My Mother’s Abortion & Why It Matters
By: Pk Read
Tags: Choices, Womens Rights, Abortion, Texas, Roe V Wade

A billboard in Pennsylvania advertises legal abortions for under $250 in New York City. After New York legalized abortion in 1970, three years before Roe v. Wade, women from outside the state flocked there to get the procedure. United Press International via NYT

For years, too many years, I was haunted by the story of the abortion my mother facilitated back in the 1950s when she was a teenager and one of her best friends got pregnant. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since the US Supreme Court refused to turn back the new Texas anti-abortion law, thus endangering both a woman’s constitutional right to a legal and safe abortion in this country, and putting at risk anyone who helps her get one.

Before federal legalization, there were underground networks. If you were white and wealthy you might have access to a friendly doctor who ‘took care of things’ — and a handful of states had legal access to abortion — but for the vast majority of American women abortion was illegal, it was dangerous, and it could land women in all kinds of trouble.

On the other hand, so could unwanted pregnancy. It could take away whatever future a woman imagined for herself, whether it was continuing school, or having enough money to raise the children she already had, or having a career, or choosing her partner, or escaping a bad relationship — not to mention the impact of pregnancies resulting from rape. Granted, women’s choices were more limited when my mother was young, and not just the reproductive ones. Women couldn’t open their own bank accounts, or get a line of credit, or even rent a house on their own.

The evolution of rights to self-determination, including over reproductive rights, has been part of why many women and men today have grown complacent about the stability of those rights. Let’s not forget that most American anti-abortion laws themselves have racist, xenophobic, sexist origins to begin with — from excluding midwives (especially women of color) from a growing, white, male-dominated medical profession, to propping up birth rates among white Protestant women, to clamping down on pesky women demanding equal rights and self-determination.

My grandmother, born in 1910, once told me that she’d gotten married so she could have safe sex — which meant she could get pregnant without being stigmatized by society.

My mother, born in 1940, got pregnant and then quickly got married because being a wife and mother legitimized her existence. It also meant she dropped out of college, and within a few years became a single mother when the hasty marriage fell apart.

I had none of those hard choices to make, thanks to Roe vs Wade and advancements in women’s rights. We all, everyone, have more choices when all women have the right to self-determination. My mother wept when abortion was legalized in the United States — not because she regretted her choices, but because women like her high school buddy wouldn’t have to be driven across borders under cover of night to pay to have themselves butchered by strangers. Because making abortions illegal doesn’t stop unwanted pregnancies, it makes them more lethal in every way. Because her daughter would never have to face those dangers.

Laws change, sometimes for the better, sometimes for worse. True progress requires vigilance. Those who would rob people of their rights rely on the inattentiveness of the complacent rights holders.

Under a new Texas law, my mother could have been turned in for a reward of $10,000 for helping her friend. And if you think that doesn’t matter because my family is from California, then you haven’t been paying attention.

Many years ago, I wrote a short story about this trip, changing some of the details. I received lovely rejections from a number of female editors, telling me a story like this was no longer relevant, that abortion rights weren’t budging, that access to birth control and safe abortions was a done deal, forever.

People forget so quickly. Abortion was legal in the United States until 4–5 months, until it wasn’t. Then people thought abortion would never be legal, and in a seismic shift, it was.

One or two generations in from legalized reproductive choice and we’ve been acting like it’s as unchangeable as a mountain. But mountains move, and when they do, it’s seismic.

Here we are. What are you going to do about it?*

After all these years, I’m simply publishing the short story here, because it’s not only about being pro-choice when it comes to reproduction. It’s not about babies or not babies. It was never just about babies.

It’s about what we can do with our lives, with our health, and with our society. If the young women in my story are middle-class straight white girls, who have it the easiest of all, then being pro-choice is about more, for everyone.

It’s about the possibility of being anything, of being you, instead of only ‘choosing’ from a set of roles defined for you by someone else.

*Links at the bottom of the story for how to take action.

Here’s the story:

Image credit: Vanity Fair

Two Girls Who Went Over The Border

And What Happened When They Returned

By PK Read

That morning, Bea had made Kat memorize the phone number and then burn it. If it weren’t so scary, so illegal, it might even be fun. Maybe it would be a little fun, anyway.

Smoke danced in front of the big screen and Kat turned her hand holding the cigarette against the light, womanly and sophisticated by the minute. Mama told her to lose weight, smile more, speak her mind less, the whole ‘men don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses’ lecture about why she shouldn’t go to college. Gary didn’t seem to mind her glasses. If Mama knew what she was up to today, what would she think?

The music soared, meaning the movie was over and she had only seconds to crush the ciggie in the ashtray. Kat exhaled the last bit of smoke to one side — theater ushers weren’t supposed to smoke on the job. Her friend Ellie was somewhere up front — Kat could see her there as the lights came up, reapplying her lipstick.

A couple of regulars nodded at her. Jim, the lovelorn Beatnik who owned the record store a few blocks down, shambled to a stop next to Kat, cleared his throat. It was his third viewing of the subtitled French film this week. “Cocteau never gets boring, does he? That movie’s what, from 1950?”

“Yeah.” She’d only been eight in 1950. Ten years later, and now she was a Woman.

“Good gig you’ve got here, Kat — you get to watch them all as much as you want.” Jim said ‘gig’ like he practiced the word at home, and it would always come out like he’d never said it before.

“A record store’s not so bad.”

“Well, hey, if you’re ever in the market for a new situation…”

Then Ellie walked up and Kat watched Jim go through the usual male confusions of arousal once he made his way from Ellie’s big brown eyes, to the hair (that movie star hair!), the sumptuous breasts. Catching his breath, eyes bulging, the quick fumble for something to say. Ellie ignored him. “So, I sat through the whole sad sack thing, have no idea what it was about…”

“Sad sack!” snorted Jim, then stopped himself. “It’s only one of the best films of the last…”

Ellie looked at him, exhaled a stream of smoke in his direction, and bestowed her narrowest smile. “Save it. Heard it all from this one ten times over. So, you ready to go, Kitty Kat?”

Jim waved a goodbye and fled.

“What’s it like?” Kat said as she checked the seats for any left-behind popcorn boxes or bottles.

“What’s what like?”

“You know, having that effect on a man.”

“You call that guy a man?” Ellie took another drag. “You get used to it. I’d be disappointed if they didn’t react like that.”

“Must be nice.” What would the world look like if Kat could get the rest of her body to act with the elegance of her cigarette-holding hand? She had good hands, she knew that. Good hands and not much else.

“Kat, set your sights a little higher and your V-necks a little lower. It’s that simple. And it’s not ‘nice’. It’s useful. A girl’s got to take care of herself any way she can.”

“If I set my sights higher I’m looking over everyone else’s head. We can’t all be the next Marilyn Monroe.”

They walked down the block and Kat stopped in front of a newish Buick. Dark blue, very grown-up.

“Wow — whose sweet baby is this?” Ellie ran her fingers along the door handle.

“Donnie’s. He said we could use it. Got a big lecture on being ‘veeerry careful’ and ‘no funny stuff’, but he was nice about it. Couldn’t ask Mama, she doesn’t trust me with anything more than a bus ticket.”

Kat slid behind the wheel, Ellie slipped in on the passenger side, and the doors shut with the clunk of a bank vault. Kat pulled her hair into a ponytail for driving.

“Your mama doesn’t trust anyone with anything, and that’s the honest truth. What did you tell Donnie we were doing?” Ellie opened the glove compartment and peered in.

“I told him the usual — hop over to Tecate, do a little shopping, have a little fun. Promised him I wouldn’t carry back extra bottles of tequila, or pot, and be back over the border by midnight. Said I’d probably stay at your place.” Kat floated the Buick out onto Adams Avenue, the late afternoon sun glistening off the broad hood of the car.

“So you told him you were going with me?”

“When lying, it’s best to stick as close to the truth as possible.”

Ellie exhaled and flicked her cigarette out the window. “Good thinking. I’ll have to remember how devious you are.” They drove for a short while before Ellie spoke again. “Good thinking about saying Tecate instead of Tijuana, too.”

“Not good thinking — he wouldn’t have lent it to me if he’d known we were going to Tijuana.” Too much ambition makes a girl unattractive, Mama said, and Kat had enough challenges on that front already. Maybe the car was a sign that Donnie, at least, was starting to take her seriously. Kat tightened her grip on the wheel.

The evening air of San Diego was a soft hammock and the Buick floated south through the city, toward the Mexican border. The sun was low in the sky over the ocean, the crystal blue sky darkening to a rim of indigo in the east. Kat breathed in the bracing scent of the eucalyptus trees that lined the highway. Their finger-like leaves swayed with each passing car, pointing travelers on down the road with long, bored waves.

Kat turned on the radio. Easy blues piano filled the car, a smooth voice singing about ‘a black night falling, how I hate to be alone’. “Kind of old timey,” said Ellie, frowning.

“Leave it,” said Kat. “XEAK’s a good station, Gary says they play all the real stuff.”

“When Gary says ‘real’ he means ‘negro’, right?” Ellie grinned.

“He means good music.”

“Ah, well, he ought to know. Gonna be a star, that one.”

Kat raised her eyebrows.

Ellie continued, “No, I’m not kidding. He’s got the voice and the looks. I’m not being mean.”

Kat’s eyebrows settled again.

The piano riffs broke all along the length of their drive, echoed by distant waves against the beach. There was only a small strip of fire opal red along the horizon now, a few bright stars hung high and swinging along with the mood in the car.

“We should go out a little, have some fun,” said Ellie. “Might as well enjoy ourselves first.”

Kat shook her head. “We said we’d be there at eight, we’ll be there at eight. I have directions, but we have to find the place. And we have to find a pharmacy first, Bea says.” Bea had made it all sound so cloak and dagger.

“Hmm, well I’m sure Mother Bea knows best. And I do mean, I’m sure she knows best. I notice her son is an only child after she couldn’t get the first guy to leave his wife.” Ellie’s voice sounded light, but when Kat glanced over, Ellie was unsmiling.

Bea had only attained chorus girl status back in the Thirties, and twenty-five years later, she was performing as if the cameras were still rolling. But then, that’s why Kat had gone to her — Bea was the kind of person who would know what to do. Bea hadn’t even hesitated. She’d positioned herself artfully at the phone and made a call.

“Nancy, darling, it’s Bea,” she’d said in her corn husk whisper. “Listen, I’ve got the most wonderful girl here and she’s in a tiny fix. Seems her rabbit died and she’s looking for someone to help her find a place to put the poor thing to rest.”

Kat knew a few things about the codes of women. ‘The rabbit died’ meant someone was pregnant because that was the test used to check for pregnancy.

Kat had shaken her head and mouthed, “It’s not me!” but Bea had smiled and winked. That had been four movie showings, one covert slip of paper with a phone number (later burned), and two sleepless nights before. This would be her first drive south of the border without any accompanying adults. Ellie might be eighteen, but she hardly counted as grown up.

“We’ll look for a bar if we have the time, okay?”

Ellie nodded.

There was almost nothing better than the freedom of driving along the Pacific coast road when the destination wasn’t her own destiny, but someone else’s.

Ellie mused aloud as if their earlier conversation had never been interrupted. “You aren’t a Marilyn Monroe, anyway. You’re more — what’s the word…?” She was examining Kat carefully from the side.

“The fat girl who doesn’t get the guy. The one who ends up living with her mother. Or in a one room walk-up for the rest of her life.” She shuddered.

“No. Silly girl.” She shook her head in amusement. “’Statuesque’! That’s it.”

“Just say ‘big-boned’ and let’s change the subject.”

“Fine. Maybe you can explain that crazy movie you love so much.”

“Careful, it’s only my new favorite movie you’re talking about.”

“Favorite!” Ellie snorted. “A week ago you didn’t even know it existed.”

Kat took a swig of Pepsi and washed it down with a long drag on her cigarette. “There were a lot of things I didn’t know a week ago.”

“Anyway, between the subtitles and the kooky story, I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. A writer — “

“Orpheus, a poet,” Kat corrected. “In the original myth he’s a singer. He’s a poet in the movie.”

“Orpheus loves Death, Death loves Orpheus, Death’s driver loves the poet’s wife.” She put up a finger to stop Kat. “What a mess. The only normal person in your movie was the poet’s wife, who loves her husband and dies for it. What a dummy.”

Kat looked over her shoulder to change lanes. Signal, check the rearview, check left, sidle over, signal off. Donnie would be impressed. “I like it. Love triumphs, but not in the way you think it will.”

Ellie shuddered. “And that bit about ‘if you look at yourself in a mirror all your life, you’ll see Death at work’? Horror movie stuff. I’d rather go watch Creature From The Black Lagoon.” She looked at herself in the mirror on the sun visor and stuck out her tongue. “That’s for you, Death.”

Death had been played by a woman in the movie. Kat thought she was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. Death did as she pleased and everyone bowed before her. Not a bad prospect. The border was a mile or so ahead when Ellie poked Kat in the arm. “Hey, let me drive.”

“Donnie said only me.”

“Don’t be a dope. It’ll be easier if they see me first.” Ellie spoke with the inadvertent truth and cruelty of the truly beautiful.

Kat piloted the car to the shoulder of the road and they switched places. Kat ignored Ellie’s lusty sighs as she took the wheel in her hand and stroked it with longing.

At the border, two young Mexican guards stopped them only to get a longer look at Ellie, who had a demure smile for each man. She arched her back slightly and draped one arm languidly along the top of the seat. The men exchanged glances like they’d been granted a wish they didn’t even know they’d had. Were they old enough to cross international borders without their parents? They almost swooned when Ellie said she was old enough to cross any line they could imagine.

“Might see them on the way back.” She waved good-bye as they drove away, and both men waved back. “Best to make nice now, right?” She settled back in to her seat. “So, what’s first?”

“The pharmacy near Caesar’s Hotel, then we meet the guy in the café across the street from there and follow him to the place. Sounds simple enough.” They switched seats again once they were out of sight of the border, and Kat headed for the lights of the city.

Kat had eaten before at Caesar’s with her parents — Mama beadily monitoring every bite that went into Kat’s mouth. She’d slummed it in dives watching Gary sing, a gringo guy playing Spanish folk songs. She’d gone to the casinos with Ellie and her latest boyfriend — Bill Preston, the big Hollywood producer, who always forgot her name. How hard was a one-syllable name? Bill probably expected everyone to remember his name, that was for sure.

A short time later she had parked near the hotel and Kat went into the farmacia, while Ellie waited outside, watching the café across the street for their contact. It smelled like the inside of her mother’s medicine cabinet, all metal and sterile promises. Two Army rats in uniform, probably down from Camp Pendleton, were in line ahead of Kat. They bought red uppers, and popped a few them right there at the counter. They threw broad grins at Kat and strode out like conquerors.

The dour pharmacist didn’t blink when Kat asked for the painkillers Bea had told her were indispensable for the job. He slid a small box across the counter. He looked Kat up and down, his eyes narrowing. “You here for help?”

“Help?”

“You know. Woman help.” He made a brushing gesture across his own belly, as if erasing something.

“Uh…well, not me exactly, but…” Her eyes drifted to Ellie outside before she could stop herself. The solider boys were chatting her up and the three of them were laughing.

The pharmacist retrieved the box he had put on the counter, shuffled off for a moment, and came back with another box. “Better. No make you so sleepy. Too much sleep not good later. Might need to wake up.”

“How about one of each?” The man nodded her over in the direction of the cashier, who held up two fingers. Kat slid over the two dollars and headed outside.

Ellie grabbed a bottle and took one of the pills by the time they crossed the street, and washed it down with a shot of tequila at the café. She let herself be escorted onto the small dancefloor by one of the soldiers. She was dancing up close to him by the time a slim, older man in a jacket and tie introduced himself to Kat as their contact ten minutes later. By then, Ellie had downed two more shots and a third pill. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be useless later.

Ellie gave the soldier a quick kiss on the cheek and a friendly shove, then walked across the dance floor. She popped a kilowatt smile that fell flat. The man said, “My car is out front. You follow me.”

Back in Donnie’s car, Ellie was looking like she might be ill. Kat glanced over. “Second thoughts? Cause this train is leaving the station pretty darn soon.”

Ellie shook her head. “Are you kidding? I’m only surprised how — organized — it all is. Like a million girls do this, all the time. I thought I was the special one.”

“You are the special one. But not for this, I guess. Did you tell Bill? I never asked.”

“Of course I told Bill. Bill’s the one who’s footing the bill — ha ha — for this little T-Town trip. Said ‘the sooner the better’, so I have a chance for that part in his new movie.”

“And the wife?”

Ellie waved her hand. “The wife. I’m not worried about the wife. I want to get this over with so I can do that screen test he promised before I bloat up. They don’t give beauty pageant crowns and screen tests to single mothers. Ask Mother Bea. Never worked a day after Gary was born, I’ll bet you anything.” Gary’s father was a famous producer, never married to his mother, and no one mentioned him anymore. “I’m not interested in a secret bungalow and a monthly pay-off to keep quiet. I want to be in movies.”

Kat drove on in silence, and after a few more minutes, they arrived in an area of Tijuana she had never seen. This was a quarter of low houses, the occasional shop or tortilleria, small bars that looked nothing like the bright tourist places of the zona centro.

Their guide stopped in front of a house covered in bouganvilla vines, and Kat pulled up behind.

Kat made to get out of the car but the man motioned for her to stay. “This won’t take long, and there’s no place for you there. She comes in, someone will bring her out after.”

Ellie looked at Kat, eyes wide. “You won’t leave me here?” She looked unnerved.

“Of course I won’t leave you. I’ll be right here.”

The man led Ellie around the back of the house and into the inky shade, where they disappeared. Kat had been uncomfortable around the man, and now she realized why: He was the first man since they’d been fifteen who hadn’t looked at Ellie with longing. It had been an upside-down moment. He had treated Ellie as if she were no different from anyone else. Kat wondered whether her friend would even survive for even a day as one of the plain people, one of the girls with limited prospects.

She thought about what Bea had said about the rabbit dying. But was it the test that killed the rabbit, or the checking? Burying the rabbit, that one she could figure out for herself. That’s why they were here.

Kat leaned back and turned on the radio. Ray Charles was singing that sweet hit, Georgia On My Mind. A few months earlier, she’d driven over to Tecate with Gary. The drive was longer than to Tijuana, but she liked the town better. Small, with an old-fashioned square in the middle, shops and restaurants all around, the kind of place you went to on a romantic date.

Not that Gary was romantic, but it had almost been a date, and after a day of walking around and drinking beer, they’d headed home to La Jolla and he’d parked his car on a side road in the desert. There was a moment, a short one, when he’d been above her and she’d seen that look of longing aimed at her.

She pictured his face floating above her in the moonlight, eyes on her like she was the only girl in the world. Imagine having someone, anyone, look at you like that all the time. Imagine looking at someone else like that, and having them love you back. He’d bought her a little turquoise bracelet in Tecate, and she twisted it on her wrist now.

She didn’t need throngs for adulation. A crowd of one would do. You weren’t any kind of woman unless someone adored you. Mama told her that.

There was a sharp tap on the passenger side window of the car and Kat almost jumped out of her skin.

The man in the suit was back, with a stout Indio guy in a wrinkled shirt. They had Ellie between them. Her face was white, her eyes closed, but she seemed to be conscious. The shorter man popped open the car door of the car and slid Ellie in like a limp kitten. He placed her handbag next to her and shut the door. She slumped over and put her head near Kat’s lap. The guy in the suit came over to Kat’s window.

“She’s fine. Put a blanket or towel on the seat. Keep her lying down for a little while, less blood that way. She’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

He pointed Kat down the road and told her how to find the Agua Caliente. From there, she knew how to get home. She nosed the car out into the street — when she looked over her shoulder, both men had already disappeared as if they’d been shadows themselves.

She touched Ellie’s hair as she drove away.

“Ellie?”

There was no response.

“Ellie!”

“Huh. I’m here.”

“What happened?”

“I gave them the money, they did the job.” She sounded far away, and gave a deep sigh. “I’m not even sure the guy was a doctor. More like a veterinarian. Tell Bea I’m going to kill that hairdresser friend of hers.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like a million bucks.”

After a few minutes Kat saw the radiance of the Agua Caliente up ahead. She glanced down at Ellie. For once, Ellie looked like a fragile teenager instead of a dazzling future movie star.

“Ellie.”

“Mm.”

“I’m only checking.”

“Hurts like hell and I’m doing my best to pass out. Not dead.”

“Good girl.”

Kat drove and tried to sit like beautiful Death from the movie, imperious and with profound intent. Then she glanced over at Ellie, remembered who she was imitating and thought maybe she should just be Kat.

Half an hour later they had crossed the border. There were different guards in this direction. Kat had pulled over briefly before the crossing, gotten a beach towel from the trunk and put it under Ellie to soak up the blood. “They said there might be bleeding,” said Kat.

“Guess that means they’ve done this at least once before,” mumbled Ellie.

Kat threw a blanket over Ellie and her own jacket on top. Anyone looking in from the window might think she had a pile of cloth on the seat instead of her best friend. The Mexican guards glanced at her driver’s license and waved her through without a second look. Once she had driven a few miles past the border, she pulled over again to have a look at Ellie. She flicked on the interior light and saw that the beach towel was drenched with blood. Small beads of blood had formed and were dripping down the front of the seat. Kat felt the hairs on her neck rise.

“Ellie!”

“Huh?”

“There’s a lot of blood — I think I better take you somewhere. A hospital, I mean.”

“No. No, no, no. You know we can’t. We’ll go to jail. You and me both. Get me home.”

Lights flashed against the dashboard and a California Highway Patrol car pulled up behind them. An officer stepped out of the car and approached Kat’s window. She rolled down the window and looked up.

“Evening, miss. Something the matter?”

“Hello, officer. Nothing’s wrong, I was, um…”

“You’re pulled over on a blind curve here. Kind of dangerous, for you and for other cars.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my friend was feeling a bit under the weather, and I thought she might have to…” Kat trailed off. What might Ellie have to do? Bleed to death in the car?

“Coming up from Tijuana?” He bent over to get a better look and Kat could smell his cologne. “You girls had a little too much to drink, maybe? You got any open bottles in there? Maybe bringing home something for later?”

Kat opened her mouth to say something, anything, when she heard Ellie’s voice, bright as ever, right next to her.

“Oh, officer…Officer Nelson — I can see your badge now. Is that Old Spice you’re wearing, Officer? It smells divine!” Kat turned to look, and there was Ellie, upright, eyes ablaze with interest in the cop. Ellie smiled as if she and the cop were the only two people in the world. “Of course we haven’t been drinking! We just went down to have a look around. I think one of those little enchiladas steered me the wrong way.”

If Kat hadn’t known better, she would think she was actually flirting with Officer Nelson, who seemed to be under the same impression. He gazed across at Ellie like she was the sun rising at midnight. A small trickle of sweat ran down Ellie’s throat and continued down into her cleavage, but Nelson was too dumbfounded to notice that or the fact that Ellie’s breathing was shallow. She twisted slightly to change her angle towards him, tugging Kat’s coat to cover the blood.

“My friend Kat thought I might need to…you know. But I don’t. You are so very kind to stop and help two damsels, even if we weren’t honestly in distress.”

Nelson nodded along and smiled. “Well, girls, it looks like I was mistaken. But next time you pull over, make sure you’re out of the line of traffic — safety first!”

“Thank you, Officer!” they chimed together, and Ellie gave him a little wave. He started to wave back, caught himself, and walked back to the patrol car. He gave them a friendly double beep as he turned the around, and headed back south.

Ellie sat for a moment, dazed. Kat put the car in gear and pulled out. “How did you do that?”

“I know my best angles. Bill taught me.” She slumped over and passed out.

“Ellie!”

Kat drove to the next phone booth she saw and called the number she’d found in Ellie’s dainty black address book.

A man’s voice answered the phone.

“Mr. Bill Preston?” the operator said.

“Yes.”

“I have a collect call from an Ellie Wells, do you accept the charges?”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then, “Yes. Put her through.”

Kat explained the situation. Ellie was unconscious in the car, they were a bit outside San Diego. Mr. Preston was quiet for a moment, then told her where to go, and said he’d meet her there. In the background, she heard a woman’s voice ask who it was on the phone. Mr. Preston answered that it was ‘someone from the studio’. He gave Kat directions and hung up.

Kat kept one hand on Ellie’s head and let the late-night program on XEAK play on. The disc jockey was playing Miles Davis’ new album, Kind of Blue, in its entirety. No commentary. Maybe the DJ had a girl in the studio and couldn’t be bothered to change the records. She let the trumpet pull her north, watching the waves to the left crash and recede, white in the moonlight. She hoped she wouldn’t get stopped again.

By the time she reached the house in Laguna Beach, Ellie wasn’t moaning anymore. She was breathing, but inert. As Kat steered up the driveway, two men came out to meet her. Mr. Preston looked less glamorous tonight than usual. He looked younger, too, but he was still old — according to Ellie, he was almost thirty.

Mr. Preston and the other man opened the door on Ellie’s side and gently removed her. There was blood everywhere.

“Jesus Christ, what did they do down there?” exclaimed the other guy, a slender blond man who wasn’t introduced and took no notice of Kat.

“Let’s get her inside,” said Mr. Preston. They carried Ellie into the largest house Kat had ever seen up close. Mr. Preston motioned for her to follow.

Once inside, Kat sensed movement behind some of the many doors, but didn’t see anyone else. Mr. Preston and the other man carried Ellie through a door. Kat was surprised to find herself in a doctor’s examination room. The two men placed Ellie on a steel table and Kat saw that Ellie’s entire lower body was red, her skirt soaked completely through.

The blond man, who Kat realized must be a doctor, glanced at Mr. Preston and sighed. “These girls of yours. Should’ve brought her to me in the first place, Bill.”

Mr. Preston shrugged like a boy who had been caught stealing a smoke. There was a soft knock on an adjoining door and an older Hispanic woman entered. She didn’t spare a glance for Ellie, and kept her eyes on the doctor, who said, “Please take this young lady to the kitchen, Maria, and give her a little something to calm her nerves. I’m sure she’s tired.”

“I’m okay, I can stay and — “ Kat hadn’t even finished her sentence before she had been steered out the room by Maria and led towards a kitchen. Maria didn’t say a word as she prepared a cup of hot chocolate, adding two different kinds of powder and patting Kat on the arm as she watched her drink it down.

Kat awoke on a sofa in a bedroom the size of her family’s living room, filled with early sunlight glinting off the ocean. It was hard to even remember what had happened the night before.

Ellie was asleep in the bed, pale but breathing regularly. Kat sat on the bed next to her for a moment. Ellie opened her eyes and slowly found Kat’s face.

“Hey, Kitty Kat,” she said softly. “What a naughty girl, calling Bill.” She reached her hand out and took Kat’s wrist, giving it a weak squeeze. “Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like hell, like I need a ciggie, like I’ve got a new lease on life.” She gazed into the distance for a moment, as if trying to focus on something. “Bill said –“ she squeezed Kat’s arm harder now, “ — Bill said I can have a speaking part as soon as I’m better, and a screen test for a movie after that.” Her eyes were wide open now. “I’ll give you a call once I’m back on my feet. Maybe tomorrow. I owe you one, Kat.”

Kat wandered out and found the kitchen. A cook was preparing breakfast there, and poured her a cup of coffee.

She found the blond man from the previous night sitting on a terrace near a pool. The morning was blindingly bright. He didn’t get up, but greeted Kat from his seat. He told her Ellie would recover, but would need some rest — the job had been thoroughly botched, like they’d gone in with rakes and spades. Another couple of hours and she would have been dead. “On the positive side, depending on how you look at it, she won’t be needing another operation like this ever again.”

Kat was trying to think of something to say, but found herself at a loss.

“Thanks for taking care of her, sir.”

The man stood. “That’s what I’m here for.” He led Kat down the long hallway to the front door and handed her an envelope from Mr. Preston, in which she was thanked for her help. Two crisp $100 bills accompanied the note.

“I didn’t do this for money.”

“It’s not payment for work completed, it’s a small token, that’s all. A gift between friends. You’re a smart girl — you kept your head and you’ll be discreet. Why, I bet you won’t even remember the address of this place once you’ve hit the road south.”

Donnie’s car was parked in the driveway.

“I’ve had the boys see to your car. The girl will stay here for a couple of days, and then we’ll send her back home.”

He sent her off in the direction of her car before she could even respond. He’d never introduced himself, and the front door shut behind him before she had even left the porch.

Kat drove home in a daze. The car had been thoroughly cleaned and vaccuumed — it looked better than when she’d borrowed it. ‘The boys’ must have been up all night. It was as if none of it had happened, except for the two hundred dollars in her purse.

Kat arrived home to an empty house. Everyone was out at work. She showered, put on some clean clothes, and went to lie down.

She was awoken by Mama stroking her hair. Here was something new. Mama never stroked her hair.

“Are you okay, Kat?”

“Sure, Mama. I’m tired.”

“Anything I can get you?” Mama was being more soliticious than Kat could remember.

“I’m fine. Really. Just resting. Long night at Ellie’s.”

“Did everything go okay down in…Tecate?”

“Sure. It was fun. Like always.”

Her mother looked disappointed. “Kat. Don’t be coy. I know.”

“Know what?”

“Don’t treat me like a fool. I know. Look at you, bigger than ever in just a couple of weeks. And I know why you went down there. Tecate? Who goes to Tecate on a Wednesday night? I know you went to Tijuana. Why do you think I made Donnie lend you his car? And I’m asking whether you are feeling alright.”

There was no point in lying.

“I’m fine, Mama, but it wasn’t for me.”

Mama withdrew the tender hand from Kat’s hair and her face hardened into an expression Kat knew better. “Not for you?”

“No, it wasn’t. It was for a friend. I took a friend.”

“Who?”

“I’d rather not…”

“Who, Katherine. Tell me.”

“Ellie.”

Mama’s shoulders sagged. She shook her head. “And here I thought you were the smart one. I guess Ellie’s a little brighter than she looks.”

Later that evening, Kat went to the club where Gary was playing. She walked in and found him talking to a girl in long hair and sandals who had her hand on the nape of his neck. He was so handsome, his smile so warm, his brown eyes looked at each person like there was no one else. He saw Kat and gave a whoop. The other girl frowned and moved off. “Hey there, Kitty Kat! How’d it all go?”

“Terrible, but we survived.” She twisted the bracelet he’d given her on her wrist.

“How is she?”

“Up at some rich doctor’s place in Laguna Beach. Guess she’ll be okay. Anyway, her guy seems to like her all right. He hung around long enough to make sure she was okay. He promised her a speaking part and a screen test.”

“Lucky girl. Sounds like she’s got what it takes. Or at least, she’s got a devoted producer.”

They sat at the table and Kat watched girls look at Gary, watched him watching them in the mirrors that lined all the walls. So much love and adoration in the air. She poised herself like Death imperious and commanded someone to look at her.

Gary tapped her hand. “I go on again in a few minutes, Kitty girl.”

“Gary,” she said. “My mama knows. She’s going to want some kind of a wedding or something. I mean, I don’t care, but you know how she is. And Bea is going to kill us. She thought the whole thing was for me.”

Gary gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “Bea doesn’t care, trust me. And as for your mother, well…I’m not doing much during the day this summer, so I’m sure I can fit in a wedding. If that’s what you want.” Like it was another gig, one that required no practice.

“It’s what Mama wants.” Not everyone had Ellie’s options. Kat had promised she would attend secretarial school while she was expecting. Married life, even with Gary, wouldn’t have to mean no money.

Gary waved two shot glasses like bells and hummed Here Comes The Bride.

The bartender called out, “Gary, you’re on!” Gary gave her a quick peck on the forehead and then he was onstage, his honeyed voice floating out over the tables. He looked five times larger onstage than he did anywhere else, Kat thought.

“We’ll say it’s big for being a six-month baby,” Mama had said when telling Kat she’d have to get married before the first three months were up. “Big-boned, like its mama. Hopefully not as stupid.”

Kat would make her own family, the one where she was the grown-up and no one could boss her around. She’d get those looks of devotion, just like Death, empress of her dreams, the one with the elegant hands.

END