The things we never knew

"My dad told me to never regret anything except what I didn't do. One time, I had an abortion. Is that something I did? Or didn't do?"
I heard that in a movie. I never had an abortion, but my friend did. I didn't ask her much about it, mostly because I was afraid I would make her cry or something. But I always wondered what that would be like. I don't even think she told her boyfriend that she did it. I remember meeting her for drinks a few days after, and she acted like nothing had happened. Nobody ever tells you about these types of things, you know. You're a kid your whole life, riding around on bicycles chasing men driving trucks full of ice cream. Then before you know it your friends are drinking vodka on the rocks to forget that they had a baby inside of them a few days ago.
My aunt told me that my mother had four of them. I never believed it until I was in my twenties. And I saw my mother differently. I think everybody has that moment, when they look at their parents and they aren't the same anymore. Kind of like a show that you loved as a child, then you watch it fifteen years later and it doesn't feel the same. It is the exact same show, but it just feels different. That's when I realized maybe she really did have four abortions.
I don't mean to make it seem like I don't do anything wrong. That isn't true at all. One time during college I didn't have any money. The electric company sent me a letter saying that if I didn't pay they were going to cut it off. It was winter so I knew that I couldn't let that happen. But my whole paycheck had already gone to other bills, so I did something very bad.
I called this boy I knew. He's not a nice boy, but I knew him. And I told him that he could come over that night, and if he gave me some money, he could do stuff with me. You know, in bed. It was horrible, because I didn't love this boy. And I knew when it was over, all I would have is his dirty money in my hand. And I would give that money to another man, who would keep my electricty on and then go home and do things with his wife in their bed. I just hope he loves her.
Love is funny. When I was younger I thought it was something that happened, somewhere along the line of your life, and it made things better and that was it. But love comes in so many ways, and it is so simple and so complicated all at the same time. I think that people take it for granted. And even adults don't know exactly how to handle it. My grandmother loves me, I believe that. But she did things that made me think that she didn't. She used to do things I didn't understand, like lock me out in the snow until I had to break her window in just to get inside. Or yell at me while I was trying to do my homework. Or twist my arm until I got a bruise. All that time I thought she didn't love me, but now I think maybe it's just that no one ever loved her.
Sometimes I wish they told children about these types of things in school. If they could give a warning or something that life is not perfect, then maybe we wouldn't be subject to disapointment. But I guess if they did no one would find the good in anything either.