We ended up having a big sleepover at my flat that night. Cara was too upset to go home, and no one wanted to be alone that night. When she was a kid and sick, I would let Cara sleep in my bed; we did the same thing now that she was sick over what she had done. I worried that she wouldn’t be able to drop off to sleep, and went for the Night Nurse I kept in the bathroom, but Cara did manage to fall asleep unaided.
Kate had offered to share the guest bedroom with Niamh, but she insisted on taking the couch. I could tell she wanted to punish herself for having spoken ill of me. I knew I should, but I didn’t have time to talk with her. I wanted to stay by Cara.
I have always wanted to take Cara to church with me, but today wasn’t the day. After the night we’d all had, I knew Cara wasn’t up for it. She felt too ashamed, and besides, she wasn’t a fan of church. My mother had to force her to go when she lived at home, and Cara hadn’t set foot in one in years. I prayed to God for strength, and went to consult with Kate.
She was up, getting ready for church. “Quite an evening,” she said to me as she opened the guest room door to my knock. I helped her make the bed while we talked, still reeling from the revelations of last night. I tried to find words to describe how I was feeling and what I wanted to do with Cara, but Kate shook her head. “We’ll have time to get her to church,” she assured me. “Not today, but with counselling and care, she’ll feel better. She’ll probably want to go herself, without us having to prompt her.”
I was going to say I hoped so, but I remembered how it had been with me. Kate had looked after me, but it took time before I felt moved myself to go to church. I remembered that one Sunday morning, when I had felt like going to church, even though Kate hadn’t texted me a reminder the night before. Her face lit up when she saw me walk in. She said she had been feeling bad, as she had forgotten to call me the night before, but there I was. Seeing me, she said, she knew God was working. I hoped God would work in Cara’s life, as He had done in mine. Being able to read my mind as she always did, Kate gave me a hug in the guest bedroom.
“Just like He called you to Him, He’ll reach out to Cara,” she promised.
I felt like rejoicing, but Kate and I had been trying to keep quiet, to let Cara sleep. We slipped out into the sitting room and were surprised to find Niamh up. She had straightened out the couch and cleared away the bedclothes, and was waiting for us.
“Can I come to church with you?” she asked. Kate and I were gobsmacked.
“This is a situation I never thought would have happened,” I admitted with a little laugh. Remembering what I had felt about Niamh, and what I learned last night she had thought of me, it seemed impossible. Niamh blushed, and started to apologise to me again.
Kate took control of the situation, and cut Niamh off mid-apology. “I’ll take you to church,” she told Niamh, taking her arm and steering her towards the door. “Lisa and Cara will stay home today. We’ll talk this afternoon.”
“I’ll call you,” I promised them. After I had called the Samaritans, and made arrangements for Cara. Niamh had written down the names and details of counsellors and support groups, but asked me to get Cara to a doctor. It was best to have a physical examination to see if she needed medication. I wasn’t sure where I could find a doctor on Sunday morning, but Niamh had some emergency contacts. She suggested I take Cara to a hospital, but I knew that wasn’t an option. I knew my sister, and in the cold hard light of day after the night we’d had, she wouldn’t be able to face many people.
I took a deep breath after Kate and Niamh had gone, and then I checked in on Cara. She was still asleep, but looked troubled. She had wrapped the sheets up to her chin and was curled into a ball, the way Mum used to find her after she’d gotten into trouble as a kid. Seeing her like this, reminded me how much I needed to get her help.
I made breakfast, even though I suspected Cara wouldn’t want to eat. I wished I had someone to talk to for advice, but I couldn’t call my mother or sisters. I wasn’t sure if we would ever talk about Cara’s abortion, but it was certain that we wouldn’t now. I checked the clock on the cooker and saw that it was after eleven. I knew that we had has a long and emotional night, but Cara should be awake by now.
I went back to the bedroom and looking closely, I could see that Cara was hiding under the bedclothes. It was just like when she was a child and didn’t want to go to school – Cara never pretended to be sick, but asleep. It never worked then, and it wasn’t working now. I sat on the bed and pulled the duvet back.
“I made coffee,” I said gently.
Cara hid her face in the pillows. “I don’t want any.”
“You’re going to have to get up,” I told her, pulling the pillows away. “I know you don’t want to, and I know you don’t want to talk, but it’s going to happen.” I took her into my arms where she cried and sobbed. After all the crying she’d done the night before, I was surprised she had any tears or energy left. I could see that I was going to have to take a page out of Kate’s book and take charge. I held Cara out at arm’s length and gave her a small shake. “You’re going to get up, and we’re going to get you some help.” I took the box of tissues from the bedside locker and handed them to Cara. A shower was out of the question – she would just dawdle in the spray, wasting my hot water and patience. I let her blow her nose on a tissue, and then I pulled her to her feet, leading her out to the sitting room.
“We’ll take it slow, but we’re going to do it,” I said, reaching for the phone. Cara started to cry again, and I knew I had to act as much like Kate as I could; that woman could handle any situation! “Blow your nose again,” I ordered Cara, and dialled the number of the first emergency doctor on the list. “We need a medical assessment,” I told the doctor’s receptionist on the other end of the phone. “Women’s issues.” Those two words worked like magic – I needed to say no more. We had an appointment in an hour.
Cara didn’t want to eat or talk. To tell the truth, I didn’t want to know the details yet. I had no idea who the father of Cara’s aborted baby was – the last I knew of Cara’s social life was some dates she had last year. From the timing, I figured that person was the father, but I didn’t want to know anything more. Keeping an eye on the clock, I tried to make light, airy conversation.
“Niamh went to church with Kate,” I told Cara. She gave me an angry look and poured herself some coffee. “What?” I asked, perplexed.
“I’m not going to church,” Cara declared.
Like you’re in any shape to make decisions, I thought. Again, I thought of Kate, and bit my tongue. I had to let God work in Cara. I shrugged at her. “Okay.”
She was a little surprised that I wasn’t pressuring her to go to church. She paused in drinking her coffee – if we were in a silly TV show, she would have spit it out. She put down the mug to look at me, but she didn’t say anything.
“Drink up,” I advised her. “We’re going in five minutes.”
Again, this woman at my table morphed into a scared child, peering at me with frightened eyes. How she could go from sullen atheist to baby sister in seconds was incredible. Her chin was wobbling. “Lisa, I don’t want to-“
I finished that sentence for her in my mind. Go to the doctor. Face the music. Get help. I steeled myself and handed her the coffee mug. “Drink,” I said firmly. No ands, ifs or buts. I couldn’t get Cara to church, but I would take my sister to a doctor to get her started on post-abortion care.
For a split second, I pondered the situation. My little sister had had an abortion, and was too ashamed to take care of herself, or even ask for help. I never would have dreamed that this would be a reality I had to deal with, but here it was. God, help me… “Come on, get your coat,” I told Cara. “Let’s go.”
It was only when we got to the doctor’s surgery, and I was looking at the brass nameplate on the door that I wondered if I had done the right thing. Dr John Conroy – shouldn’t I have looked for a female doctor? One look at Dr Conroy, who opened the door to us himself, reassured me. He was a gentle-looking older man, very grandfatherly with half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. He smiled warmly at us, inviting us into the examination room. An older woman in a cardigan was waiting for us in there.
“My wife is my nurse,” Dr Conroy explained. She smiled at us, then clicked her tongue at the doctor, taking the glasses from his face.
“Those are my reading glasses,” she told him scoldingly, pointing to a pair a glasses neatly folded on his desk. “Those are yours!” She chuckled and shook her head at us. “Men!” she murmured.
Although the sight of Dr and Mrs Conroy set me at ease, Cara was in a near panic. I could guess that she didn’t want to have to tell a pair who had probably just celebrated their silver wedding anniversary that she had had an abortion. “Maybe I should wait in the reception area,” I suggested, hoping that taking the older sister out of the picture might help the situation somewhat. Cara shook her head violently at me, and grabbed my arm in a vice-like grip.
The Conroys exchanged a glance. “It’s all right,” the doctor said to Cara in a soothing voice. “There’s nothing you can tell me that would shock me. I’ve been practicing for over thirty years.” They probably had a good idea of why we were here – Cara’s rigid silence screamed girl in trouble-unplanned pregnancy! I patted the hand that Cara was gripping my arm with.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Mrs Conroy asked, and again, Cara said nothing, just shook her head. I fought back a groan –I could see that Cara was expecting me to do all the talking.
“I’ll have a cup of tea, thank you,” I said through clenched teeth, and steered Cara into a chair. The Conroys again exchanged the briefest of glances – this was a variation of the scene they hadn’t had seen before in thirty years of practice.
“I’ll get the tea,” Dr Conroy said, a move which surprised Cara and me. He nodded to his wife as he left, and she turned to Cara with a business-like but understanding air.
“Are you pregnant, then?” she asked in a calm voice once Dr Conroy was gone, and immediately patted Cara’s shoulder as she burst into tears. “There, there…”she clucked. “Have you taken a home pregnancy test?”
Cara just sobbed harder, and I realised I would have to tell the nurse. “She’s had an abortion.” Mrs Conroy looked up at me with concern, and I anticipated her next question. “Over in England, in a clinic.”
Mrs Conroy’s mouth set into a hard line, but she didn’t change her caring expression. “Did they not give you post-abortion care?” she asked Cara. “Did they tell you to have a physical examination a few weeks after, to see if the procedure went properly, and that you’re recovering well?”
It was clear that Dr and Mrs Conroy really had experienced it all! Cara was so surprised by Mrs Conroy’s question that she stopped crying. Mrs Conroy was far from done. “Have you had and exam to confirm that you’re no longer pregnant?”
I had never considered the logistics and practicalities of an abortion before. “Shouldn’t they have done this exam at the clinic?” I asked Mrs Conroy.
She sighed. “If it was a rushed job, like a lot of Irish abortion cases are, women just wanting to get in and out and back home, the clinics just do a preliminary check. Trying to do it yourself when you get home doesn’t work -you can still test positive with a home pregnancy kit for a few weeks after an abortion. You may not be pregnant anymore, but your body is still awash with pregnancy hormones.”
Dr Conroy came back into the room, carrying a tea-tray. He looked at Cara and then at his wife.
“She needs a post-termination exam,” Mrs Conroy whispered to her husband.
Cara found her voice. “I’m not pregnant,” she asserted. “It was months ago!”
In a calm but brisk professional manner, Dr Conroy put the tea tray on to his desk. “You’ll still need an exam, to make sure the termination was properly done and there’s no damage.” He turned to Cara and gestured to the examination couch. “It’s standard procedure,” he assured her.
I felt it was time for me to step out of the room - I didn’t need to see this! “I’ll be in reception,” I told Cara. She didn’t meet my eyes, but nodded. She got up out of the chair and headed for the examination couch. I went out the door, wishing I had taken the cup of tea Dr Conroy offered. In the waiting room, I wondered if I should have stayed, and told them that she needed counselling, but I trusted the Conroys to know she needed. I sat down in chair by the door, reaching out to look through the magazines displayed on an occasional table nearby. I flipped through a two year old Vogue, thinking how I never would have imagined myself in a doctor’s surgery on a Sunday. Checking my watch, I saw that church service would have ended a half hour ago. I wondered what Kate and Niamh were doing, but found I couldn’t concentrate on that. In the next room, my little sister was undergoing a post-abortion physical check-up; I was beginning to wonder if I needed counselling to sort out the emotions I was currently too numb to feel.
I couldn’t imagine having an abortion. No one liked to talk about their private life and contraception, but you had to sort it out if you were going to be sexually active. When I lived with Peter, I was on the Pill; I knew my parents were disappointed that I was living with my boyfriend instead of being married, but I also knew I didn’t want to have a baby. I didn’t see how risking an unplanned pregnancy would make it easier to look my mum and dad in the eye – in for a penny, in for a pound, my dad always said. I had to sort out my birth control. My sister Muiread was the one to broach the subject with me – she was old enough to remember the days when contraceptives weren’t easily available in Ireland. I knew she had had the safe sex discussion with Trish and our brother David, who reportedly assured her he “wasn’t going out in the rain without a mac” – apparently, she had not had the talk with Cara. She probably figured I would be the one to do it, as Cara and I are so close. I sighed, wondering if Muiread would blame me if she ever found out about Cara’s abortion. I closed my eyes, realising I blamed myself.
I wasn’t there for her. I felt so guilty, I started to cry. Why couldn’t she come to me? I sobbed, knowing I would not have known what to say to her. If I couldn’t find the words to talk to people about sex trafficking in the world, how could I give advice or comfort to my own sister in her hour of need? Fortunately, the Conroys kept an open box of tissues in the waiting room, and I grabbed two. I had gone through both of them when Dr Conroy came out of the examination room. He patted me on the shoulder.
“You could use a cup of tea,” he diagnosed, pulling another tissue from the box for me. “Come with me to the kitchen.”
I sniffled and followed him into the house, wondering what I would do with the balled up wet tissues I was holding. He pulled out the bin once we got to the kitchen, and I threw the tissues out. “Mrs Conroy is arranging counselling for your sister,” Dr Conroy told me, filling the kettle. “The examination was fine – there’s no damage.” He smiled at me. “I don’t think I’m breaking doctor-patient confidentiality by telling you that.”
I blew my nose. “Thank you.”
“You might want to accompany her to the sessions,” he suggested, putting a teabag into a mug. “You need to talk about this as well. I can see how important you are in your sister’s life. I know it’s old-fashioned of me to not regard an abortion as a routine medical procedure; I’m not making any pronouncements or judgements, but every time I have a case like this, I’m dealing with very upset people. It’s not an easy matter, whether you’re pro-choice or pro-life.” The kettle boiled quickly, and he poured hot water into the mug. “Milk and sugar?” I shook my head, but took the spoon he had offered me, fishing out the teabag and binning it.
“A lot of people in my church are very vocal about being against abortion,” I told Dr Conroy. “I’ve never felt particularly strong about it…I wouldn’t want to have one myself, but I can’t join these people who want to condemn the person who’s had one.” As I spoke, I realised I now knew someone like that. I teared up again. “I feel like I failed her…I wasn’t there for her!”
“Your sister is a grown woman,” Dr Conroy told me sternly, taking the spoon back from me. “She is responsible for her own actions. You haven’t failed her – you’re here for her now.”
I took a deep breath. He was right, after all – Cara wasn’t a child anymore. I had to stop thinking of her as one – our relationship was going to have to change.
“You’re a good person,” Dr Conroy assured me, dropping the spoon into the sink. “I’ve seen families break up over this; people throwing blame and not speaking to each other. A patient of mine felt she had to move to Australia after having an abortion; her family was so unforgiving.” He shook his head as he poured himself a mug of tea. “It was the right thing to do -if we still had Magdalen laundries, her family would have sent her to one.” He chuckled guiltily. “Now that’s probably violating doctor-patient confidentiality, but I haven’t named names, and you don’t seem like someone who’d turn me in.” I smiled and shook my head. I truly felt lucky that we were able to find such a gentle emergency care doctor.
We were drinking tea at the Conroy’s kitchen table when Mrs Conroy and Cara came in. “Everything all right?” Dr Conroy asked his wife. She nodded, and put an arm around Cara. I saw that Cara had a handful of pamphlets. She could look me in the eye now, albeit shyly.
“I’m afraid she’s forgotten her purse, so could you settle the bill?” Mrs Conroy said to me. I felt a rush of impatient anger – how could Cara be so irresponsible? She’d had her purse with her last night. Once again, I was having to play the responsible big sister and pay for this visit – it was precisely this kind of thing that was going to have to change.
I dug out my wallet. “We are going to a cash machine first thing when we get home!” I told Cara pointedly. She looked at me with incredulity, motioning to the Conroys with her head. She wasn’t happy about being told off in front of the doctor and wife, but I didn’t care. “I can’t always be there to pay your bills!” I said to her.
“Now, now,” Dr Conroy chided. “We can all forget a purse after a bit of excitement.”
Mrs Conroy joined in. “She won’t be making a habit of it.” She ran her hand up and down Cara’s arm soothingly. I bit my lip and handed over the money.
“Remember what I said about going to counselling with her,” Dr Conroy said to me as he was showing us out. I nodded and thanked him.
It wasn’t until we were in the car and driving that Cara finally spoke. “Thank you, Lisa.” She took a deep breath, and balled her hands into fists. “And I’m sorry.” I didn’t say anything, and put my hand on her knee. “I’m sorry you had to miss church. I’m sorry I forgot my purse. And I’m really sorry-“
“You don’t have to say it!” I nearly ran a red light, as I was focusing on Cara. She was crying again. I jumped on the brakes, and stared at the red light hanging over us. It was like a light bulb went off in my head.
“Say the red light prayer with me,” I suggested. Cara looked up at me, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. I grabbed a hold of her other hand. “Keep your eyes open…safety first of all. Lord, please help those caught in the sex trade. Please change the hearts of their captors, and their clients.”
Cara was silent, but then cleared her throat. “Please let the police find more enslaved people,” she intoned in a clear voice. “Please free everyone from that life.”
The light had turned green, but I was too busy smiling at my sister. I squeezed her hand. “Amen.” The car behind us tooted their horn, so I drove off.