Kyra was only 16 years old when the doctor told her. Pregnant. At sixteen. When Kyra got the call from Dr.Stey’s office, she broke down on the bathroom floor. She cried into her mom’s bathrobe and almost choked herself with the sash used for tying it. But a second ring of the telephone brought her to her senses. It was her grandfather on the line.
“Studying well, I hope?” This was his usual greeting.
Kyra cleared her throat several times and managed a “Yes, of course. Mum’s right here, hold on.”
She got up from the floor, looked into the glass and wiped the mascara off her cheeks. Then she poked her head out of the door and screamed “Mum! Its grandpa on the phone.”
All this she did in a daze. She kept looking at herself in the mirror and rubbing her hand over her stomach. The tears were sliding off her cheeks before she knew it. She stared into her reflection until her eyes turned crimson and then in a sudden fit of desperation she threw her hairbrush at the mirror. A sharp crash of the glass brought her mother to the bathroom door. It was locked. Her mother knocked with anxiety.
“Kyra! Are you alright? What was that?” No response.
“Kyra! Did something break?”
Kyra thought about the question and the more she thought about the more she felt like she knew the answer. Something had broken. Something inside of her had snapped. She felt like she was the ghost of the girl that she used to be. She took a long look at the mirror. Her once bright smile had been reduced to severely bitten, bleeding thin lips. Her big beautiful eyes were smudged with tears and her cheeks had black trails of mascara and kohl. She was the epitome of desperation.
She picked up the phone and dialed the one number she knew by heart. It was her best friend, Emile. The phone rang and went on ringing. Kyra had almost given up when she heard a familiar “Hello?”
“Hi Emile. Its me Kyra. The doctor called.” Emile stayed silent.
“And he confirmed”, Kyra continued, “I am pregnant.” Kyra held her breath.
She wasn’t sure if her mother had heard her from outside the bathroom door. She wasn’t sure if she cared anymore. All she wanted to know was Emile’s response. After what seemed like forever, she heard a noise on the other end. It was the sound of the phone being placed back down. Emile had ended the call. Suddenly it was as if Kyra had been brought back to life. The sound of the click on the phone caused something to stir inside of her.
She looked at the mirror for one last time. She managed a smile. A pathetic, weak excuse of a smile. She lifted her right hand, bent over and picked up a piece of the shattered glass. She pricked her finger and watched in fascination as the blood dribbled over her palm. Then she traced the words “It’s never enough, is it?” on the mirror . When the bathroom door was finally broken down by her father hours later, those were the only remains of a girl who had once been whole.