A Letter To Johnny

Dear Johnny,

Hello my sweet baby boy. I’ve missed you these long and painful twenty-seven years. I know what I did could never be forgiven, but please hear me out. I know there is no excuse for what I did, but just listen to why I did what I did. Just let me explain.
I crossed off the next blank square labeled 15 on my calendar and bit my lip nervously. Eleven days had passed since the white square with the giant red dot on it had passed. I was late . . . very late. But I attempted to calm myself. I kept telling myself over and over that I was over reacting. I had always been irregular. Plus, I was on the Pill, so pregnancy was definitely not even a mere possibility.
Only 99.9% accurate
The warning from my gynecologist when I first got on the Pill (as an attempt to regulate my period by my parents. They had no idea my true intentions of using it for birth control) haunted my thoughts that whole day at school. Just in case, I decided to go to the drug store and buy an at home pregnancy test. When I walked into the store, I swear that everyone could hear my heart pounding in my chest. I walked down the aisles until I found the one that held pregnancy tests. I pretended to look at the nearby diet pills until I was alone. The minute the last person left the aisle; I grabbed one of the few boxes and ran to the cashier’s counter. Without even glancing at who the cashier was, I threw the box onto the counter and slapped a ten-dollar bill next to it. It was only after I heard the shrieking voice did I know who I was talking to and I’ve never forgotten a word of that awkward conversation.
“Missy, aren’t you a little too young to be buying a pregnancy test?” It was old Mrs. Hansen, Sunday school teacher and biggest gossiper in town. She extended the box away from her, as if it was diseased. I had to think up a lie and fast.
“Well, you see Mrs. Hansen, my friend Tiffany, she’s too afraid to come and buy this herself. So she asked me to do her this favor, but by the time I knew what the favor was, I had given her my word. Anyways, she thinks she might be pregnant, so please don’t tell anyone.” Tiffany was not really my friend; in fact we hated each other. But Mrs. Hansen didn’t know that. Tiffany was a well-known slut, so it was perfect to say she asked me to do it. No one would believe her if she tried to deny it.
“Well, that’s very kind of you dearie, but what in heavens name will people think of you?” She asked in a hushed whisper as she double bagged the test in two small black bags.
“Oh! Everyone knows that I’m not stupid enough to have premarital sex; let alone unprotected.” I started laughing lightly, but inside my head I was yelling at myself, ‘Yes you are stupid enough because here you are now lying your ass off and possibly pregnant!’ Mrs. Hansen smiled at me and laughed also.
“Well, just don’t let your father see this. You know how he is.” And with that, I had left the store. Oh yeah I knew how my father was. My father, your grandfather, was very strict. Never abusive, but just barely on the line. If he even found out that I had been looking at pregnancy tests, I would have been in serious trouble. This was why I kept everything a secret. If one person found out, my father could of and if my father found out that I was pregnant, that might of driven him to abuse. As I left the store, I jammed the bag into my backpack and ran home. All the while, in the back of my head I was thanking God for those acting lessons I had taken so many years ago. Is not acting, but lying?
When I got home, I silently praised God that the house was empty. I locked myself in the bathroom, despite being home alone. I took the box out of the bags and starred at it for a little while. Slowly, I opened the white and blue box. Reading the instructions ever so carefully, I did as each step instructed. When the digital read out appeared, I quickly closed my eyes, sucked in my breath, and silently prayed to God. I opened my eyes and I choked on the breath I was holding in. Pregnant. I wanted to cry, but I was too upset.
It’s not that I didn’t want you. Oh Johnny, never believe for a second that I didn’t want you. I wanted you so bad, but my parents. I kept my mouth shut at dinner that night. I think my mom knew what was up. She kept giving me these looks. Like she was happy, sad, and disappointed all in one emotion. Whatever she knew at that time, she didn’t tell my father and I can never thank her enough.
At school the following day, I couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking about you. The jumble of cells growing into a baby within my womb. I didn’t eat at lunch. Before lunch ended, I took my boyfriend, your father, to our secret make out place. Before he could even ask me what was wrong (he always knew when something was wrong) I broke down and cried.
“I’m pregnant!” I gasped between tears. He was shocked silent. For a second I thought he didn’t believe me, but when he finally truly saw what a wreck I was, he held me close. I knew he was scared. What were a sophomore (me) and a senior (your father) in high school supposed to do with a baby?
“Are you going to keep it?” He asked.
“What do you mean? Are you asking me to kill my baby?”
“No! No! No! No! No! I meant adoption” He said firmly.
“I don’t know.” I sobbed. We skipped the rest of our classes. While I cried, huddled on his bed, your father called some clinic two towns over. We wanted to find out how far along I was. Since I had been on birth control, I could have been anywhere from one to three months pregnant. As I cried, I held my stomach. I couldn’t get over the fact that a baby was growing inside me.
Your father drove me to the clinic in his ’98 blue Toyota. He came in with me and helped me fill out all the forms. He was the only guy there. I remember thinking to myself, ‘Why do guys always leave when they find out that their girls are pregnant?’ When the nurse finally called my name, I was shaking from fright. I quickly stood up and followed her into the office. After I had changed into that horribly uncomfortable paper dress, I laid down on the uncomfortable cushioned table. I was silent as I did everything the strange doctor told me to. I think she could tell I was very scared because she kept trying to make small jokes during the ultra sound.
“There he is.” She smiled.
“He?” I had asked.
“About three month old, judging by his size, male.” Seeing that miniature human form on that screen, I forgot about all my problems.
“That’s my baby!” I was smiling and at the same time, crying tears of joy. I remembered my situation as I stared at your picture.
“What am I gonna do? I can’t keep a baby. I can barely keep my grades up.” I sobbed.
“Here’s my card. My cell phone number is on the back in case of an emergency, or if you just need to talk.” The doctor told me as she handed me a small white card after I had changed and gotten cleaned up. I put the card in the butt pocket of my jeans and walked into the waiting room.
“Two month old baby boy.” I whispered as your father held me. He gave me a reassuring squeeze as I dry sobbed into his chest. The other girls looked at us sympathetically, except one girl.
“Um, excuse me but do you mind getting outta here? You’re a very depressing sight.” The girl had told us. Another girl stood up and started cursing at her. Your father and I had quickly run back to his car. The ride home was silent. Not even the radio was on. I would have been crying, but I was way passed tears. Before I opened the car door, your father held my hand tightly.
“You can’t have this baby.” He wasn’t asking me, he was telling me that I couldn’t have you and that’s what angers me still today.
“What?” I was shocked.
“I can’t help you take care of an infant. I have to finish school and than I’m going to college. And what about my sports? I’m not gonna give them up just to get a job. I’m sorry, but . . . . we’re though.” He didn’t sound that sorry to me. His voice told me that he had wanted to break up with me for a while and now he had found his excuse.
Looking back, I now realize that he was scared. Probably more scared than I was. But when he told me that we were through, I hated him. I hated him as much as you hate me now.
“You’re breaking up with me because you knocked me up?” ‘Now I know how the other girls in the waiting room of the clinic feel’, I thought to myself.
“Forget my number and don’t tell people that the baby is mine.” With those last words, he drove away, leaving me on the curb in front of my house. In the reflection of his rear view mirror, I could see him crying, but I still hated him. I was the one carrying his baby and I was the one who had to make the choices.
I spent the rest of the night in my room, ignoring the calls for dinner. I just told my mother that I wasn’t feeling well. I would of thanked acting class, but I wasn’t lying. I really felt like shit. When I woke up the next morning, I decided to eat breakfast. Not because I was hungry, but because of you. I knew that I had to keep my baby healthy, so I ate eggs, some bacon, toast, and drank a giant glass of orange juice. It was pointless to eat, or so I thought a few hours later at school as I puked my breakfast into one of the old disgusting district toilet bowls. I complained to the nurse that I thought I might have the flu. I don’t think she believed my lies, but it was mandatory by our school’s health code to send any student who got sick on school grounds home. When I got home, I sat in my room and thought about what to do.
I was so confused Johnny. I am so sorry. If I had to choose again, I would never choose what I did. I was so scared, but I know that that is not an excuse for what I chose to do to you.
I pulled the card that the doctor had given me out of my jeans from the floor and picked up the phone. Hesitantly, I pressed each numbered button. When it started to ring, I started to hang up the phone, but I strained myself to talk. I forced myself to make an appointment for the very next day. After I had hung up from the doctor, I called your father.
“I told you to forget my number.” Can you believe it? That was how he answered the phone to me. He had caller I.D. so he knew that I was calling him.
“I made an appointment.”
“What?” I think he was shocked.
“You’re giving me a ride tomorrow.” I was telling him and he knew it.
“What makes you think you can order me around?”
“The fact that I’m carrying your baby.” I said it so simply, but they had such a big effect on him.
“I’ll pick you up at nine o’clock.” He whispered. I could tell he was crying on the other end, but I didn’t want to comfort him. I hung up the phone feeling more heartless than I ever felt in my entire life.
I was sick the next morning, so I was allowed to stay home from school. Before my mother left, she gave me the look. It was the same look she had given me the other night at dinner. “I know you’ll make the right choice.” She knew, but I had known she knew. She gave me a hug and left for work.
At nine o’clock on the dot, your father’s car pulled up in front of my house. I sprinted from my house to his car and the second I was in the passenger seat, we drove off. The car ride was silent. When we got to the clinic, I told your father he would be waiting in the car.
“Why?”
“I still hate you.”
I walked into the clinic alone and in the waiting room, I saw the girl who had given me a hard time the day before. I took a closer look at her and saw something I had not seen before. She was crying. I felt a pang of guilt, but I shrugged it off. The doctor called my name and I was prepped for what was about to come. Throughout the entire operation, I was crying. A nurse had to come in and hold my hand, I was so emotionally distressed. When it was all over and done with, I saw them taking the bloody mass of flesh into a back room.
“No! I want to bury him please!” I begged. I started crying again. The nurse looked skeptical, but the doctor nodded her approval. I think she just felt sorry for me. They cleaned off your body and put it in giant Glad container. After listening to the many reasons why I shouldn’t open the container, I was allowed to leave. I had you in my backpack so no one saw my little baby. Dead. When I got back to the car, I broke down.
“What happened?” Asked your father. I looked him straight in the eyes and told him exactly what happened.
“I killed my baby.”
“Our baby.” He corrected me.
“No. You broke up with me. You would of made me grow into an unwed teenage mother. My baby. My little Johnny.” I cried. I told your father to drive us to the cemetery, but I didn’t say why. I walked your father to the baby section of the cemetery and had him dig a six-foot deep hole with the shovel he kept in his trunk. He always kept everything in his trunk. He did as I told him to without question. I made a make shift cross out of two sticks and a necklace. I put your tiny body in the grave with the cross watching over you and I said a prayer. I begged God to forgive me and to take care of you. Even if you were the child of premarital sex, I begged and pleaded with God not to punish you for my sins. Your father shoveled dirt onto the grave and I put some daisy I had plucked from a garden nearby on top of the freshly dug earth.
I went home in silence. I didn’t even say good-bye to your father as he dropped me off. I think my mother knew what I had done the minute she saw me. She gave me another hug and started crying. I begged her not to tell dad and she agreed. I went to my room and stayed there all night. I felt a cold empty feeling in my womb for weeks.
Years after what I did, I still feel guilty. I took away your life. I chose for you not to live. So selfish. I suffered from depression years after I had aborted you. I had many suicide attempts. Your father and I never spoke of what happened, but we never got back together. Now I know God is taking care of you in heaven, because I am still here on earth. Dying as this cancer eats away at my body. He is punishing me for my sins and not you and I could not love God more.
Johnny, I love you and I always will. I hope that someday you could forgive me and love me too. I never would of made the chose I did. As soon as I got my first job, I bought a real headstone. In case you can’t read it from heaven, it reads:
Jonathan (Johnny) Oliver Machete
Never had a chance at life.
Johnny, know this as I lay here dying in this hospital bed. Even though your mother did what she did, she loves you with all her heart. Good-bye my sweet little angel. Maybe someday, I’ll see you in heaven and we can talk and I can see what my baby boy would of grown up to be like.
Love Your Mother,
Melissa ‘Missy’ Machete
The twenty seven year old man put down the packet of papers and wiped tears from his blue green eyes. His skin was perfectly flawless, much like his perfectly flawless raven black hair. He looked at the woman lying in the hospital bed. She was asleep at the moment. She looked over fifty, but the man knew that she was forty-one. Her long brown hair had silver strands scattered randomly though it. Her eyes were closed, but he knew that she had the same blue green eyes as his own.
The chart at the foot of her bed said that she was currently dying from cancer. According to what the doctors believed, it had started in her uterus. When it had been caught, it was far too late. The man knew that the women felt that this was a fair punishment. She had never been blessed with children and now her womb was killing her, slowly.
A machine hooked up to her body beeped with every heartbeat and with every heartbeat, the green line spiked upwards. An I.V. slowly dripped a clear substance into her wrist. The man walked to the woman’s side and held her hand.
He leaned over and whispered into her ear, “I forgive you mom. I love you too.” A smile appeared on the frail woman’s lips and she slowly fluttered her eyes open.
“Johnny! Oh my baby boy!”
Johnny held his mother’s hand and kissed her forehead.
“Johnny baby, I’m so sorry. Just please know this; I love you with all my heart. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. I’m so sorry.” She sobbed.
“I know mom. I read the letter. I forgive you mom and so does God. That was your punishment; to go the rest of your life with the guilt and pain of killing your child. Don’t worry mom, I forgive you and I love you. Come with me.” The man pulled the woman’s hand gently. Instead of the older woman getting out of the bed, a small fourteen-year-old girl did. That was when the woman truly died. The day she killed her baby.
“Johnny!” Cried the girl. She wrapped her arms around her son’s neck, completely oblivious to the fact that the green line was now flat and the steady beep was now a long droning beep.
“Come on, mom. We have to go into light now.” Missy nodded and stopped hugging her son. A white beam of pure white light appeared through the ceiling.
Before stepping into the light’s path, Missy said, “Johnny, I love you.”
Johnny smiled. “I love you too, mom.”