Mary-Jane's big decision

“What do you mean, ‘pull the plug,’” Mary-Jane asked indignantly. “It isn’t right that you brought us here. We shouldn’t have to decide this for him. Why would Cooper want me to decide that for him? I haven’t seen him in twenty years, and he puts me on his medical power of attorney. He didn’t ask me. I never agreed to this. I won’t decide for him or anybody.”

“Fortunately, dear, if there were a need to make such a decision for you, someone more accommodating would be making it,” Kayla stated calmly.

“Don’t you get snotty with me,” Mary-Jane snapped.

"Stop it both of you." It had come from the most unlikely of places; Mary-Jane couldn't believe she had heard those words, and in such harsh tones too, fall from the little ferret's mouth. Wilma was easy to forget, being as quiet as she is.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Mary-Jane asked in a tart tone.

Wilma glared at her.

Wow, she does have some fire in her, Mary-Jane thought.

Wilma said tightly, “I think you’re rude and inconsiderate. We were all close to Cooper, so stop acting like you’re the only one who deserves to be here.”

“So little ferret found her voice,” Mary-Jane said, words dripping sarcasm, “how sweet. Considering I’m still married to the bastard, I am the only person that belongs here. Although you’ve missed my whole point, I don’t want to be here!”

“Yes, I haven’t seen a good girl fight in a while. Please, don’t hold back.” Freddy said with a hint of humor.

"Don't interrupt, dike." Mary-Jane spat.

“Stop it.” Kayla said, “Cooper’s in a coma, he is the only important person in this room. Does that description apply to any of you?”

Mary-Jane glared at her, she thought, Who is this bossy person? She said, “So, why did you get the job of wrangling us together to decide if he lives or dies?” Mary-Jane asked suspiciously.

Kayla replied, “I thought I told you; I’m his only living relative. Unless Wilma can deny or dispute that fact.”

 “How do you know about…,” Wilma’s voice from shock.

“Your son,” Kayla finished.

“Son,” Freddy and Mary-Jane intoned together.

“Yes, Cooper and I had a son. He died when he was five.” Wilma corroborated.

“So, what secret are you hiding, Kayla?” Mary-Jane asked with a smirk on her face.

Kayla gave her a look that could freeze the Susquehanna, “If we are revealing secrets, Mary-Jane, then let’s hear yours. I’m sure it’s better than any I can come up with,” Kayla replied.

“Maybe you thought no one noticed that scar there on your neck.” Mary-Jane showed pearly whites as Kayla brought her hand up to her neck covering the scar., “there’s no need to your scarf now; your secret is out.”

“Is it?” Freddy asked jovially. Wilma nodded her head in agreement.

“God, are you two that stupid. The scar,” Mary-Jane said, emphatically.

Deflated, Mary-Jane took a step back, not wanting to do this anymore. Her life with Cooper was unique; what did these women know. She deserved better than this. Cooper had told her, 'You're worth it,' and she had believed him. But he had had secrets. People she should have met. People that she should have gotten to know. Then it occurred to her, 'Who had they known together?' All of their friends, where her friends, all she met before they had moved in together. She opened her door, and Cooper moved in, but he never brought his true self.

“Mary-Jane, we need you to help decide. Where are you going,” Kayla said as Mary-Jane turned and approached the door. Mary-Jane stopped, hand on the knob, beyond was escape all she need do twist the knob and pull; in here were the remaining shambles of a life unfulfilled. She decided she wanted to leave it behind, and without turning to look at them, she said, "Pull the plug," and then walked threw the door.
 
Three Weeks Ago
After four rings, the message machine clicked into life. Mary-Jane heard her voice talking with succinct words, "This is Mary-Jane I am…." Mary-Jane closed her eyes, ignoring the phone until she listened to his name. She hadn't heard it in ten years, and she didn't recognize the voice from which it came. Mary-Jane reached for the phone near her bed before the woman hung up.

"Hello."

The person on the other end replied with a curt, "Are you screening your calls?"

Taken aback, Mary-Jane said, "Ah…no, I was asleep. Sorry."

"Well, I'm sorry to wake you. My name is Kayla Sharp. I'm Cooper's cousin." That call from that woman created the crack in the dam holding back a lake of feelings that she had no desire to swim in. For ten hours now, she had been sitting there on the window bench looking out at her spacious backyard: thinking. Just before she ended the curt call, Kayla had said, "Copper's requested we all read his last manuscript, I sent it overnight FedEx, and you'll receive it this morning."

The dam had broken, the flood of memories washed over her. It was a muggy day when she left. They had agreed on the separation: had known it to be the best for both of them. But like a sore that won't heal: the pain festered still buried in her soul. So she sat there knowing that she needed to deal with it, had waited far too long. The sun filtered through the large maple tree warming her face as she sipped her coffee. It reminded her of that day, and she could see it clearly.

"So you're going to live in DC, then?" Cooper said.

Mary-Jane thought he was only half interested, but she gave him her brightest smile anyway, "Yes, I've written my new phone number and address on a slip of paper and placed it on the refrigerator."

"When are you going to get it done?"

"Is that all that you're worried about?"

“Well, no,” she knew he was lying just to keep here talking, “but it would be nice to know when it's going to happen. Help me get it off my mind, you know." Cooper said with a sheepish look on his face.

"I'll call you when it's over Cooper." Mary-Jane said, descending the remaining stairs and handing her suitcases to the taxi driver. She absently rubbed her stomach. She imagined the baby moving inside her, then quickly pushed the thoughts away. She couldn't take care of a baby. Cooper was far too immature to be a father to a child; it had to go.

"You know you didn't have to move out. There are plenty of places to get it taken care of here in New York. We don't have to break up." Cooper said.

Mary-Jane halted as she got into the taxi, his comment struck her as odd; they had discussed this at length last night. Sometimes Copper's brain couldn't wrap itself around particular concepts, concepts that were, for whatever reason, to broad and at the same time as thin as a wafer. He tends to lose a bit of himself whenever faced with a tough situation, she thought. She tried to be angry at his lack of feeling, but pity was all she could muster. Pity for the child they would never know or see. Pity for the fear she knew he felt but is too stunted emotionally to express. Pity because she knew he would never be able to understand or feel his loss. But, she couldn't wake up to Cooper's face every day after the abortion. I just can't.

It would be a daily reminder of the child she would never get to see. She'd wonder, would it have been a boy or a girl, would the child's ears have that same cute dimple in its right ear lobe like Copper, would it have her Asian features or favor his German ancestry, would it have her strikingly blue eyes, would it have an amalgamation of their noses. No, she couldn't stay with him. "You know it won't work anymore. Goodbye, Cooper."

Mary-Jane slipped into the backseat of the taxi, as the car engine roared and a pang of regret clutched at her heart, she turned looking out the rear window. Cooper stood on the stoop, a look of sadness, at least she wanted to believe it to be sadness, on his face, watching as the taxi faded into the distance, Mary-Jane held his stare as Cooper faded into a memory: for now.