Page 54 of Summer's Echo
My father wouldn’t evenconsiderkeeping the baby. Abortion was the only answer for him.
And my mother? She wasthe only onewho wanted the decision to beours. Helpless. Hopeless. That’s what we were. Until Echo snapped.
“That’s enough!” His voiceboomed,commanding the room, making all four parents freeze. He stood to his full height,taller than both our fathers, his chest rising and falling in deep, sporadic breaths. His jaw was tight, his nostrils flaring, buthis voice was clearwhen he spoke again. “Do Summer and I get to say anything? This isourdoing—ourbaby.”
My father’s glare turned cold. “You’ve said and done enough, young man.”
And just like that, he and Mr. Abara, two men who hadn’t agreed on anything today, were suddenly on the same team. But Echo didn’t care. He ignored them, his long stridesclosing the space between us in secondsbefore kneeling in front of me. His handsfound mine,cradling them, his grip warm.He kissed my fingers, one by one, his lips lingering just enough to make my breath hiccup. I felt his thumbswipe away the tearsI hadn’t even realized had started falling. The world—our parents—blurred into nothing. For a fleeting second,it was just us. Like we were back in our sacred place.
His voice, when he finally spoke, wassoft but sure, full ofa certainty that I didn’t expect from him—maybe not even from myself.
“Summer, I love you.” He halted, scanning my eyes to ensure his message was received. For good measure, he said it again. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that this happened like this, but I think…I think we can do this. We canhavethis.”
Ifroze.We can have this. His words sat heavy between us,full of meaning I couldn’t yet process. My eyes widened,my throat closing around all the words I wanted to say but couldn’t. Becausewhat was he saying, really? We could havewhat? A baby? Withno money, no education, no plan? That wasn’t the future I had envisioned for myself. I was supposed togo to Spelman, major in marketing, become student council president, pledge a sorority, go to parties, live my life, graduate on the dean’s list in four years. A baby withEcho’s tawny brown skin, his full lips, my bright eyes, full cheeks, and dimpleswasn’t a part ofthatplan.
“E,”I whispered, placing both hands on his cheeks, my thumbs brushing away the tearsthat neither of us could stop.
His eyes, full of hope, fear, love, and desperation, searched mine. “We can do this,”he repeated, his voice barely above a breath. Then, he pressed asoft, sweet kissagainst my lips, sealing us inside our own fragile bubble.
Our parents watchedin agonizing silence, their presence barely registering, though I caught Mr. Abara shifting as if he was about to say something. But before he could,my mother raised her hand, silentlycommandinghim to letusfigure this out.
“Echo…we’re only eighteen. We can’t raise a whole human.” My voice trembled, my words laced with aheart-wrenching mix of guilt and finality.
His brows drew together, realization dawning as my words veered in a direction he hadn’t expected.“People do it all the time. We’re the smartest people I know. We can do anything, Sun.” His optimism, his belief in us, ripped me wide open.
I shook my head, lips pinched tight. His hopefulness was endearing, but it did nothing to change my mind. “And people fail, E,”I whispered, my throat raspy.“We had a plan, remember? SpelHouse connection.” The weight of my gaze didn’t just remind him, it called out to him, begging him to remember. To rememberwho we were just a week ago before this. To rememberthe future we were supposed to have.
I saw the exact moment ithit him. The subtle swing in his expression, the way his shoulders saggedjust a little. Echoknew mebetter than anyone, and I could feel it. He already knew my decision. I didnotwant this baby. I had made amistake, and I would carry it with mefor the rest of my life, but Iwasn’t ready to sacrifice my future. Our foreheadsmet, our lipshovered, each conjoined breaththe only air we had left to breathe. And then, I said the wordsthat shattered him.
“I love you, Echo. I am so sorry, but I–I can’t do this. I can’t have this baby.”
He went completely still, his fingers tightening around my waist. His grip was firm, almost desperate, as if holding on to me could somehow stop the ground from shifting beneath him. His gaze locked onto mine—frantic, searching—like he was trying to wake up from a nightmare he didn’t know how to escape. But I didn’t waver. I wasfirm. Resolute. And whenthe finality of my words hit him, I felthis entire body break. His headcollapsed into my lap, his arms clenched around me as hesobbed, raw and heart-wrenching tears. I bent over him,resting my cheek atop his, folding my arms around his shoulders. And together,we cried, our sobsblending into the most devastating, harmonic melody, a sorrowful lullaby that only we would ever sing.
Chapter Twenty-two
Echo
Summer 2005, The Life-Changing Decision
The clinic looked like any other doctor’s office—neutral-colored walls and sterile white floors. Soft, impersonal décor attempted to mask the gravity of why most of the women here had come. Photos of smiling families lined the walls, their joy a stark contrast to the reality of this place. Women of all ages sat quietly in stiff chairs, waiting for their name to be called. Some carried the unmistakable glow of anticipation, their hands protectively cradling their growing bellies, their eyes bright with the promise of new life. Others, though… Their faces were drawn, heavy with quiet sorrow, women weighed down by the life-changing decision they were making.
When I walked through the clinic doors, her eyes found mine instantly. Surprise flickered across Summer’s face, but more than that, solace. She hadn’t expected me to come. She knew my father had forbidden it. But Maxell covered for me, saying he just wanted to get me out of the house. I dropped him off at his girlfriend’s place and drove here instead, gripping the steering wheel like my life depended on it. She studied me, and I studied her. She wore the same dispirited expression that hung in the air of this stuffy, emotion-charged room. Ms. Teresa sat beside her, holding her hand, mumbling what looked like a silent prayer. When her focus settled on me, she nodded, motioning for me to sit. I swallowed, my throat tight and dry, then lowered myself into the seat beside them. I looked at Summer, and she quickly turned away, as if the lines of dejection were written too clearly across my face.
“Quest Knight,” the nurse called. Summer rose to her feet, and my brows knitted together, confused by the name she was responding to.
Then I remembered the small crowd of protestors in the parking lot, their voices chanting over one another: “My body, my choice.” “Your baby has a heartbeat.” I now understood the need for anonymity.Quest. She had used the name of our sacred place. That realization nearly stole the breath from my lungs. It was the name of the place where we became more than just best friends, we fell in love. The place where we made this baby.
“Echo, you go with her,” Ms. Teresa said, pulling me from my thoughts.
I snapped my gaze to her, surprised. She knew how my parents felt about this. She knew I wasn’t supposed to be here. And yet, she wanted me to go with Summer. I nodded, rising to my feet, though my legs felt weak and wobbly beneath me. Summer didn’t look at me as we followed the nurse through the door. The moment we stepped inside the exam room, a faint, unfamiliar scent filled my nostrils. Something sterile, but also sharp—burnt rubber and disinfectant. I swallowed the nausea threatening to rise. The room was cold, unnervingly quiet. We still hadn’t spoken a word to each other.
Summer undressed in silence, draping the thin paper gown over her trembling body before lying on the exam table. I sat beside her, my fingers clenching into tight fists against my thighs. My eyes wandered, landing on the poster hanging on the wall.The Phases of Pregnancy.It was brightly colored, offering an oversimplification of something so impossibly complex. On the section markedWeek Seven, our baby was no bigger than a blueberry. Too small for Summer to feel movement. I squinted, reading the fine print beneath the image.Facial features begin to take shape, with dark spotsforming where the eyes and nostrils will be, and tinybuds appearing for the ears.
A debilitating pang lodged in my chest. Since finding out Summer was pregnant, I had dreamed of a baby girl. I had imagined her with Summer’s round face, almond-shaped eyes, and deep dimples that made everything brighter. But now… My dream morphed into a nightmare. This was real, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“Hello. I’m Dr. Moss. I’ll be performing the procedure today.” The voice was light, almost too cheerful for this moment.
I turned to see a short woman with chin-length blond hair, looking no older than us. She extended her hand to Summer first, then to me. Summer barely lifted her fingers, her grip weak, her entire body drained of emotion.
