Jane's phone call

I will have this baby, Jane decides. Finally. She looks at the picture beside her bed, on the stand. The one with her entire family smiling in front of the house on the Cape. Her brother throws two fingers up behind her head, just an instant before the flash immortalizes the particular slyness in his smile, the look of surprise and indignation forever on Jane's face. She knows how he will react when told. This is the same brother that drove her home from the prom party she had sneaked out to, disobeying an order given by her father. The entire ride home, the two sat in a silence punctuated by the dips and thunks from the shotty suspension in Michael's Chrysler.
Her silence seemed to her like a defense mechanism. The taste of her first shots of tequila made the world loose and difficult, and she worried Michael would know the second she opened her mouth. She also knew her silence spoke her guilt better than any words. Michael remained quiet as well, only sighing to the beginning of a good song on the radio once, and singing to himself, just being Michael. Later, as they walked up the porch steps, their parents bed room light safely turned out, he put his hand on her arm to steady her, without laughing. She probably would have started crying if he laughed at her, and he knew it. He provided support, which she desperately needed right now.
Her parents were another story, and as she sat looking at the photograph, she desperately sought the right way to tell them, knowing the search was hopeless. She was the daughter who went to church every Sunday since she'd had a memory. She won awards for ballet routines and graduated with honors. Now, she was the unmarried, unattached daughter who was carrying the child of a man whose last name and phone number she did not know. Some ingrained fiber in Jane, a result of her Catholic upbringing, made her cringe with guilt every time her "situation" entered her mind. However, she also felt that her background made her stronger, ready to deal with something difficult. And she knew this was part of why she refused to even think about getting an abortion.
The phone at the bedside rang. She hoped for Michael's voice. Instead, she heard a gravelly voice, a man's voice that she knew after a momvent belonged to Dr. Matuzak, her OBGYN.
"Jane," He said. "You sitting down right now?"
"Yes- I am sitting down right now," Jane replied, glancing at her bedside clock. "Why the late call?" She wished there was some more preperatory advice coming, the cold sweat that she felt in her palms told her sitting wasn't going to cut it.
"I have seen some...problems...in your charts, and, uh some anomalies," Dr. Matuzak said, spitting out each word like they were seeds through a mouthful of watermelon. "And in the X-Rays. Of your uterus.
"I must say, I am very worried about your health and safety if you carry this baby to term. The wisest, safest, course of action at this point would be a to abort the pregnancy. I am so very sorry...Jane?"