‘From my oldest friend – who happens to be a priest. The same priest who runs the anti-abortion group where my wife works. Word travels fast.’

‘I’m so sorry. If you want to get home and talk this through …’

I had one, and only one, thought right now: fuck them.

I said:

‘Let’s hit the road.’

fourteen

ON THE DRIVE up Jackie ranted non-stop. Threatening legal action against the protesters who stopped her from entering the USC clinic, against the charity that Elise worked for – on the grounds of ‘endangering my sanity’ – and against me.

‘This man has done nothing except try to help you,’ Elise said. ‘You make a complaint against him, you start a lawsuit against the protesters, you attack the charity from whom you sought out help … you will be informing the world: all this happened when I was trying to have an abortion to avoid vindictive blowback from my husband because I got pregnant by another man. And you’ll be handing your very unpleasant husband all the cards.’

I stopped myself from letting out an appreciative whistle of admiration for the way Elise had delivered that absolute takedown. I got us onto the highway heading north. To fill the silence that followed I put on the classical station that Elise liked, hoping it would also take the edge off the terrible tension inside the car.

Nothing further was said until we were on the 5 going in the direction of Sacramento. Traffic was building up, but we were an hour or so ahead of the big rush-hour mess. We made Santa Clarita in forty minutes. Around five minutes away from the clinic Elise pulled out her phone and made a fast call, talking in a hushed voice.

‘All’s clear over there, Jackie,’ she then said. ‘They’re expecting you. Do you feel you can handle this?’

‘I want it behind me. I want it done now.’

‘Then it will be done now.’

‘Before we get to the clinic,’ Jackie said, ‘can you find me an ATM?’

‘They take credit cards.’

‘Credit cards leave a paper trail. I’m doing this in cash.’

I found her a bank two blocks from the clinic. She got out of the car. Elise and I watched her use three different credit cards to pull out a significant amount of cash. Back in the car she dropped a wad of bills on the empty seat next to me.

‘Guilt money for me being such a shit,’ she said.

I looked down at the cash.

‘Thank you,’ I said.