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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Drama · #1550977
Write about a time someone made an impact on your life.
Outside the white-washed walls of the examination room, one could hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital hallways. If Abby leaned over a little the right way, she could have seen the information desk and the nurse chattering on the phone. If Abby leaned over a little the right way, she most likely would have puked. Again. As it was, the noise from the outside was only prolonging the pounding headache that had accompanied her hang over. She waited, bouncing her heel against the base of the examination table like a little girl and drumming her manicured fingernails impatiently, for the return of Doctor Klein.



For some reason she felt sicker than usual after getting drunk the night before. She had to have blown chunks at least a dozen times that morning, and her headache would go away no matter what she tried. Her body ached, especially around her chest area. Absinthe Alizé Williams-Walker couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about this hang over demanded a hospital visit. So, the first thing she did once her husband left for work was ring up her dear old friend, Doctor Percival Klein, to see if he was working that day.



Perry Klein and Abby Williams grew up together as children. Their abusive, alcoholic fathers were drinking buddies. As teens, Perry could usually fight off his father's physical abuse, but Abby was weaker against her father's sexual advances. So she spent most of her time escaping to Perry's house--until some time during their junior year of high school when Abby started dating star quarterback, David Parker. The duo still remained close, only Abby didn't need Perry to be her only crutch anymore. She still cared for him just as much, and her admiration and loyalty for him never faded. Perry was just grateful that David could get Abby to do the one thing even he couldn't get her to do: stop drinking. But since David Parker's death their senior year, Abby had seemed to only fall deeper and deeper into her alcoholic relapse.



The pair continued on to college; Perry to become a doctor and Abby to become a lawyer. Abby was a private drunk during her college years, except for the occasional party, which was where she met her future husband, Damian Walker. She dated him because, for a split second, she heard a different name when he introduced himself to her. Perry didn't immediately take well to Abby's choice is spouse, who didn't mind one bit that the girl was an alcoholic mess. However, Abby convinced him that Damian was what she wanted. Perry's worry only deepened after Abby's sudden insistence on calling him 'Ian' instead of 'Damian.' Whether or not the name similarity was too painful to acknowledge, she would never admit.



Back in the examination room, a smile lit Abby's face as Perry entered the room. "So what's the news, Doc?" She playfully chaffed. "Food poisoning from the oyster at my co-worker's party? I'll tell you--..."



"Abby, you're pregnant." Perry immediately cut her off, the grimace on his face suddenly apparent. On most occasions, the room would be full of smiles, hugs, and congratulations, but Absinthe Williams-Walker and Percival Klein both knew what was wrong with this picture; Abby came into the hospital for help with a hang over. Perry watched as his childhood friend's jaw slacked; stood silently as her mouth twitched in a losing struggle for words. For a fraction of a second, he saw Abby's eyes flash at him as if to accuse him of lying to her, and in that fraction of a second, he all but thrust the test results at her.



Abby flipped the pages and scanned them with her eyes over and over again; back and forth, back and forth, until the words became nothing but blurs before her pupils. She was pregnant. The papers fell from her fingers and onto the floor as one hand made its way to her forehead and the other over her belly. After a minute of silence, her hands fell neatly folded in her lap. She stared past them. "Well," she said in the softest voice. "I think I need a drink..."



Balling his hands into fists and gritting his teeth, Perry tried to remain calm and collected despite Abby's immaturity. "Abby, I just old you that you're pregnant. As a doctor, I wouldn't recommend drinking as a means of celebration."



"It's not his baby..." Abby whispered almost incoherently.



"Ian's?"



Abby's head snapped up, her eyes fierce. "No, David's! It's not David's baby! I don't want it to be Ian's baby! I want it to be David's! I don't love Ian, Perry! I still love David! When he died, it's like I died along with him! I don't have the vitality to take care of a baby that isn't his!"



"Abby, it's been eighteen years!" Perry exploded back. "What did you expect? David's dead sperm to impregnate you while you had sex with Damian Walker?!"



Perry took a half-threatening step forward and Abby leaned back, half-frightened. "Look here, Absinthe; I don't care if you never truly loved Damian as much as David or if you ever will. You can swear up and down that part of you died along with your high school boyfriend all you want, but here's the real deal--you ready? You are alive and, inside you, another human being is alive too. Maybe he or she isn't your dream baby with David's sparkling blue eyes or Grecian nose, but dammit, Abby, he or she is yours. Now wake up and smell the decaf coffee instead of the booze every morning from here on out or, so help me God, Absinthe Alizé, I won't even have to make you regret it. You know why? Because I know you so well that the guilt when you miscarry or give birth to a premature, underweight, or defected infant will kill you quicker than the alcohol in your bloodstream."



Their eyes met in a dead lock. Abby hardened her lips into a thin line and ground her teeth together behind it. Her eyes, however, couldn't help but betray the guilt already consuming her at the thought of harming the baby inside her. After another minute of silence between them, Abby let her eyes fall away. "For the record," she started. "David had hazel eyes and his nose was slightly crooked." Reached for her key ring, she detached a small silver key and handed it to Perry. The gesture of placing the key in her friend's hand gave Abby the slightest shiver, as scenes from that Halloween night fast-forwarded through her mind. Abby glanced at the small silver key in Perry's hand.



It was the key to her private home bar--the only copy.
© Copyright 2009 Miranda L. B. (miranda.lb2010 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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