Scars

Ingmar.

Just because you keep something a secret doesn't mean it never happen, no matter how much you want that to be true.

If I had grown as a woman, as a person, it would be because of Ingmar.

We were together for couple of years. After the initial chemistry worn off, we stayed together because of familiarity, security and bed time activities. We did not connect much with deep conversations, we both had our own lives and circle of friends. He was a good companion and good enough to be presented at social gatherings. Without any storm, I thought we would probably get married and boringly get old together. There was no reason to break up, the sex was great, until a storm came.

We were both drunk, and we slept with each other. Without protection. It was a big deal, because I always counted my days carefully, and if the days were dangerous, the rubber must be there.

The next morning, with the head still heavy from hangover, barely remembering the details of the night before, I called Ingmar.

"Mar... we fucked without protection," that was how we communicated.

"You were in heat," he sneered. "Why? Are you worried?"

"Damn right, asshole. I am fertile. You know I am particular about this. Why can't you be a gentleman and put the damn rubber on?"

"Come on, ashtray. You can't blame me. You asked for it. And honestly, I did like it with nothing in between, our skin in direct conta...."

"Shut up, Ingmar. I am panicking. You could've gotten me pregnant, do you understand that?"

"Geez. Why are you worried? We fucked so many times, and none of my little fishes had gotten to touch any of your eggs. Here... simple. Get to the pharmacy this very morning, and ask for a morning-after pill. Okay? It will be alright, okay? I am sure you can handle something like this on your own, yes?"

I went to the nearest pharmacy as soon as possible and asked for the pill. The pharmacist on duty was explaining something about it but my head was not registering anything. I signed the paper without hearing what she said, asked for water and swallowed the pill in front of her.

I put the matter behind me and the days went by. We still met each other like usual.

And my period did not come on time. Alarm bells were ringing. If I were carrying his child, perhaps it was time that we would simply just tie the knot and build a family. I waited one more week, before I went to Ingmar's apartment and told him about it.

He became very ugly. He was scared, but so was I. There was screaming and shouting, blaming and crying.

"Abort that thing!" he shouted in disgust.

" 'That thing' here happened to be YOUR child, Ingmar," I touched my belly protectively.

"I did not sign up for that. I did not want to be a parent. If you do, have it your own way!"

"You son of a bitch. You won't man up and be responsible for this? What about us?"

"I am being responsible right now and I am telling you... TO... ABORT... IT !!" He emphasized the last words.

I was appalled. I barely know this person standing in front of me. He did not offer any words of comfort and he spoke dismissively. Son on a bitch.

"I see, I see..." I said, inhaling the cigarette deep, trying to regain my composure and whatever left of my dignity. "I regret the day that I met you. You've got a dick but that is all you are, a dick head. Don't let me see you again, don't ever contact me."

I loathed Ingmar from the depths of my soul. He had torn it apart. There was never love. We stayed together not because of love, but because of the fear of losing each other. Now, it was immense hatred until a point I felt that I needed to throw up.

Perfect. I vomited on his favourite sofa, and made sure some split to his carpet. He was shouting at the background, and still was, when I walked out of his apartment without a glance back, raising my middle finger as a bye.

I flicked the remaining of the cigarette, still lit, onto the door. Imagining in my head with that symbolic action, I set everything we had on fire and there will be no more.

If you wanna come into my life, the door is open. If you wanna walk out of my life, the door is open. Just do me a favour. Don't stand at the door, you are blocking the traffic.

One week. I allowed myself to deal with the loss of Ingmar for one week. I was never a weak person, I wasn't raised that way. I was neither those who pretend to be strong and hide or ignore my hurts. I dealt with my feelings and let the past be my teacher. No way will I take my own life, nor the life inside of me. Life is more precious than that.

I bought two test kits, of different brands just to be sure, and both confirmed with double lines. I picked myself up and scheduled an appointment with an Ob-gyn.

"Ma'am, the blood test and ultrascan results are conclusive. Uhm... before I proceed, have you any family members or husband with you so that together we can..."

"Just me, doc. The feotus has no father, just a fucking sperm donor. Please, proceed." The doctor saw the resolution on my face, took a deep breath before saying what was next.

"I'm sorry to inform you... it is an ectopic pregnancy. The feotus is not going to make it, and we should have it removed from your body before it endangers you..."

I stared at the doctor, unable to believe what I had just heard.

Just how low more can I get? When I thought that I had hit the ground, I was still falling. And gathering momentum so fast, so alarming... Anything that would break my fall would shatter me to pieces.

What is my place in this world?

You don't miss what you don't care about.

I consented to the surgery, and silently cursed Ingmar that his curse indeed came true. We had past the point of no turning back, I saw it crystal clear that he was not the kind of man that I want in my life.

Although outwardly rational, I couldn't control the devastation in my heart. I had already started to miss the little heartbeat inside of me.

I'm sorry. Mumm... I mean, I, tried to protect you and looking forward to meet you. Perhaps it just wasn't meant to be.

Thousands of thoughts and what-ifs and could-it-bes came to my mind. Perhaps your very short existence in the universe is for the sole purpose of helping me to get rid of Ingmar. Who am I? I made so much mistakes and my body, heart and soul are full of hurts and wounds that keep breaking open and would not heal. Even if I were to heal, I am dirty, imperfect and the scars will follow me all the days of my life. What if you weren't ectopic? You and I could have a great time together. We can live in the world that we design. Why were you ectopic? I froze at the thought... the morning-after pill?!