition, correct?”
“Yeah. For sure. But, uh, there’s something I need to mention first.” Nancy waits as the woman teeters on the precipice of something. “I’m a cop.”
The blood drains from Nancy’s face. “Excuse me?”
“I’m a cop, but listen, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I need an abortion. I know about the undercover operation that raided you guys in ’84. I’m not in the same precinct, but word sure got around, I’ll tell you that. But that’s why I wanted to come clean right off the bat. I’m not here to make trouble.”
“Just…” Nancy holds up a hand to stop Brenda from saying any more. “Just stay right there.”
She heaves herself out of the squishy chair, scurries down the hall, and knocks on the door on the right. When Dr. Taylor opens it, Nancy throws herself inside, slamming the door behind her harder than she intended to.
“Nancy, what—？”
“She’s a cop.”