For Better or Worse

by Jennifer Johnson

  What is wrong with me? It’s like I’ve become a full-blown wimp. These flu symptoms have been going on for too long.

  Kelly stopped in front of the Band-Aids, bandages, medical tape, hydrocortisone cream, and more. How many days had she been suffering from the flu? Okay, I was sick before our Valentine’s date … actually, I was sick more than a week before that.

  She counted days on her fingers. “I’ve been fighting this for well over two weeks.” She took in a long, slow breath. “This is ridiculous. I haven’t run a fever or had any chills. I’m just so nauseated and tired.”

  Kelly grabbed the cream and dropped it into the cart. She continued down the aisle in search of cotton balls. Her gaze took in the display of pregnancy tests. A weight dropped in her stomach. No. She shook her head. No way. That’s not possible. I had my tubes tied five years ago.

  She pulled her pocket calendar out of her purse. Surely, it isn’t possible. She checked each month.

  November?

  Fine.

  December?

  Fine.

  January?

  She searched the days of January. No marks appeared before her eyes. No proof of the days she’d had her menstrual cycle. She flipped the calendar back to December, then counted the weeks to when she should have marked days in January.

  She closed her eyes, trying to remember what she was doing on the days in question. Nothing was coming to mind. Why couldn’t she remember having her cycle?

  Opening her eyes slowly, she stared at the pregnancy tests before her. I skipped my period.

  Glancing around her to be sure no one watched, Kelly grabbed a box and tucked it under other items in the cart. I’m sure it’s nothing, but if I go ahead and take the test it’ll set my mind at ease.

  No longer able to finish her grocery shopping, Kelly sped toward the checkout line. If I were pregnant, I would be far enough along that I wouldn’t have to wait until morning to take the test. I could take it now. The very thought weakened Kelly’s knees. Her heart raced as she got in line behind an older man with a few items.

  “Hey, Mrs. Smith. I can get you over here.”

  Kelly looked up and saw one of her junior students motion her to his line. Empty line.

  Kelly’s heart plummeted. She glanced around to see if there was anyone—anyone—within the vicinity who could jump into his line. No one. She looked at the older man in front of her who had started talking to the cashier and had yet to place the first item on the conveyor.

  “Come on, Mrs. Smith.” She glanced at her student, Jerome. He motioned at her again.

  Her feet felt as heavy as bricks as she slowly scooted toward his line, begging God to send someone to jump in front of her. What would he think when he saw the pregnancy test? Oh, Lord, what do I do? Maybe, I should just take it back and … I know …

  She smiled at her student from her third period class. “Hello, Jerome.” She pointed to her cart. “I forgot to pick up some toothpaste. Maybe I’ll catch you in a minute.” She maneuvered the cart around and headed back toward hygiene products.

  There. I didn’t lie. We do need toothpaste. I’ll pick some up. Then I’ll just wait until his lane is full, and then I’ll get in someone else’s line.

  Kelly grabbed a tube of toothpaste, dumped it into the cart, and then watched the checkout lanes. In only a matter of moments, a woman, probably the manager, had walked over to Jerome, pulled out his money, and closed his line. Breathing a sigh of relief, Kelly slipped into line behind a young woman and a toddler.

  Kelly smiled at the little tike and waved her hand. He turned his face, as if bashful, then smiled one of the sweetest smiles she’d seen in a while. Soon enough, she’d have a grandchild making those adorable faces. And maybe another child.

  Bile rose in her throat at the idea of it. What woman had a child months after her grandchild was born? The thought was ludicrous. Preposterous.

  While his mother stood at the front of the cart fumbling through her purse, the little guy leaned over and grabbed a candy bar from the shelf. Before Kelly could respond, he shoved the wrapper into his mouth.

  Kelly scrunched her nose. “That’s yucky.” She grabbed the wrapper from the child’s hands, hoping it wasn’t too germ-ridden. His lips puckered, and his face wrapped in the most wounded expression she’d ever seen. Wails, louder than tardy bell at school, expelled from the boy, and Kelly practically jumped out of her shoes.

  “I’m sorry.” She handed the candy bar to the child’s mother, who now bore into Kelly with a menacing look. “He put this in his mouth. I’m sure it’s not clean.”

  The woman didn’t appear pleased with Kelly’s decision to save the urchin from the threat of bacteria and virus as she took the candy bar from Kelly’s grasp. She allowed the cashier to scan it, then pulled the chocolate from the wrapper and handed it to the boy. The child looked at Kelly as if she were the proverbial bully who’d taken away the child’s sucker as he smashed the chocolate partly into his mouth, but mostly all over his face. Without a second glance, the woman finished paying and pushed the cart out of the aisle and toward the door.

  The cashier, an older woman with white hair and a quick smile, winked at Kelly. “That guy was too little to eat chocolate.”

  Kelly’s chin quivered as she forced a smile. Usually not that emotional, Kelly focused on taking the items out of the cart. She tried not to look into the woman’s kind eyes as she rang up each item.

  “Hmm. This one doesn’t want to scan.”

  Kelly glanced up and saw the woman holding the pregnancy test. She moved it across the laser once. Twice. Three times.

  “Do you know how much this costs?” She held the box up in front of Kelly, and Kelly felt sure her legs were going to fall out from underneath her.

  Kelly shook her head and opened her mouth to tell the woman not to worry about it. That she didn’t need it.

  The woman leaned into the microphone next to her cash register. “Price check on aisle 12. I need a price check, please.”

  Kelly felt heat flash up her neck and through her cheeks. “It’s okay.” She tried not to beg the woman. “I’ll just get one later.”

  “Well, hey again, Mrs. Smith.”

  Kelly closed her eyes at the sound of Jerome’s voice behind her. Taking in a deep breath, she turned and smiled at her student. “Hello, Jerome.”

  The cashier shoved the box into Jerome’s hand. “I need you to go find out how much this pregnancy test costs.”

  Kelly gripped the cart with all her strength, praying her legs didn’t give out from beneath her.

  “No problem.” Jerome waltzed toward the pharmacy section and returned within moments. He quoted the price and handed it back to the older woman. “See you Monday, Mrs. Smith.”

  Kelly nodded as she pulled her debit card from her purse. She paid the bill then took the receipt from the cashier. The woman winked again. “You’ll be a wonderful mother.”

  Kelly couldn’t respond. She raced to her car, loaded the bags, then sped to her house. Shoving the pregnancy test into the bottom of her purse, she took a deep breath then marched into the house.

  “Mom, I—” said Brittany.

  “Don’t forget—” said Zoey.

  Kelly stalked past them. “Sorry, girls. Gotta go to the bathroom first.”

  Shutting and locking the door, Kelly swallowed the knot in her throat. She tried not to think about Jerome and what he thought or what he’d say. She tried not to envision a litany of teenagers scoffing at the pregnancy of their “old” English teacher. The one whose teen daughter was also pregnant. She dug into the bottom of her purse and pulled out the box. With trembling fingers, she opened the test and read the instructions. “Times have changed,” Kelly mumbled, “I don’t have to wait until the morning anyway.”

  After getting the test ready, she closed her eyes. “God …” What did she say to Him? She was too old to have another baby. Thirty-eight, for goodness’ sake. She was going to be a grandma. And yet she was s
till a woman. And there was still this small, slight, microscopic piece of her that wanted for the result to be positive. To see what Harold’s child would look like. To cuddle her own newborn once more.

  “God,” she started again. “You know.”

  She took the test. Staring at the result, tears welled in her eyes. How can a woman feel happy and sad, scared and excited? She gripped the side of the bathroom sink. Staring at her reflection, that of a thirty-eight-year-old mother of three daughters and soon-to-be grandma, her heart raced as if it were about to explode. “I’m pregnant.”

  After pushing the front door open, Harold tucked the dozen long-stemmed, red roses behind his back. He and Kelly hadn’t been able to make up their Valentine’s date, and though they’d spend this evening at Brittany’s basketball game, he still wanted Kelly to know he longed for alone time with her. His bride of two months stood at the kitchen sink, her back to him. He sneaked up behind her and wrapped his free arm around her waist. She jumped and turned, but once recognition dawned in her gaze, Harold pressed his lips against hers.

  “Harold,” she whispered into his lips, and Harold longed to pull her closer.

  Instead, he revealed the roses and handed them to Kelly. “We were never able to celebrate Valentine’s Day properly.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you, Kelly.”

  Kelly took the flowers from his hands and stared at them. Tears pooled in her eyes, and Harold brushed them away with his fingertips. She gazed up at him, and Harold expected her to thank him for the flowers, to declare she loved them, that he was wonderful for remembering red roses were her favorite. Instead, sadness lingered in her gaze. She seemed to hide herself behind a new wall that she built between them. But for what reason now?

  They seemed to be settling into a routine as a family. Zoey, though still a pregnant teenager, had recommitted herself to God and seemed to be handling things well. Brittany and Candy thrived in school and in their activities. He couldn’t think of a single reason for Kelly to shut him out. Unless she just wishes she hadn’t married me to begin with.

  He shook his head. He wouldn’t allow his thoughts to go there. Quite frankly, it didn’t matter if she did feel that way. He’d made a commitment before God, family, and friends. He vowed to love, honor, and cherish her in the good times and in the bad times, for better or for worse, and she’d simply have to learn to love him again. No turning back. The two were one flesh.

  Unable to get a good grip on the frustration he felt, Harold strode down the hall. He looked in Candy’s room. “Are you going to Brittany’s game tonight?”

  Candy looked up at him and frowned. He knew his tone was too terse. She hadn’t done anything to upset him. “No. I have a project due tomorrow. I’m staying home with Zoey.”

  Harold should have asked her about it, but he still felt such aggravation toward Kelly that he simply nodded and made his way to Brittany’s room. He knocked on the door. “It’s time to go.”

  “Okay. I’ll grab my stuff. You get Mom.”

  He strode into their bedroom and saw Kelly sitting on the bed. Red rims circled her eyes. “Harold …”

  Harold didn’t want to hear. He was tired of all the emotions, of all the crying and whimpering. Things didn’t have to be as hard as his four women were always making them. He’d brought Kelly flowers. She had no reason to cry and shut him out. And he’d had enough of it. He pulled a few tissues out of the box and tossed them to Kelly. “Here.” His voice was tense, angry, but he couldn’t help it. “Clean up. We’ve got to go.”

  Without a backward glance, he stalked out to the car. In his anger, he’d forgotten his coat. He didn’t need it. Frustration warmed him to his core. He started the car and waited for Kelly and Brittany to join him. Soon, they slipped into the car. The ride to the game was silent. Brittany seldom talked before she played, and Harold couldn’t think of anything he could say to Kelly that would be in any way kind. Obviously, Kelly felt the same way.

  Once at the game, Harold followed Kelly into the gym. They sat in their usual spot, midway up the stands on the right side. Harold smiled and nodded at the usual parents who joined them in their normal places as well. Within moments, the girls’ team had emerged from the locker room to the shouts and cheers of the hometown fans.

  Determined not to think about Kelly, Harold watched Brittany as she warmed up with her team. He felt such pride when his stepdaughter dribbled the ball from one hand to the other with ease. It was something she and he had practiced multiple times over in the driveway the past summer. Kelly’s girls had become like his own children; he could only imagine how much more pride the biological dads of these girls felt.

  “Hi, Ms. Smith,” said a tall, African American boy scaling the steps beside them.

  Harold looked at Kelly. Her face turned bright crimson as she merely nodded then peered down at her feet. Harold furrowed his eyebrows. That’s not like Kelly. Normally, she smiles, waves, even strikes up conversations with her students. She’d always been the friendliest teacher he’d ever seen when she saw her students in public settings.

  Maybe that kid’s a troublemaker. Harold glanced up the stands at the boy. The guy looked familiar. If Harold’s guess was right, he was the one who worked at their local grocery store. Harold studied the boy a moment longer. Yeah. That’s definitely the kid from the grocery. He’s a great kid. Why would Kelly act so funny with him?

  Harold peered at his wife. Desperation traced her features. He couldn’t fathom what was wrong with her. He touched her leg. She jumped. He frowned. “Kelly, what is wrong?”

  “Nothing.” The word came out loud and a note higher than she usually talked. “I’ve just got to go to the bathroom.” She stood, and Harold watched as she walked down the steps then out of the gym.

  Harold sighed. God, I have no idea what is going on with her. He propped his feet on the row in front him then leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. He rested his chin on his fists. I’m just going to focus on the game.

  He gazed up at the scoreboard. The game would start in less than two minutes. Brittany and her team had huddled around their coach by the bench. Harold couldn’t help but chuckle at how much taller Brittany, a freshman, was than the rest of her teammates. Though still one of the weaker players, due to being thin and not fully matured, Brittany started as the center for the team. Brittany’s dribbling skills warranted her a position as a guard, but the team’s desperate need for a strong center won out, and Harold found himself trying to help his fifteen-year-old stepdaughter beef up in weight and strength.

  With only seconds left on the clock before the game started, Kelly made her way back up the steps and sat beside Harold. Too frustrated to talk to her, Harold didn’t ask if everything was all right. She wouldn’t have told him anyway. The woman had spent more time shutting him out in the two months of their marriage than she’d spent opening up to him in the year they dated. This should be the most exciting time of their marriage, and yet Harold found himself growing more confused and flustered by his new wife.

  Harold clapped while the other team was announced and stood and cheered when it was Brittany’s team’s turn. The teams lined up on the floor, and Harold howled when Brittany got the tip-off. He watched the game intently, no longer thinking about Kelly and her odd reactions of late.

  “Hi, Mrs. Smith.”

  Harold looked over at the aisle. Two girls stood beside Kelly. The one talking smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Jerome told us he saw you at the grocery.”

  Kelly’s face blanched, and she shifted in her seat. “Hello, girls.” Kelly gripped her purse strap and twisted it. “I see Jerome at the store all the time.”

  Jerome. That’s the boy’s name from the store. Kelly’s apprehension at talking to the girls stumped Harold. He peered back up the stands at the African American boy who’d spoken to Kelly earlier. He was standing, crossing his hand in front of him and shaking his head. He mouthed the word “no” repeatedly, and if Harold guessed right, it appeared Jero
me was looking at the two girls talking to Kelly. Harold looked back at his wife.

  “Yeah, but this was a couple of days ago.” The girl’s expression was arrogant and a bit bratty. “He said he had to help you with a price check.”

  The blond beside the girl giggled then shifted next to her friend.

  “Jerome helps with price checks all the time.” Kelly’s voice had a fearful lilt to it. It almost sounded like panic.

  “Yeah, but what did Mr. Smith think about this price check?”

  The girl’s tone was sarcastic and disrespectful, and Harold opened his mouth to tell her that it was time for her to go on back to her seat, when Kelly jumped up. “Excuse me, girls.”

  She pushed past the girls, nearly raced down the steps, and out of the gym door.

  The girl looked at Harold and huffed. “I take it that means you don’t know about her price check.” The girl turned to her friend and shrugged. The blond giggled again and tugged on the mouthy girl to head back up the steps. He heard her mumble to her friend. “Poor guy.”

  Harold frowned. What could possibly be going on with Kelly and some price check? And why would she let that teenage girl talk to her in such a disrespectful way? In all the time he’d known Kelly he’d never seen her show a moment of weakness in front of one of her students, but tonight she practically ran out the door.

  Harold looked up at the teenage girl. He had half a mind to stomp up those steps and tell that child she needed to find her teacher and apologize. He took a long breath. The girl didn’t know him. He didn’t know her. Kelly shouldn’t have let her talk like that. It was almost as if she had something to hide from him. But why is she always trying to hide things from me, God?