October 28th, 1970
We travelled the hundred
miles or so to Aberdeen after last night’s concert ended, as the final
show of the tour would be in a venue not too far out of the downtown
core of Aberdeen.
The band dispersed once we got to the hotel in the city; Clyde and Sylvia, along with Lee and Dale needed rooms. Willie had his own apartment in the older part of the city and Cameron and I took a taxi for ten miles to the house in Cairnie.
As soon as we got into the house, I went to the bedroom. I stripped and got into bed, falling asleep so quickly I didn’t hear Cameron join me.
I had slept, though with troubled dreams and frequently waking. I got out of bed at eight o’clock and stepped into the shower to wash the worry off of myself. Cameron was awake when I stepped out onto the floor mat beside the shower.
He was nude, and watching me as I grabbed the towel from the rack behind the door.
“Yes?” I asked with a giggle.
“Nothing,” Cameron replied, though he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. “I just love you, is all.”
“I love you too.” I kissed him softly and he pulled me back for another tender kiss.
“It’s quite something, what you’re doing. Going to the appointment with Sylvia,” he explained.
“I know what it’s like to go alone,” I mumbled. “And she’s scared.”
“I would have gone with you, you know that,” he assured me.
I nodded, smiling at him. “I know, my love.” My thoughts returned to my time in the hospital, and I shivered despite being warm from the shower. “Anyway,” I continued, “she needs support, and she won’t get it from Dale.”
I let Cameron get into the shower, and left to get dressed.
An hour later, I took a taxi to the hotel and met Sylvia in the lobby.
“I told Clyde we’d be setting up for the party all day, and running errands,” she informed me. “Not too far from the truth.”
“Don’t worry too much,” I told her. “Let’s go outside, the taxi’s waiting.”
Sylvia was administered the test after a short waiting time to see the doctor. He had come back out into the waiting room with her and told us to return in four hours for the results.
We spent the time going around the city, getting some decorations and party supplies. Nothing extravagant, but still enough to make the house feel festive once the band arrived.
By three o'clock, we were back in the waiting room in the hospital. I could tell that the thirty minutes we spent waiting had nearly driven Sylvia mad, because when the doctor called her name she jumped up out of her seat.
She took my hand for support and we walked into a room a short way down the hall.
"Well, Miss Lesdale," the doctor said after he'd closed the door, "the test has been analyzed. Congratulations, you are eleven weeks pregnant."
The doctor swiftly left the room, not knowing that the results were not good news. The door shut behind him and Sylvia burst into tears. I hugged her, a frown on my face, until she had cried herself out.
We left the hospital and took a taxi to the house, not speaking until we arrived at the front door.
"Do you want a cup of tea?"
"Please," she answered.
I led her to the kitchen and put the kettle on. I took two cups from the cabinet and turned to see her sitting at the table with her head in her hands.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I'm living in a nightmare." She lifted her head and looked at me. "I never thought this would happen."
I saw across from her at the table and decided to prod. "How exactly did it happen?"
Sylvia sighed and took a deep breath. "It was just once, in February. I've always thought Dale was cute," she admitted. "We were in England for some recording sessions and Clyde was being distant. Dale walked in on me changing top and it just got out of hand."
I nodded, but said nothing.
"It was just once. I was going to tell Clyde, but Dale begged me not to. He cried, and I was so sad for him that I agreed to keep it a secret," she explained. "But then, a week later, he came into the hotel room when I was alone, and…"
"How do you know it's not Clyde's?" I asked after a moment.
“We always use condoms. Always.”
“And with Dale, there was no thought of it,” I assumed.
Sylvia nodded and a few tears fell down her cheeks. I offered her a tissue and she blew her nose. “What am I going to do?” she wondered aloud.
The kettle began to whistle so I stood and poured the tea into cups. ‘Abortion, or to term,’ I said to myself. “What do you want to do?” I asked.
“Forget this ever happened.”
“You won’t be able to,” I said, perhaps a little harshly.
“I know,” Sylvia answered. She was silent for a long moment before speaking again. “I’m going to get rid of it.”
My heart sank and my envy rose once again. How could she so easily ‘get rid’ of a baby when I’d just lost mine? ‘She doesn’t know, and I won’t tell her.’
“Okay,” I said, trying to hide my emotions as I placed the cups on the table. “We’ll find a doctor who can do it and you’ll get the abortion.”
“You’ll help me?”
“I will,” I answered. I don’t know whether it was duty or pity that made me answer such, or even both, but I knew she would break down if I said no. And, having just gone through a miscarriage with Cameron, I knew she would need help in the process of terminating the pregnancy.
I did my best to occupy Sylvia’s mind with the imminent party, but it didn’t work well. She had a distant look on her face, and I often noticed her standing with decorations in her hands but her thoughts on the moon.
“Sylvia.” I called out to her as the clock neared ten.
She turned and looked at me with confusion on her face.
“You should relax a little. They’ll probably be here in two hours or so,” I explained.
With a loud sigh, she shook her head. “I feel like a wind-up toy.”
I had an idea, then, for something that might help calm her and would certainly take the edge off of my discomfort. I knew it was her decision to have an abortion, but it pained me greatly just the same.
I left Sylvia in the living room with instructions to drink a glass of water and wait for me to return. I went upstairs to my bedroom and searched through the dresser drawers until I found what I was looking for. The biscuit tin rattled when I pulled it out from under a pile of old linens, and I took the sound as a good sign.
“Butter cookies?” Sylvia asked when I beckoned her to follow me into the kitchen.
“If only we were so lucky,” I answered with a laugh. A small chuckle escaped her lips, though she watched me intently.
I pried the lid off of the tin and started to pull out what I needed.
“You keep grass in a cookie tin?” she asked in surprise.
“Grass? What is this, a farm?”
Sylvia laughed then, and I counted it as an improvement. “I don’t even know when the last time I smoked was,” she admitted.
“Well,” I answered with a cheeky smile, “I know when the next time you’re smoking will be.” I looked at my wrist and pretended I was wearing a watch. “In about five minutes.”
I had a joint rolled in less time than I’d said, and it had just passed ten when we walked out the front door and sat on the steps. I lit and took the first puff of the joint before handing it over to Sylvia.
“It’s been a while for you, so take small puffs,” I reminded her. “We want you mellow, not comatose.”
Midnight came and went without a sign of life outside of the house. I had managed to relax Sylvia to the point that she was unbothered when I dropped a saucepan.
“Jesus! Fuck!” I shouted in reaction to the clanging of the metal on the floor. “Butter cookies?” I asked myself aloud. “More like butter fingers.”
Sylvia laughed just as we heard the front door open. A loud declaration of entrance was yelled out to us, and I went out into the sitting room to greet the band.
“Emily! You guys missed a great show!” Lee exclaimed.
Cameron strode up to me and I asked how great it had been. “Fantastic,” he told me in confirmation. He bent his head to kiss me and his lips lingered on mine before he pulled away.
I noticed Clyde glance around, so I answered his unspoken question. “Sylvia’s in the kitchen.”
The band dispersed once we got to the hotel in the city; Clyde and Sylvia, along with Lee and Dale needed rooms. Willie had his own apartment in the older part of the city and Cameron and I took a taxi for ten miles to the house in Cairnie.
As soon as we got into the house, I went to the bedroom. I stripped and got into bed, falling asleep so quickly I didn’t hear Cameron join me.
I had slept, though with troubled dreams and frequently waking. I got out of bed at eight o’clock and stepped into the shower to wash the worry off of myself. Cameron was awake when I stepped out onto the floor mat beside the shower.
He was nude, and watching me as I grabbed the towel from the rack behind the door.
“Yes?” I asked with a giggle.
“Nothing,” Cameron replied, though he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. “I just love you, is all.”
“I love you too.” I kissed him softly and he pulled me back for another tender kiss.
“It’s quite something, what you’re doing. Going to the appointment with Sylvia,” he explained.
“I know what it’s like to go alone,” I mumbled. “And she’s scared.”
“I would have gone with you, you know that,” he assured me.
I nodded, smiling at him. “I know, my love.” My thoughts returned to my time in the hospital, and I shivered despite being warm from the shower. “Anyway,” I continued, “she needs support, and she won’t get it from Dale.”
I let Cameron get into the shower, and left to get dressed.
An hour later, I took a taxi to the hotel and met Sylvia in the lobby.
“I told Clyde we’d be setting up for the party all day, and running errands,” she informed me. “Not too far from the truth.”
“Don’t worry too much,” I told her. “Let’s go outside, the taxi’s waiting.”
Sylvia was administered the test after a short waiting time to see the doctor. He had come back out into the waiting room with her and told us to return in four hours for the results.
We spent the time going around the city, getting some decorations and party supplies. Nothing extravagant, but still enough to make the house feel festive once the band arrived.
By three o'clock, we were back in the waiting room in the hospital. I could tell that the thirty minutes we spent waiting had nearly driven Sylvia mad, because when the doctor called her name she jumped up out of her seat.
She took my hand for support and we walked into a room a short way down the hall.
"Well, Miss Lesdale," the doctor said after he'd closed the door, "the test has been analyzed. Congratulations, you are eleven weeks pregnant."
The doctor swiftly left the room, not knowing that the results were not good news. The door shut behind him and Sylvia burst into tears. I hugged her, a frown on my face, until she had cried herself out.
We left the hospital and took a taxi to the house, not speaking until we arrived at the front door.
"Do you want a cup of tea?"
"Please," she answered.
I led her to the kitchen and put the kettle on. I took two cups from the cabinet and turned to see her sitting at the table with her head in her hands.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I'm living in a nightmare." She lifted her head and looked at me. "I never thought this would happen."
I saw across from her at the table and decided to prod. "How exactly did it happen?"
Sylvia sighed and took a deep breath. "It was just once, in February. I've always thought Dale was cute," she admitted. "We were in England for some recording sessions and Clyde was being distant. Dale walked in on me changing top and it just got out of hand."
I nodded, but said nothing.
"It was just once. I was going to tell Clyde, but Dale begged me not to. He cried, and I was so sad for him that I agreed to keep it a secret," she explained. "But then, a week later, he came into the hotel room when I was alone, and…"
"How do you know it's not Clyde's?" I asked after a moment.
“We always use condoms. Always.”
“And with Dale, there was no thought of it,” I assumed.
Sylvia nodded and a few tears fell down her cheeks. I offered her a tissue and she blew her nose. “What am I going to do?” she wondered aloud.
The kettle began to whistle so I stood and poured the tea into cups. ‘Abortion, or to term,’ I said to myself. “What do you want to do?” I asked.
“Forget this ever happened.”
“You won’t be able to,” I said, perhaps a little harshly.
“I know,” Sylvia answered. She was silent for a long moment before speaking again. “I’m going to get rid of it.”
My heart sank and my envy rose once again. How could she so easily ‘get rid’ of a baby when I’d just lost mine? ‘She doesn’t know, and I won’t tell her.’
“Okay,” I said, trying to hide my emotions as I placed the cups on the table. “We’ll find a doctor who can do it and you’ll get the abortion.”
“You’ll help me?”
“I will,” I answered. I don’t know whether it was duty or pity that made me answer such, or even both, but I knew she would break down if I said no. And, having just gone through a miscarriage with Cameron, I knew she would need help in the process of terminating the pregnancy.
I did my best to occupy Sylvia’s mind with the imminent party, but it didn’t work well. She had a distant look on her face, and I often noticed her standing with decorations in her hands but her thoughts on the moon.
“Sylvia.” I called out to her as the clock neared ten.
She turned and looked at me with confusion on her face.
“You should relax a little. They’ll probably be here in two hours or so,” I explained.
With a loud sigh, she shook her head. “I feel like a wind-up toy.”
I had an idea, then, for something that might help calm her and would certainly take the edge off of my discomfort. I knew it was her decision to have an abortion, but it pained me greatly just the same.
I left Sylvia in the living room with instructions to drink a glass of water and wait for me to return. I went upstairs to my bedroom and searched through the dresser drawers until I found what I was looking for. The biscuit tin rattled when I pulled it out from under a pile of old linens, and I took the sound as a good sign.
“Butter cookies?” Sylvia asked when I beckoned her to follow me into the kitchen.
“If only we were so lucky,” I answered with a laugh. A small chuckle escaped her lips, though she watched me intently.
I pried the lid off of the tin and started to pull out what I needed.
“You keep grass in a cookie tin?” she asked in surprise.
“Grass? What is this, a farm?”
Sylvia laughed then, and I counted it as an improvement. “I don’t even know when the last time I smoked was,” she admitted.
“Well,” I answered with a cheeky smile, “I know when the next time you’re smoking will be.” I looked at my wrist and pretended I was wearing a watch. “In about five minutes.”
I had a joint rolled in less time than I’d said, and it had just passed ten when we walked out the front door and sat on the steps. I lit and took the first puff of the joint before handing it over to Sylvia.
“It’s been a while for you, so take small puffs,” I reminded her. “We want you mellow, not comatose.”
Midnight came and went without a sign of life outside of the house. I had managed to relax Sylvia to the point that she was unbothered when I dropped a saucepan.
“Jesus! Fuck!” I shouted in reaction to the clanging of the metal on the floor. “Butter cookies?” I asked myself aloud. “More like butter fingers.”
Sylvia laughed just as we heard the front door open. A loud declaration of entrance was yelled out to us, and I went out into the sitting room to greet the band.
“Emily! You guys missed a great show!” Lee exclaimed.
Cameron strode up to me and I asked how great it had been. “Fantastic,” he told me in confirmation. He bent his head to kiss me and his lips lingered on mine before he pulled away.
I noticed Clyde glance around, so I answered his unspoken question. “Sylvia’s in the kitchen.”
Clyde gave me a wink and left the room, going down the hall to see his wife.
Willie was the next to speak. He spoke one sentence, but with such conviction that no one disputed.
“I think it’s time to celebrate.”
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