The Other Night at Natalie's

I'm watching Natalie pace the room and bite her fingernails. I want to reach out to her, but she needs the silence right now. I can feel my heart beating and I know hers is racing twice as fast. I feel nervous and my hands are sweating, but my eyes are locked on her. Her face is pointed at the ground, eyebrows furrowed, still pacing, back and forth and back again. She's holding the phone in her hand. Her hands shake at the idea of pressing the buttons. There's one number, and it's calling her so strongly that one look at that phone and her fingers will betray her.

Natalie knows there is a girl on the other side of that phone line. Even though its wireless, she feels connected to her. This girl is in serious, serious trouble. No, she's not hurt or in danger. But she's standing at a cliff right now. It's a steep cliff and the wind is blowing really hard. Normally there's proper attire and equipment for this type of weather, but this girl has brought nothing, not even a sweater, and the wind has pushed her to the edge.

Natalie knows this girl is crying for help. And people are coming to her rescue! But her fate is being gambled in the hands of people with beliefs that are illogical, unfounded, and close-minded. Natalie knows that she could really help this girl because she's had the same experience. She's been to that same cliff and stepped back. Despite everything around her telling her to jump -- her family and the beliefs they instilled in her, her friends, her boyfriend -- Natalie knew she wasn't prepared to jump. No equipment, no training, no-go. Natalie needs to call that number and tell this girl that she doesn't have to jump either. The wind may be on her back, her legs may be ready to give in, but if her heart is not there yet, there's nothing wrong with waiting. Yes, it's the advice that no one else will give to this girl. But it's advice of empathy, advice of true love. 

I watch her eyes quickly dart at me. I suddenly feel stupid for lying on her bed. Should I sit? Should I go? It's suddenly very hot. I clear my throat and look at her again. Her eyes have moved to the window. She walks over to it in sync with her pacing. Her hand still holds the phone, but she uses the other to wave at the curtain. In the sunlight I can see tears in her eyes. There's a hard lump in my throat and I don't want to swallow. It'll unblock all the tears inside of me. Natalie's fingers touch over the buttons of the phone. I know she wants to call, I know she wants to help. But if she helps, she may lose her own entire family. Suddenly, every relationship she's ever molded, cemented, cracked, fixed, loved, gone! in an instant. One phone call could do that.

But this girl has her whole life in front of her! She's about to graduate college, and almost completely debt free! Why? Because she worked her ass off all through high school AND college to pay off her loans. Yeah. But this girl is even smarter than that. She moved to America from Sierra Leone at eight years old and can now speak both English and Spanish fluently on top of her native French. She wants to go back to Sierra Leone one day and give back everything she's gotten in her life abroad. She wants there to be a future in Sierra Leone like the present she enjoys here. She loves life. She makes jokes. She smiles. That big toothy smile that makes everything feel happy. She's beautiful. She's beautiful because she's worked so hard, and she knows it, and she's happy. And that same girl is now in distress -- serious, serious distress -- and Natalie might be the only one with real guidance to give.

Natalie needs to call that number, but the only thing stopping her is the one thing she cannot bear to imagine: Confessing her secret abortion. Because depending on how this girl takes something as "controversial" as that, a conversation like the one Natalie wants to have has the potential to get back to this girl's boyfriend. And this girl's boyfriend happens to be the cousin of Natalie.

I'm watching Natalie's whole body as it quivers. Her knees give a bit, but her feet are firm. I feel nervous and my hands are sweating. I can feel my heart beating and know hers is racing twice as fast.

This cousin isn't some long lost relative. This cousin isn't just a childhood pal. This cousin is the son of Natalie's Uncle Ben. Uncle Ben who is the older brother of Natalie's father. The best friend of Natalie's father. The mentor of Natalie's father. Uncle Ben who joked about running for congress during Thanksgiving and then bragged about casual lunches with Republican politicians at Christmas dinner. Uncle Ben who is the community pastor with the pious morale of a self-righteous priest. Uncle Ben who held a youth sermon called, "The Only Safe Sex is No Sex". Uncle Ben the passionate anti-choice activist. Uncle Ben whose son has gotten his girlfriend pregnant and is pressuring her into raising a child because anything else is "murder".

And if Natalie calls, she has the potential to end all of this madness.
And if Natalie calls, she has the potential to destroy her entire family.
And I'm watching Natalie pace the room and bite her fingernails.
And I want to reach out to her, but I know she needs the silence right now.

One phone call with the potential to save a life,
One phone call with the potential to destroy another.

What would you do?