The Almost Archer Sisters by Lisa Gabriele Read Free Book Online

running washer and dryer. “Believe me, he and his future wife will thank me someday. You and Lou, too, because you guys would be the ones taking care of this baby. Not me.”
    Beth told Lou we were going to the mall for the entire day, and he was so overjoyed at our seeming closeness he insisted on taking Polaroids. He peered through the viewfinder, set the timer, and ran to stand between us. Beth threw her arm around him and smiled big.
    “Might want to put something on under that, Beth Ann,” Lou said, clearing his throat at the way her braless boobs spilled out over the top of her scoop-neck T-shirt.
    “I’m cool, Lou,” she said, cupping one boob and adjusting it. For the six or so weeks she’d been pregnant, she couldn’t keep her hands off them. She made me check out her boobs in every outfit she had tried on that morning. “I will definitely miss these,” she said, bending over in the mirror and giggling.
    The camera flashed and spat out a picture.
    “Okay. Keep an eye on Peach,” said Lou, shaking the photo dry.
    “I won’t let her out of my sight.”
    * * *
    T HE CLINIC WAS housed in an ancient hospital where crackpots and rummies went to calm down and dry out. In the parking lot Beth put a bit of makeup on me, in case they mistook me for the fifteen-year-old that I was. She tended to my face with concentrated artfulness, standing so close to me I could smell her Juicy Fruit and Final Net. In the gift shop she bought me a bunch of glossy magazines and candy. And then we waited. I seemed to be sitting on every last one of my nerve endings, a little terrified of Beth’s fearlessness. When they called her name, she sprang up like she’d been picked for something excellent.
    “Okay, Peachy, just sit tight, okay? Back in a jiffy.”
    In those two hours I must have drunk about six cups of coffee from the automatic dispenser. I kept picturing how I’d drive out of the parking lot the way athletes meditate on winning their races. I saw myself backing out of the space with beautiful efficiency, gracefully negotiating the crowded lot before pulling over a few blocks away, sweaty but victorious. Beth would hop out and trade places with me and we’d be home in a half an hour, shrugging off our lack of shopping bags with words I had a hard time believing myself: if asked about the absence of purchases, we’d say we didn’t see anything at the mall that we liked.
    But Beth emerged a different person than the one who bounced through the swinging doors. She walked like the elderly, tippy and fragile, damp hair clinging to her face. Her features looked smushed, as though pressed in by a giant thumb. The nurse asked if I was taking her home, and I nodded. Good, she said, handing me an envelope of pills. Give her two tonight and two tomorrow. Make sure she drinks a lot of water and gets a lot of rest in the next couple of days, she said. If the bleeding doesn’t stop in seven to ten days, bring her back. What bleeding? I wondered, half-expecting them to have sewn Beth up entirely.
    We both mumbled thanks and I ushered Beth out to the Wagoneer. The sun was harsh and hot. I buckled her into the passenger side and took my seat at the wheel. I began a prayer in my head, but stopped when I realized that God had more urgent needs to attend to than guiding the ride of two teenaged girls leaving an abortion clinic.
    “You’re going to have to drive all the way home, Peach. I’ll show you how,” Beth said in a small voice.
    “I can’t. You said you would after the parking lot!” I was terror-stricken and angry.
    “You can.”
    “I can’t. If I kill us or anyone, it’ll be your fault.”
    “Fine. Just put it with the rest of the carnage,” she said. “I’m on a roll today.”
    I inched out of the parking lot in agonizing fits and starts, jarring Beth’s limp body against the rigid seat belt. Beth leaned her head on the window, one hand covering her mouth.
    “I have to get out of here,” she said, her voice