Black Christmas by Lee Hays

busy here. There’s been a child murdered in the park. Yes. yes, we found . . . Anyway, you should notify the phone company. We can’t . . . Look, lady, I don’t know when we can get a man on it. Were the calls threatening? Oh, yes? Well, I see. Maybe it’s not so serious. Maybe it’s one of your boyfriends playing a little joke. Yeah, well, I’ll report it and we’ll get a man on it as soon as possible. I’m sorry, miss, but that’s the best that we can do at the moment. We’re swamped down here.” He looked up at the crowd of people as he listened to Jess continue to express her concern. Finally, when she stopped, he said again, “We’ll do the best we can okay. Goodbye.”
    Hanging up, he wrote a few words on a form, took another piece of paper from his desk and stapled the two papers together, tossing them into a wire basket beside his desk.
    Back at the house Jess put the receiver back in its cradle and covered her face in exhaustion and frustration. When she looked up Peter was standing there waiting. She walked toward him and together they went into the living room. As they walked he spoke.
    “Look, Jess, I’ve done a lot of thinking and I’ve come to some conclusions.”
    “Hmmm! I’ve been thinking, too.”
    “Wait. Hear me out. I’ve decided I’m leaving the conservatory.”
    Stunned, she said nothing and then, after a long pause, “Peter! What about your music? Your future, everything you’ve—”
    “Look, just hear me out, will you?” When she stopped, he added gently, “Okay?”
    She nodded and he sat down beside her, speaking in a low voice.
    “Jess, I’ve lived in one room for eight years. I’m tired of sharing the ‘john’ with six other people. I really have had it with the artist starving in the garret routine. I’m quitting the conservatory, and we’re getting married.”
    Still in a state of shock she could only look perplexed as she stared at him and then away when his eyes met hers.
    “Well?” he asked. “What do you say? That’s a proposal of marriage, you know? Not the most poetic one ever devised, I know. Maybe I should be on bended knee. But it’s a genuine proposal, from the heart.”
    “I know, Peter. I know it is. Now, will you just listen to me calmly ’cause I have something to say, too. Remember last year, when we met? You told me about wanting to be a concert pianist, how it was your greatest dream. And I believed in your dream, I wanted you to have it. At the same time I told you some of the things I wanted to do? Do you remember?”
    When he nodded she continued, “Well, I still want to do those things. I don’t know why your dream has gone sour, if it has. Maybe it’s just the idea of being a father has made you jump to some sort of a conclusion. But whatever, I respected your dream and I thought you respected mine. Anyway, mine hasn’t gone sour. You can’t ask me to drop everything I’ve been working for and give up all my ambitions just because your plans have changed. It isn’t fair, and it makes my dreams, well, insignificant to you. And it shouldn’t be. It should not have been. Be realistic, Peter. I can’t marry you.”
    “Sure you could. What would it change? Because I’ve decided to leave the conservatory doesn’t mean that you have to drop out. We could be married and you could do anything you want.”
    “With a baby? It just wouldn’t work. I know it. Oh, I know. You’ll say you can do both but I know how much time and trouble a baby is. I know that sooner or later I’d compromise. I’d stop my work and become a full time mother and housewife, and I’m not ready to do that yet.”
    He stood up and began to pace the room. Finally he turned to her and asked, “Well, what are you going to do about the baby?”
    “I’m going . . .” She waited until he stopped pacing and was facing her. “I’m going to have the pregnancy terminated as soon as possible.”
    “Merry Christmas,” he said bitterly and resumed his pacing.