There was never any doubt about what Cali was going to do.
She and Scott had partaken of a few too many cocktails one night, ended up in bed together and the condom broke. It was no secret that she'd nursed a monster crush on him for as long as they'd known each other, but she knew she couldn't have the baby. She never wanted him to think she'd done it to trap him. And even at 25, she wasn't ready for motherhood with all its necessary losses of freedom.
She and Scott agreed to split the cost and I made the appointment for her. Even though she knew she was doing the right thing, good Catholic girls don't schedule abortions.
They didn't want anyone else to know so I was their lone sounding board. Late-night phone calls flew, anxiety nipping at the wires. She was terrified out of her mind. He was worried she was going to change her mind. And I was concerned about losing mine.
A few days before the procedure, Cali asked me if I would go into the operating room with her. Scott offered (albeit halfheartedly he can't even stomach the sight of a paper cut), but she wanted me there. It seemed like an easy decision at the time. I've always been staunchly pro-choice, and if there was ever a time my friends needed me, it was now.
I just didn't stop to think about who would be there for me.