Epilogue: What Are The Odds?

Lois Lane stared at the calendar. Like many women, she kept track of her cycle. Normally it was pretty reliable; though she know that morning after pills could screw with the cycle. So she hadn't been too concerned when she blew through the week that Aunt Flo should have come to visit. Too busy at work anyway, the lack of having to fiddle with cramps and tampons was a blessing, really, when she was out pounding the streets.

The missing women had reappeared, although they were pretty close-lipped about where they had been or what they had been doing. The reporter had managed a couple follow-up interviews, vague stories about a trip down to Cancun, which some surreptitious checking seemed to verify. Yet she was sure that there was something else there, some bigger story that she was missing.

Why had four women disappeared down to Mexico for weeks on end without telling anyone?

Still, Lois had what she needed. Wrote her article, and her editor published it. Now she was on the track of something else, some LexCorp consumer products thing that smelled absolutely rotten...but something about that whole scene with the women made her itch. Like a pebble in the shoe.

So the reporter kept in touch. Social media, instant messaging, email, just being friendly, not too inquisitive, waiting for one of the girls to open up. Near the end of the semester, the girls had a night out, and Lois Lane was invited along. Back to the club, back in her tight club clothes, makeup on and hair down. She blew a kiss to the ugly swollen belly of the idol, still living on her kitchen table for lack of anywhere else to put it right now.

"Hey, girlfriend...!" Jenny Dunlap, Tonya Wong, Diana Reynolds, Mara de la Cruz. The girls already had shots, but the reporter had offered to be the designated sober person tonight, and stuck to a stub-nosed glass bottle of Perrier. The girls laughed and joked, admired the guys walking by. When Mara and Jenny slipped off toward the restrooms, Lois made sure to slip a pair of condoms into their hands.

"I wish we had you here last time," Tonya said. "Maybe we wouldn't have had to go to Mexico."

"Shut up!" Diana laughed. "We promised not to talk about that."

Lois smiled, uncomprehending, but her reporter instincts told her now was an opportunity. These women were both well on their way to drunk.

"Why did you girls go down there? Not just to party, I imagine."

Tonya frowned. "More like as a result of partying."

Diana laughed again, in that stage where she had the giggles. Then she started to cry. Lois wrapped her arm around her shoulder, suddenly concerned.

"What did you...oh," Lois flushed, suddenly putting two and two together. She looked at Tonya. "A doctor? A clinic?"

The petite Asian business manager stared at the bottom of her shotglass. "Diana knew somebody. Cash, no records, clean place. In and out, a week to heal on the beach." She stared hard at Lois then. "You won't tell anyone."

Lois shook her head. "No. We won't talk about it again." Her fingers massaged the back of Diana's neck, the sobs dying down.

Four young women, a little drunk, a little careless. Going down to Mexico to get rid of their babies. No, definitely nothing for the Daily Planet there. Lois sipped her Perrier, suddenly glad that she hadn't had a scare like that in college. She wasn't one of those abstinence-only types by any measure, but she knew that no birth control was 100%. There was always a chance that the condom would break, that the drop of precum had viable sperm in it, that conditions were just right...well, what were the odds? You had your fun and took your chances.

The reporter got all four of the young women back home safely. She liked them, but now that she had their little secret, Lois wondered how long they would stay friends. Back up in her apartment she went to the bathroom, bladder ready to burst...and sat there staring at the calendar.

It had been six weeks since her last period.

A little shudder ran through Lois Lane as she realized that. She had taken a morning after pill. That could throw off her cycle. Sometimes periods could skip a month. There was no reason to think...she shook her head, trying not to think of the four girls going down to the abortion clinic in Cancun, of the statue with the gravid belly she had been walking past every day for the last four weeks. Power of suggestion was all. Lois would have her period again this week, or at worst the next one.

After all, what are the odds?