Unplanned Parenthood

Submitted into Contest #127 in response to: Write about a character learning to trust their intuition.... view prompt

1 comment

Romance Drama

This story contains sensitive content

“Sugar Sweet”

I'm sugar sweet baby.

I’m what you need baby. 

Just one taste…  

… and you’ll know.. 

… It’s me, baby.

I’m the one for you.

Love, I was born for you. 

I love you.

I’ll say it twice so you know it’s true. 

I’m sugar sweet baby.

You know I love you. 

I would've already left if… I was going to cheat on you. 

Don’t you feel secure?

I feel secure.

You’re always anxious.

Always sooo impatient. 


Can you help me?

I need you. 

I really want to see you. 





… I’m okay.

I need space. 

I know, I leave when… 

You can’t breathe.

I just… don’t know how to do these things. 

It’s me.

Why do you hate me?

I really think you need to go to therapy. 

You’re unrealistic with expectations. 


I’m on vacation!

They send me messages regardless, it's so completely harmless. 

Why are you always insecure?

I’m insecure!

But I’m sugar sweet. 

You’re what I need. 

Why aren’t you here?

You never loved me! 

I’m upset…

I need you... 

I miss you... 

You can’t do this to me!

You can’t leave me!

I’m in pain... 

You’re in pain... 

I never want to see you again. 

Can I see you again?

We’re really broken up? 

I can’t believe this. 

From sowed to seamless.

I see him.

Then another him.

Then another him.

Then another him.

Fuck me.

Fuck me.

Fuck me. 

I hate you. 

I text you. 

Whittney: I miss you. Delivered 2:21am. 


Sam <3<3<3: I miss you... Read 2:22am. 

Whittney: Come over. Delivered 2:22am.

Sam <3<3<3: Okay. Read 2:22am. 

Whittney: Are you coming? Delivered 2:22am. 

Sam <3<3<3: Yes, baby. Read 2:23am.

Sam <3<3<3: I love you. Read 2:23am. 

Whittney: I love you. Delivered 2:24am.

Sam <3<3<3: My sugar sweet. Read 2:24am. 

Whittney: Thats me. :). Delivered 2:24am.

[Trigger warning: themes about abortion].

(Two Missed Periods later). 

“We really fucked up,” you said pulling your turtleneck up to hide a hickey. 

“We?” I said, my neck throbbing due to 3 blatant hickeys of my own. I flipped through a sports magazine to find something to occupy my mind other than thinking about all the people you’re sleeping with. 

“It takes 2 to fuck asshole,” you said. 

I could see your pain. It was so obvious. I felt numb, I could only feel what you felt.  

“By my count, it also takes plenty of others for you too.” I held up 2 fingers, don’t you remember? “3, 4, 5…” my eyebrows rising,- next hand, “6,7,8…”

“Are you calling me a whore!" you yelled, more ragefully than I thought was possible.


“Then shut up. We did it… a lot more… okay. Statistically, the odds are mostly in your favor.”

“I’ll bet against those odds.”

“Let's not act like you weren’t with other people too.”

“I wasn’t.”

I lied. 

“You dumped me.”

“You left,” I said. 

You left me first. 

“Whatever,” you said.  

We sat in the abortion clinic, waiting for your name to be called. You had your arms crossed, pushing down on your stomach.

I set the magazine down on the table next to me. I had to squeeze one hand over the other to stop it from twitching. I really wanted to hold your hand tight and tell you it was going to be okay. I wanted to put your head on my shoulder and play with your hair. I wanted nothing more than to be the person I knew I could be for you. 

You take the love you lose to your grave, just as you take the hearts you're lucky enough to hang onto. Like matter, love is constant. It can not be created nor destroyed. 

Love just is. Catch it or run from it, love is everywhere regardless, as it always will be. 

Whenever I was around you after the break up I felt the constant agony of love stick like tar, nauseating my stomach. 

But I’m sure you also felt nauseated from the living organism growing inside of your uterus. 

“Whittney,” called out one of the staff, opening the door to the clinic. 

We approached the door together. 

“He can’t come with you,” said the staff member. 

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said to my shock. You had not called me that for months. We were just hooking up, then we were planning baby names all over again before that humbling reality hit us like a brick-shit-house. We saw a future together, not, with all due respect a nightmare in an abortion clinic. This was the first time I had seen you sober since the breakup. 

“I’m sorry,” said the staff member 

You grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight. I looked at you with a level of sincerity only we understood. I squeezed your hand tighter. You did the same. Our eyes started to water simultaneously. 

“You’re gonna be okay. I’ll be right here when you get out,” I said. 

With your eyes red and your nose runny, you nodded at me, then entered the clinic. 

I sat back down in the waiting room. I thought about the names for kids we picked out in bed, just a few months ago. Our noses, a few inches apart. Heads snug on comfy pillows. You were still wet. I was still sweating. 

“What about Eli,” I remembered asking, brushing curly black strands of hair out of your face. That's when you leaned in to kiss me. 

“I like Tanner,” you said. 

“Tanner? Kinda too white, and that's coming from a white guy,” I said. 

“You let me worry about that. I think it's simple and sweet.”

“It's basic.”

“Well, it’s not your body.”


“I’m tired. Goodnight.” 

“Whittney? Talk to me?”

“I’m just feeling anxious and don’t want to talk right now. We’ll talk about it later.”


“Night, I love you,” you said. 

“Love you too…goodnight,” I said. 

You rolled over, then pulled the covers up and went to sleep. 

There were so many fights near the end of our relationship that neither of us had any energy to work through or even know what the fight was even about in the first place. We went to sleep and never spoke about it again until you called me crying a week ago, telling me you were pregnant and needed a ride to a clinic. I asked if you knew who the father was. You said you didn’t know. 

I hung up and cried more than I ever had in my life. 

Admittedly, I bet you cried harder. 

Now we’re back at the clinic. I felt goosebumps run all up and down my spine. The clinic waiting room felt colder than it should be. I wondered if this was an intentional tactic to freeze people to death so they can't get abortions or just because I knew the woman I loved more than anything in the world was about to have something growing inside of her die, as the leftover pieces fall out in chunks in the days thereafter. 

I’m so sorry. 

A door swung open loudly. Even the shades behind my chair rattled. It was you, taking swift strides to the exit, mascara running down your face. I ran out after you. Found you sobbing on a bench outside. I sat beside you and attempted to put my arm over your shoulder. 

“Don’t,” you said.  

I lifted my arm off.

“Wait, put it back,” you said, nuzzling your head into my chest.  

I put my arm back around. 

“You okay?” I asked. 

“Do you really think we could raise a little Tanner?”


“Stop. Listen.” 

You pulled your head up, then wiped your wet face on my t-shirt. I could see the weight of the world in your eyes. “I know I don’t want this baby. I know I have to go to graduate school, make art, travel everywhere, get a life, and do everything else that comes with it. I know everything I have worked my ass off to get would all come crumbling down if I don’t do this. But I don’t think I could ever be a parent again if I go through with the abortion,” you said. 

“Stop. You’re going to be a great mom,” I said. 

“Don’t blow rainbows up my ass. You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you… I mean…look… the universe...”

“... always comes full circle to those who listen. I know.”

“Whatever you want to do. I’m with you. I’m here.” 

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you can be or do anything Whittney. Nothing has ever stopped you. You’ll be a good mom regardless. You’ll be a good person regardless.”

“Thank you, but I won’t be if I do this.”

“It doesn’t matter the order in which you do things. You're going to be who you are no matter what. It’s just a matter of what you choose. A mom or not a mom, it doesn’t matter. Failure is not possible with you. You're inevitably going to reap the consequences of being…”

I looked into your eyes, our faces a few inches apart. I wiped a tear from your cheek “... You… You’re inevitably going to reap the consequences of being you. The universe always comes full circle to those who listen. What do you hear?”

“A crying baby,” you said. 


“And… I’m tired. I’m just looking at the thing, not moving an inch. I can see the little baby hairs on top of their big ol head. Cute little blue eyes.”

“Your eyes are brown, fairly unlikely.”

“Shut up,” you said crackling. 

We smirked at each other like we used to. 

“... He also has chubby brown cheeks and my dad’s chin.” You wiped a tear from your cheek and sniffled. “My mom’s nose probably. As I’m looking at this baby, I know with everything in my being, without a doubt… that I love them so much. I love them more than I can even explain. It's so vast, so pure, so deep.”

“I support you… I’ll get a second job… or figure something out,” I squeezed your hand and kissed it. 

“No… I don’t want to keep it.”


You kissed my hand, putting it back on my lap. 

I felt air fill my entire body. A convoluted sense of guilt and relief rose over me. 

I’ll never forget what you said next.

“I finally feel like I'm able to trust my intuition and it's complicated but brutally honest and authentic... because so am I and so is life. I love this baby too much to not be able to give them everything I have. Your right, I can be the best fucking mom in the world. But I want to wait.”

You walked inside the clinic and went through with the abortion.

I've always been proud of your bravery and strength and always will be, regardless.

Goodbye, my sugar sweet.

January 05, 2022 00:11

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

1 comment

19:01 Jan 10, 2022

Okay... How do you come up with these stories? Do you have any advice on how to make a story so good???


Show 0 replies