Rain Dance Read Free Page A

give the abused a voice.
    I sometimes wondered why I resented men. The guys in my life treated me with love and kindness. I pushed back the question and told myself, Who cares. Women need you.
    As I waited to be called, my annoyance grew. Sitting idle was never one of my strengths. Even as a kid I hated to wait my turn. I preferred action and if it didn’t come my way, I found creative ways to start arguments and, given enough time, fist fights.
    What a hassle. Dr. Steele had better know someone who performed abortions and soon. Waiting meant time to think, and I’d done enough of that.
    I shoved away my niggling nerves and calmed myself with the reasoning I had learned in health classes at school and at home all my life: “It’s your body; your choice. The world is full of unwanted and unloved children. Complete a pregnancy only when the time is right for you. Besides, the world is overpopulated anyway.”
    The words helped—sort of like a religious mantra, except I didn’t believe in God. No church or guilt feelings were going to get in my way. The only creed I knew, Eve, my mother, had instilled in me long ago. It involved believing in her, in the superior abilities of women, and in my rights. I struggled with the “me” part. If Eve was never satisfied with me, how could I be? The men in my life adored me. Why wasn’t that enough?
    Eve admitted I was beautiful, but even that didn’t garner her approval. I could still hear her telling me on my tenth birthday, “Your beauty can be a handicap or a powerful tool. Men will see you as someone to control and often make their choices based on your appearance. Use your looks to get to the door of success, then knock it down with your brain. You must always be in control of your body, mind, and destiny. Reproductive choices belong to you.”
    The fire in her heart flashed into her jade eyes when she shared the importance of women’s rights. Eve’s passion. A childish desire bothered the edges of my mind. I longed to be the one she fought for, stood with, and held close. I wanted to be her passion. I didn’t even come in second.
    She molded me from a distance but with determination. She regarded any and all resistance as rebellion. No free thinking was allowed. She badgered me with her beliefs as if I were someone to be converted to her cause at all costs. I questioned her only in my mind.
    Her strong voice echoed in my memory, “I sacrifice my personal life to make the world a better place for you and all women. As a senator I can stop men from holding women back.”
    Sometimes I believed her. Most of the time, I missed her.
    I heard the woman next to me breathe in sharply. I thought she was going to say something to me, but just then the nurse called, “Jonica Johnson.”
    She stood, took a step, then turned back and offered me her magazine.
    When she had gone, my mind wandered again to Eve. Although we enjoyed different styles of clothes and decorating, in the mirror I was her reflection. I hoped when she saw herself in me it helped. I wanted her love, but more than anything I yearned for her to be proud of me. College graduation and passing the bar had worked for a while. But Mike and marriage came between us.
    He made enough money as an architect that he encouraged me to follow my dreams. Eve was certain he had a hidden agenda that translated into me becoming a dependent wife.
    “He will insist his ways are your ways,” she warned.
    Dad enjoyed watching me fall for Mike and get married. He believed our relationship energized me. He was right.
    My father allowed Eve to follow her dreams, standing beside her when she asked and apart from her when she didn’t. He understood that her job demanded times of separation.
    Eve considered my love for Mike a weakness. She didn’t want me to need anyone—especially a man. The independence she wanted for me required complete acceptance of her ideology. No wavering or defining my own way—that had been done by the