Reasons: Part 1

I wrote this story a while ago; it's a reflection of some of my own feelings regarding my abortion, what it was like, and my feelings about having children. They're not all quite as extreme as Beverly's, but there are some parallels between my character and myself. It's probably a sign of vanity, but I think most writers pour themselves into their players, and I'm no different. I'm not posting all this in one day, because it's long. And that would be annoying, and no one would read it.

Reasons: Part 1


There were reasons Beverly didn't want to have children; everyone doubted they were good ones. A few people, family members, of course, --because no one knows how to inspire humiliation, or any negative emotion really, better than a relative, and all with the ingenuity that comes from a 'good' intention, --referred to them as 'excuses'. But her reasons were her own, god damn it, and they sat in the back of her mind in a locked cabinet, that was rarely dusty because, anytime she saw or heard from a friend, --amazing how few of those there were these days, --who happened to have kids, she examined its contents, satisfied herself after her perusal, and slammed the lid down hard enough to rattle the few remaining shreds of sanity where they lingered in her brain pan.

Beverly's chief reason, if asked, was that her mother was an insane cunt who abused her both physically and mentally; and for this reason, Beverly was especially afraid to have a girl.

Beverly looked like her mother, everyone said so, and it was too easy to imagine her mother's sneer, super-imposed over her own, when her daughter told her about someone who 'messed' with her. Touched her. It was too easy to hear herself say something about the way her child had dressed, or swung her hips, or invited the attention of an older boy. It was too easy to imagine herself shrugging away sexual abuse, and her worst fears, her worst nightmare was that it was too easy to imagine herself punishing a daughter for something so obviously, so perfectly NOT the child's fault.

Imagining anything was easy, really; Beverly's main attribute was imagination. It got her not very far in life at all; it got her frightened, it got her lots of anxiety attacks over stupid little things. It got her bad dreams, a tendency to cling to men who didn't need her and worse, men she didn't need either. Oh imagination was a talent all right, but also a curse. And one hell of a curse can get a person in a hell of a lot of trouble, if a girl can let it fester long enough, long enough to turn into a cancer that ate away at her mind, body, soul; Beverly was far from a 'bad' person. At least, sometimes she thought so privately.

There were many good attributes that she could think of about herself; she was generous, loyal to a limit that she thought was, nine times out of ten, a decent moral line, --she was kind to people, and had a conscience. She was irrational and easily provoked, --but that was a fairly feminine flaw, and she was still fairly young. Her hormones were still settling, and patience was ever slowly settling in and drawing out.

(Continued... tomorrow, maybe.)



© 2012 Ashley Harness


(And if you don't think I'll sue you, you're wrong.)