The two-story brick building known as Parker Avenue Family Planning sat on the south side of Indianapolis on a tree-lined street with modest homes nearby. It could have housed lawyers or Realtors or several dentists. The only out-of-the-ordinary thing Melissa noticed as they pulled to the back of the parking lot was the number of people on the sidewalk. As they drove by, she shielded her face and tried not to look at them.

The drive up had been quiet. Like a funeral. Brian turned on his favorite rock station, but there was a loose connection he had missed when he installed the radio, and the speakers crackled and popped and finally died.

Brian handed her the cash she’d need and Melissa put the bills in her purse. She couldn’t look at him. She felt cold and numb.

“Melissa, we agreed,” Brian said.

“I know,” she said quickly, stopping him before he could say anything else. She stared at the protesters holding signs and singing. Some looked like they were praying.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “This is just hard for me.”

Brian looked in the rearview mirror. “Do they come to the car or . . . ?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before,” she said, snapping at him.

Two women in light-green scrubs approached the passenger-side door and Melissa got out, the women quickly draping a blanket over her, leaving just enough room for Melissa to see.

“We’re going to put this over your head to protect you.”

They both held radios close to Melissa’s ears, blaring rock music. She assumed they wanted to drown out the protesters. The music did cut out some voices, but as she neared the entrance, in the confusion and hurry, one voice cut through the mayhem.

“Your baby has ten fingers and ten toes,” a woman called out. “Please don’t kill it.”

The noise subsided as they made it to the front desk. The two women in scrubs took the blanket and gestured toward the lady behind the counter.

“Name, please.”

“Umm . . . Melissa Long.”

She placed her driver’s license on the counter, but the woman shook her head. “We don’t need that.”

Melissa thought that was odd. No proof needed of her identity. She put it back in her purse and turned to see Brian standing just inside the door, looking around the plain white waiting room as if he didn’t know whether to sit or go back to the car.

“It’s two hundred twenty.”

Melissa turned back toward the lady, who looked as if she’d already had a bad day. She quickly opened her purse and handed her the cash.

The woman took the money and placed two forms in front of Melissa. “Fill these out and someone will be with you shortly.”