Here Comes Trouble - Michael Moore [74]
“I wouldn’t do that,” she assured me.
“You know,” I said, “abortion is legal in New York.”
I had no moral conflict in making this suggestion. I knew a fertilized egg wasn’t a human being.6
“I will help you, if that’s what you want to do,” I said.
“Thank you, Mike,” she said as she dried her eyes.
“We could drive to Buffalo,” I said. “It’s probably not that far.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Or we can go to New York City. I know the city pretty well.”
Of course, I was making offers I had no clue if I could deliver on. For instance, how would I get to New York City and not have my parents notice? That was never going to happen.
But Buffalo was possible. I started to plot it out in my head. I could leave for school at 7:00 a.m. and we could be in Buffalo by noon. How long would the procedure take? I didn’t even know exactly what the “procedure” would be, but let’s say three hours, then another five hours back—I could be home by 8:00 p.m.—late for dinner, to be sure, but suffering no more than a stern word or two.
“I have to tell Tucker,” she said, as the Bad Idea buzzer rang in my head.
“Yes. Sure. He has to know.”
I drove her over to Tucker’s trailer and waited outside while she went in to deliver the news. Fifteen minutes later they emerged from his trailer, arm in arm, and I sighed. They got in the front seat with me, with Zoe in the middle.
“Thanks, man, for offering to help,” Tucker said as he reached out to put his arm on my shoulder.
“Hey, no problem. I’m sure you guys would do the same for me if I got pregnant.”
Zoe laughed. Tucker continued: “I was thinking we should keep the baby,” the high school freshman without the driver’s license said, loving the swagger and the idea that he had actually produced something in his life.
“Yeah, well, that’s not happening,” Zoe said, shutting him up and relieving me.
We went over to the A&W for root beers and fries and further planning on how to end the unplanned pregnancy.
In the coming days I did the research and found the most reputable abortion clinics in New York City. I planned out our entire trip—one that we would take with my parents’ permission, though they would know nothing about the abortion. We would stay at my aunt’s on Staten Island. I told my mother that I wanted to go to New York for the weekend because I was considering going to college there.
“We can’t afford that,” she replied without shame.
“I’ve checked into scholarships and I think I might have a good chance. I’ve looked into Fordham. Jesuits! Good!”
Here I was, playing the Catholic card again, and dang if it didn’t always work. Her sister had married a man who went to Fordham, and I told her that would open a door for me. I promised I’d be gone just for the weekend and would miss no school.
“And you’ll stay with Aunt Lois?”
“Absolutely.”
My parents liked Zoe and, as their radar could detect no carnal scent in either direction, they did not consider her a threat.
I got Zoe and Tucker all excited about the fun time we could have in New York. You would have thought we were going there to have a tooth pulled—and then it was off to Times Square to see Hair and the Village to see Joni Mitchell. Maybe I could even score some tickets to Dick Cavett.
But my parents had too long to think about this odd trip, and within days the kibosh was put to it. I put up quite a fight, but there was no way to win this one. And who was this Tucker fellow?
“Hey,” Zoe said, “don’t feel bad. You gave it a good shot. Maybe we should go back to the Buffalo plan.”
“Sure,” I said, somewhat defeated. “Sounds good.”
At this point Zoe and Tucker began to realize that in going to get an abortion, three’s a crowd, and so they told me they would take over from this point going forward.
I would have said something to them about an umbilical cord being cut here, but this wasn’t the time for bad puns, although it certainly was the way I felt. There was nothing I could do other than accept the situation for what it was. Tucker was being very good to her, and she had calmed down and was now pretty