BooksBarbecue
Back This Time Will Be Different
Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part I
  6. 3
  7. The History of My Beef with Brynn Foer-Preston
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part I
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part I
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part II
  20. 13
  21. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part II
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. The Complicated History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Imaginary Relationship with Her Nonexistent Dad
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part III
  33. 23
  34. 24
  35. 25
  36. A Brief, Backward History of the McAllister Family, as Paraphrased from the San Jose Mercury News
  37. 26
  38. 27
  39. 28
  40. A Quick and Eerily Relevant History of Asians in America
  41. 29
  42. 30
  43. 31
  44. 32
  45. 33
  46. 34
  47. 35
  48. 36
  49. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part IV
  50. 37
  51. 38
  52. 39
  53. 40
  54. 41
  55. 42
  56. 43
  57. 44
  58. A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part II (Or Maybe It’s a Prequel)
  59. 45
  60. 46
  61. 47
  62. 48
  63. 49
  64. 50
  65. 51
  66. 52
  67. 53
  68. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part III
  69. 54
  70. A Note from the Author
  71. Index of Flowers and their Meanings
  72. Acknowledgments
  73. About the Author
  74. Praise for This Time Will Be Different
  75. Books by Misa Sugiura
  76. Back Ad
  77. About the Publisher

I sat in the bathroom in a vortex of panic, at the center of a cacophony of voices that swirled around me: Shit, shit, shit, what am I going to do now? How could I have been so stupid? I am so fucked. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do? My little chorus of demon wasps screamed at me over the other voices: Stupid! Careless! Reckless! Worthless!

I wrapped everything in a giant wad of toilet paper—the box, the test, the instructions—and threw it all into the garbage bin outside the house. Screw recycling. Nothing mattered anymore.

I went to the kitchen and made myself another cup of mint tea. Shut up, I told myself. Shut up, shut up, shut up. Smart, mature decisions, CJ. What’s the first decision you need to make? What would a grown-up do?

As I watched the steam rise and curl around itself, the voices settled themselves down to an angry murmur. On a lot of websites that I read afterward, they make it seem like the decision to have an abortion is an emotional, agonizing one where the woman is racked with guilt and paralyzed with doubt. But after a few sips of scalding tea, I knew I could never have a baby. I was surprised at how sure I was about it. I’d have to be pregnant—okay, more pregnant; visibly pregnant—which was horrifying. I couldn’t imagine that Andy would want to be a baby daddy, even though this disaster was partly his fault, that inconsiderate jerk. I didn’t want to be his baby mama, either, for that matter. I knew I didn’t love him. He’d actually begun to get on my nerves lately—though that could have just been my nerves.

A baby would alter the path of my life forever, and even though I wasn’t sure what my path was going to be, motherhood was not a stop I wanted to make anytime soon. I knew I couldn’t be the kind of parent a baby deserved. And it seemed pointless and even cruel to remain pregnant just so I could give the baby away.

So, okay. I needed to end the pregnancy.

Days 46–60

As Mom often says in her “Powerful Woman” speeches and seminars, it’s one thing to make a decision and a whole other thing to act on it. I did a lot of googling. I learned that I had enough money in my savings account to afford an abortion. If only it wouldn’t send a notification to Mom when I withdrew the cash I would need.