*WARNING* This post contains content not suitable for all audiences. While it does not use particularly graphic language, it mentions sex, as well as prophylactics, the morning after pill, and abortion, with occasional details that could be upsetting for some people.
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I was driving across the country in my old family van. I visited my parents and had an emotional talk with my dad about money, our shared history, and sandwiches. We agreed on bacon but disagreed on tomatoes. It was a good visit but left me feeling lonely.
I met Adam in a diner after a brief correspondence through a Craigslist ad. We chatted over soup long enough to establish there was decent chemistry, and then got into my van.
I drove to an empty parking lot, next to an abandoned movie theater decorated with scaffolding. Signs across the side of the building read, "Wear a hard hat at all times in this area."
We didn't bother getting naked. We began seated, me facing him, straddling his lap, and then decided we needed more leverage. The van turned into the roof of the movie theater. The air was warm with a nice breeze, and the ground was covered with Astroturf.
I got on my hands and knees. He was behind me. After only second he leaned forward, breath in my ear and murmured, "Too soon."
"What?" I turned. He pulled away, looking smug. I realized for the first time that he had not been using a condom. I felt instantly sick. Why, oh why, hadn't I checked for that in the beginning?
Even if I could recall verbatim the ensuing thirty second monologue, it would be laced with too many expletives to share. The safe for work words included stupid, irresponsible, and selfish. "I am fertile. Did this not occur to you at all?" I yelled.
Adam shrugged, I stopped, took a breath and said, quietly, "You don't seem concerned."
"You're making a big deal out of this," he replied.
"OK," I kept my voice low, so that I wouldn't scream. "What, in your opinion, should I be doing?"
He reached out and gently squeezed my upper arm. "I think... you could be a better sport about it."
I felt my brain melt with rage. I knew what he was about to say before the words left his mouth.
He went on, "There are ways to fix it. You know. If anything happens."
"Right," I said. "I'll tell you what. Why don't we take you to the clinic right now and have someone scrape out your insides with a metal instrument?" For the first time I saw his eyes widen. "Don't you dare act like this is nothing. Or that it's the same for me as it is for you." I punched him, hard, in the bicep, then got into my van and drove away. I wondered if this town had an all night clinic. A pharmacy might do. I needed Plan B right away.
I circled the parking lot. There were no exits so I ended up passing him again, leaning against his car. I rolled down the window, pulled up the ancient button lock and said, "HEY." When he looked up, I motioned for him to get into the passenger seat.
He was on the roof again. My van was lifted and so tall that I still looked down on him. I operated the axle crank so that I could bring my vehicle level with the theater roof, then used the newly installed robotic arm to swing myself gracefully out on the roof ledge.
I sat, patting the concrete beside me.
He sat next to me, avoiding eye contact.
"Sorry," he said, after an enormous silence.
"I am going to find a drugstore," I said. "Want to come?"
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