“I’ll be sure to encourage her to attend the meetings,” Tempest said, forcing the sides of her mouth into a weak smile. “Thanks so much for everything, Doctor—?”
“McTavish.”
“Thanks, Dr. McTavish,” Tempest said, shaking her hand.
The doctor turned to walk away. “I’ll have the nurse come get you when Brenda is ready for visitors.”
“Thanks.”
• • •
Tempest was searching through her purse for thirty-five cents for the pay phone when Linda walked into the waiting room, looking just as exhausted as Tempest felt. Linda had volunteered to stay behind at the center and see that everyone got home okay. The session had obviously been canceled, but someone needed to shut the place down.
“How’s Brenda? Is she okay? Is the baby okay?” Linda asked, rolling off three questions faster than Tempest could open her mouth to reply to the first one.
“Brenda will be fine,” Tempest replied somberly. “At least physically. They’re going to sign her up for suicide prevention counseling here at Children’s. The baby didn’t make it.”
“Damn!” Linda exclaimed.
Tempest got up from the couch and put her arms around Linda. No matter what their racial difference, they were sistahs who shared the same goals and the same disappointments. Both of them had just lost the battle to save a young girl from the brink of disaster.
“This may not be the perfect place to share that cup of coffee, but how about we hit the hospital cafeteria?” Tempest suggested. “We could both use a pick-me-up.”
“What about Brenda? Can’t we go into her room?”
“Not yet,” Tempest replied. “We’ll stop by the nurses’ station to tell them we’ll be in the cafeteria so they can find us.”
“Okay,” Linda agreed as they walked out of the waiting room arm in arm.
• • •
“Temp, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Tempest answered, taking a bite of the stale peanut butter cookie she’d purchased to nibble on with her cup of coffee.
“Why do you do this?” Linda asked.
“Do what?”
“Work with pregnant teenagers?”
Tempest shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to embark on a deep conversation about her past. “Let’s just say I have my own personal reasons.”
“So do I,” Linda stated with an edge of nervousness in her voice. She took a sip of her own coffee before confessing, “I got pregnant when I was a teenager.”
There was a brief silence while Tempest waited for her to expand on her statement. When she didn’t, Tempe
st inquired, “What happened to the baby? Did you have an abortion?”
“Worse!” Linda lashed out at her. “My parents made me give my precious baby girl up for adoption. Just ripped her out of my arms and gave her away.”
Tempest could see tears forming in Linda’s eyes. She reached across the table and took her hand. “Look, we don’t need to discuss this right now. We’re both emotionally drained over the whole thing with Brenda. We can talk about this later.”
“No, I want to talk about it!” Linda exclaimed. “I need to talk about it!”
“Okay, I’m listening,” Tempest said, crossing her arms in front of her on the table and giving Linda her undivided attention.
“I was a junior in high school. A private school out in Potomac, Maryland. I first met Skip when we were in the eighth grade. By the ninth grade, I was totally infatuated by him.” Linda took another sip of her coffee before continuing. “I made him pressure me for sex for a good two years before I finally gave in to him. I wasn’t ready to have sex, but I knew if I didn’t, he would just get it elsewhere.