Because once a secret is out there, there’s no reeling it back in.
CHAPTER 24 Evelyn
JANUARY 28, 1988
Snow is falling, as is often the case on a January day in Toronto. It’s cold, and a bit damp, and there might only be two hours of sunlight today. Or maybe none at all.
People go about their business, bustling to and from stuffy administrative offices, pharmacies, and retail stores. The mundanities of life carry on. Everything is just the same as always, except on this day, everything has changed. On this day, the Supreme Court of Canada granted women the rights to their own bodies in a groundbreaking court case against Henry Morgentaler.
Abortion is now legal.
Evelyn and Alice were glued to the radio all day while they saw to their patients. When the decision came down, Evelyn was in the treatment room with a patient, but she heard Alice’s shriek from her office down the hall. It was all she could do to keep her hands from trembling as she made notes on her patient’s file and tried to maintain her composure. When the patient left, Evelyn burst through the door of the office to find Alice in a state of ecstatic agitation, tears streaming down her smiling face.
“Struck down?” she demanded.
“Struck down!” Alice shouted, pulling Evelyn into a tight hug.
The two women sobbed and cheered for ten minutes until they were forced to return to work. Fortunately, they had a light patient load today, so Evelyn was able to close the practice early and send Alice home with a promise that she would meet up with her later to celebrate. A rally has been planned outside Morgentaler’s clinic on Harbord Street later in the evening. Tom told her he’ll be joining with Reg, once they both finish work.
Evelyn has been sitting in a coffee shop around the corner from Morgentaler’s clinic since she left the office two hours ago, sipping a rare hot coffee and staring out the foggy window of the café. She’s been perusing the newspaper and reflecting on her career, the Janes, and the fight to get where they are today.
She has two appointments lined up tomorrow, and it will be the first time she can perform them without the fear of going to prison. She can’t even imagine what it will feel like to have that weight lifted from her shoulders, but she’ll find out tomorrow.
As the snow falls outside, Evelyn considers where Paula and the other women of the Abortion Caravan will be tonight. Celebrating similarly, she’s sure, at a pub somewhere near the Supreme Court building. Evelyn grins thinking about them all, a twinge of jealousy mixed in with the jubilation at how lucky they are to be in Ottawa tonight, right down in the thick of things near the seat of power that’s determined she’s no longer a criminal. But she decided to stay in Toronto, to be here with the Janes as they all rally around Morgentaler’s clinic.
She flips a page of the newspaper as she sips her coffee and notices a new ad in the classifieds today from a maternity home survivor seeking her child. She’s seen these ads regularly over the years. It’s both soothing and devastating to know that she isn’t alone in this lifelong struggle to reconcile what happened to her, that other women suffered the same way she did and have spent their lives wishing for an alternate ending to their story. She wonders, not for the first time, if any of the women behind these ads have ever found their children and reunited. The fact that they continue to appear in the classifieds underscores the scope of this tragedy, the number of lives that were impacted.
Shaking off these dark thoughts, Evelyn instead focuses on the prospect of drinking her coffee over tomorrow’s newspaper, with its bold headline that will confirm this groundbreaking victory for women. Evelyn plans to frame the front page and hang it up in her office as a daily reminder that she doesn’t need to be afraid anymore.
But her throat tightens as she thinks of her own lost daughter. Because the abortion rights activists didn’t win this fight just for themselves. This fight and this victory was for their daughters, and their daughters’ daughters. To make sure a horrible cycle was broken, and the next generation would be better off than their own. To leave these women a world where no one can tell them that they don’t own their own bodies. Where they don’t need to hang themselves or try to slit their wrists in a bathtub just to know what it feels like to have control. It all comes down to having the right to make the choice.
Every child a wanted child, every mother a willing mother. That’s the possibility they’ve achieved today. That’s what they can leave their daughters.
“Need a warm-up?”
Evelyn is pulled from her thoughts by the arrival of the waitress, a twenty-something with a round face and long blond hair. She’s holding out a steaming coffee pot. Evelyn clears her throat to free her voice.
“Yes, please, thank you.”
“Need any cream? Dessert?”
“Yes, to the cream. No dessert. I’m going to head over to Harbord’s for a brownie after this.”
“Don’t blame you one bit. Their brownies are the best.”
But Evelyn realizes she should eat something before the rally. People will start getting off work around four-thirty and heading down here to the clinic, and then it’ll be a long night.
“Actually, can I get a BLT and some fries, too?”
“For sure. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Thank you.”
When the waitress returns with Evelyn’s sandwich a short while later, the skin between her brows is pinched with concentration.
“You look kind of familiar to me, you know,” she says.
This isn’t the first time this has happened to Evelyn. She smiles and looks the girl squarely in the face. “I have a medical practice over on Seaton Street.”
It only takes a moment.
“Ohhhhh!”
Evelyn can see the red patches creeping up the waitress’s neck over the collar of her yellow uniform.
Jane? she mouths.
Evelyn nods. She expects the young woman to scurry away, but she glances over her shoulder, then sits down in the chair across from Evelyn, setting the coffee pot between them on the sticky table.
She exhales, shakes her head. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I honestly don’t know how you do it.”
Evelyn considers the comment. “Do you mean it was unclear to you how the procedure was done, or do you mean you don’t know how I do it from a moral perspective?”
The girl shrugs. “Neither. I just mean it’s such an awful thing. No one should have to go through it, but because, you know—things happen—it’s amazing that you and, uh, Jane were there to help. I imagine it can’t be easy for you.”
Evelyn stuffs two fries into her mouth. “It’s not about me, it’s about my patients.”
“Jesus, can’t you take a compliment?” The girl smirks.
Evelyn laughs out loud. It feels good. “Point taken. I guess my answer is: I do it because few people can. I’m in a privileged position, and I’m able to provide something that women need. It’s something that would have changed my own life a long time ago, but it wasn’t an option for me. So, I do it. Is it easy? No. Does it keep me up at night?” She shakes her head. “Honestly, it doesn’t.”
The young woman listens with an impassive face, then nods. “Well, I should get back to it,” she says, getting to her feet and lifting the coffee pot. “But thanks again. I can’t believe I ran into you, today of all days.”