You Don’t Know Me but I Know You

by Rebecca Barrow

  “I know,” Audrey said again. “But—ten minutes. Fifteen, max. Please?”

  For a moment Laura looked like she was going to say no, the lines creasing her forehead a clear indicator, but then she sighed and pointed at them. “Ten minutes,” she said. “And Julian, if I catch you here after that, I’m cutting you off from Adam’s record collection.”

  Julian gave a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and Laura swatted at him.

  “Ten minutes,” she said again, a warning. “Go on.”

  Audrey raced up the stairs and into her room, Julian close behind her. On her bed Marmalade kneaded his paws into the comforter, purring loudly. “Hey, buddy.” Julian lay across the bed and scratched the cat’s head before looking at Audrey. “What’s up?”

  Audrey fluttered her hands in front of her face. Now, she trusted Julian, loved him, let him know all her secrets and hidden sides. And she knew him. She thought she knew how he would react when she said it, but—what if she was wrong? What if she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did?

  “Audrey.” Julian sounded impatient. “What is it? You made it sound all urgent and now—”

  “You’re going to think this is ridiculous,” she interrupted. “You’re going to think I’m ridiculous, but—I think I might be, maybe, a little . . . pregnant?”

  She didn’t mean for her voice to go up at the end the way it did, turning her statement into a question—as if Julian had the answer.

  He sat up now, Marmalade following his hand and meowing indignantly when Julian didn’t begin scratching him again. “What? But—” His voice cracked a little, and he cleared his throat. “Pregnant?”

  Audrey exhaled, lowering slowly into her desk chair. “Yeah. I think so.”

  “Shit,” he said. “But we—”

  “I know.”

  “And that’s not—?”

  “I guess not,” Audrey said. She moved to sit next to Julian on the edge of her bed. “Look, I need you to tell me right now that everything’s going to be okay and I don’t need to freak out; otherwise I’m going to do exactly that. Okay?”

  His smile was a touch too wide to be even a tiny bit believable. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said. “You don’t need to freak out.”

  Audrey closed her eyes and felt her heart rate slow, the blood pulsing through her body less like rapids now. “What are we going to do?”

  “Did you take a test?”

  “No.” She hadn’t gotten that far, had gotten stuck at allowing herself to believe this could be happening.

  “Okay,” Julian said, and Audrey could hear it in his voice, his brain clicking into problem-solving mode, the same way he sounded when he was figuring out why that chord progression didn’t sound right or how to make his amp stop buzzing. “We’ll go after school tomorrow, get a test, take the test. . . .” He paused. “And it’ll probably be negative, and we’ll have worried about it for nothing.”

  Audrey wished she could believe that, but it seemed way too simple. Easy. “And if it’s positive?” she asked. “Then what? Because I feel pretty Positive.” Yeah, the sore boobs and the nausea and the exhaustion, that all seemed to point one way.

  “Then . . .” Julian seemed stumped for a second, and he raked his hands through his windswept hair. “We’ll work it out,” he said after a moment. “Yeah?”

  He slung his arm over Audrey’s shoulder and pulled her into him, pressing a kiss to her temple where her soft baby hairs grew. “Don’t worry,” he said, sounding more confident now. “It’ll be okay.”

  Audrey closed her eyes against the feeling of his words on her skin and nodded. Even though she could hear the nerves in his voice, could see his foot tapping a staccato rhythm on the floor, she wanted to believe what he was saying. If she followed the steps he laid out, if she didn’t freak out, if her body didn’t betray them, then he’d be right. Everything would be okay.

  Marmalade crept onto Audrey’s lap, his claws snagging at her tights. “Off,” she said, gently shoving him away. She looked at Julian. “You’d better go, too. Unless you want the wrath of Laura Vale Spencer to rain down on you.”

  Julian laughed. “I’m good.” He got up, bringing Audrey to her feet with him, and kissed her once on the mouth before pulling away, looking thoughtful. “Although compared to what she might rain down on me if it turns out I knocked up her daughter . . .”

  “Shh,” Audrey hissed, and widened her eyes. “Really? Is this the time for jokes?”

  He raised his eyebrows and gave her the smile she could never resist, even though she hated how weak it made her feel. “Lighten up, Aud. I mean, it’s laugh or cry, right?” It was weird how their positions were switched: usually Audrey was the calm, things-will-figure-themselves-out one, and Julian was the one fixating on the issue, driving himself to the point of anxiety with that methodical mind. That alone tripped a little panic wire in her. But then, she always told Julian things would be fine, and he believed her. Couldn’t she do the same?

  She walked him downstairs and kissed him again on the front step, sliding her hand around the back of his neck while his fingers tickled at her waist, until the porch light flicked on and off three times very deliberately.

  Audrey stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. “See you tomorrow,” she said. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” Julian said. “And remember what I said, yeah? Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “Right.” Audrey looked down at her feet, the smile she tried too tight. “I’ll remember.”

  SEVEN

  The ticking of the clock beat along in perfect time with Audrey’s drumming fingers. They were taking a quiz, on covalent bonds or something, but she’d given up fifteen minutes into it. What was the point in trying when she couldn’t focus at all?

  She bit the inside of her cheek and looked up at the clock: two minutes left.

  People were starting to rustle around, surreptitiously slipping pencils into backpacks and sitting up straight, ready to make a quick exit. Audrey watched Mr. Vargas at his desk, making sure he didn’t see her folding up her quiz and putting it into her bag. No need to hand it in when she already knew she’d be getting a zero, right?

  The bell rang—finally, thankfully—and the room exploded into movement. “Okay, people!” Mr. Vargas yelled over the squeaking chairs and sudden chatter. “Leave your quizzes on your desks, and, guys—don’t forget about the chapter for Thursday, all right? I don’t want to have to go over it yet again. . . .”

  Audrey was already one step out of the room when he started speaking. Okay. She’d done it, day over. Now all she had to do was buy a pregnancy test, take it, and learn whether she’d landed herself in a monumental fuckup of a situation or not.

  Not, she thought. Please, please not.

  “Audrey!”

  Her first thought on hearing Rose’s voice: Please, not right now. I cannot deal with you right now.

  “Audrey! Hello?”

  Audrey hurried along across the parking lot, her book-laden bag smacking against her hip. Almost there, almost there, almost there.

  “Audrey Spencer, I know you hear me! I swear to God, if you don’t turn around right now, I’m going to come over to your house in the middle of the night and—”

  “Jesus,” Audrey hissed under her breath. But she came to a stop, pulling her jacket close around her, and then turned, feigning surprise. “Hey! What’s up?”

  Rose ambled toward her, a thick chunk of her hair slipping over her shoulder and a pair of tap shoes swinging from her fingers.

  “Hey.” Rose gave her a suspicious look. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

  Audrey shrugged. “I guess not.”

  “Whatever.” Rose didn’t look at all convinced. “Where were you at lunch? You totally disappeared today.”

  “Oh, um . . .”

  She’d been with Julian, holed up in his car with her legs up on the dash and the cassette player—that’s how old Julian’s car
was, it had a tape deck in it—singing the one Cure song she liked over and over. They’d been working out which pharmacy to go to: not the Walgreens downtown—too close to the theater that Audrey’s mom was director of. And the one closest to school was out, too, since the manager and Julian’s mom belonged to the same book club. They might as well put up a billboard announcing it.

  She looked up at Rose. Usually they told each other everything, good and bad, like how Rose missed her sister a painful amount, or how Audrey had walked in on Adam in the shower. Audrey was the first person Rose had told she was bisexual; Rose was the only person who knew Audrey’s first kiss had been with a way older art student.

  This, though. Something about this felt different.

  “I had to make up a test,” she lied. “I thought I told you.”

  “Speaking of homework,” Rose said. “My Government paper?”

  “Shit.” Audrey found it in her bag and handed it over. She’d borrowed it for inspiration, but she hadn’t even started writing her own paper yet. “Sorry, I completely forgot.”

  Rose held her shoes under her arm as she tucked the plastic, wallet-protected paper into her bag. “It’s fine. But don’t do it again, or you’ll lose all intelligence-borrowing privileges.”

  Audrey attempted a smile. “Sorry.”

  “Forget it,” Rose said. “I have something better to talk to you about anyway. So, if you had been at lunch today, you would have witnessed Olivia . . .”

  Audrey glanced down at her beat-up watch, the leather band so worn that it hung loosely around her wrist. They had to get to the pharmacy, get back to Audrey’s house, and be done with everything before Julian had to get to his shift at his restaurant job.

  “What?” Rose snapped. “Am I keeping you?”

  Audrey looked up into Rose’s pissed-off face. “Um . . .”

  “Are you kidding?” Rose lifted her hands to the sky. “You’ve been MIA all day, and now you can’t spare five minutes to listen to me? God, you’re worse than my sister.”

  “It’s not like that,” Audrey said. “I really have to go. Because I have . . . an eye doctor appointment.” Wow. Talk about unconvincing. Her mom’s acting talent clearly hadn’t rubbed off on her. “But I’ll call you later and you can tell me all about it. Okay?”

  Rose huffed and flipped the hood of her jacket up against the rain that had begun. “Fine.”

  “Sorry.” Audrey sidestepped a tall kid bouncing a basketball, flicking cold rainwater over her shoes. “Talk later. Promise.”

  She glanced down at her watch again—she was supposed to meet Julian at his car, and he was going to be soaked if she made him wait any longer.

  “Go on,” Rose said. “I don’t want to make you late.”

  Audrey tossed her rain-dampened hair out of her eyes and smiled wanly. No way had Rose bought her eye appointment lie, but she didn’t have the energy to worry about that right this minute. She had more pressing matters to attend to.

  Pregnancy test–taking matters. Happy happy, Audrey thought as she left Rose behind. Joy joy.

  EIGHT

  Audrey stared at the selection of brightly colored boxes stacked on the shelves in front of her. “Wow.”

  Julian whistled, a sharp, tight sound. “Wow is right. I didn’t know there were so many different kinds.”

  This pharmacy was smack-bang between both of their houses, so hopefully safe from nosy neighbors and gossip-mongering PTA members. The pink-haired girl behind the counter had smiled at them when they’d walked in, but other than that she hadn’t paid any attention to them.

  “I didn’t know they were so expensive,” Audrey said, picking up one that promised “unmistakably clear results instantly!” “Twenty-three dollars? It’s a stick that you pee on!”

  Julian took the box from her, squinting to read the tiny writing on the back. “This has three in it. Do we need three?”

  “Probably not, but . . .” Audrey made a face. At least if she took all three of them, she’d have a better chance of feeling certain about whatever it told her. She’d definitely have to take more than one, because what if she got a false positive? Or a false negative, for that matter? On second thought, three was an excellent idea. “Let’s get this one.” Audrey held out her empty hand. “I only have my debit card.”

  “Okay,” Julian said. “So . . . ?”

  “So—” Audrey pointed up at the counter and the sign stuck to the register: CARD READER OUT OF ORDER. CASH ONLY. Because of course they would pick the one pharmacy apparently stuck in the Dark Ages.

  “Oh, right.” Julian patted his pocket and his face dropped. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t have my wallet,” he said. “Don’t you have cash?”

  Audrey dragged her nails across the tiny bumps of Braille on the back of the pregnancy test box. “No,” she said. “I thought you got paid last Friday.”

  “I forgot my wallet, Audrey; when I got paid isn’t the point.”

  “Okay, well, I don’t have any cash on me! It’s not like I could ask my mom, is it? ‘Hey, can I borrow twenty bucks? I think I might be knocked up.’”

  Julian leaned in, his gaze jumping around. “Keep your voice down.”

  A contrary part of Audrey wanted to yell even louder now, and she narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t want anybody to know! Isn’t that why we had to come all the way out here? And now you’re screaming it to the whole place.”

  “I’m not—” Audrey caught herself—why was she fighting him over this? So stupid—and stopped, pulling in a deep breath. “Okay. Look, I’ll go find an ATM. Problem solved.”

  She fumbled in her bag until she found her battered wallet and slid the card out. But as soon as she had it in her fingers, Julian snatched it right from her grip. “I’ll go.”

  “J.”

  “I said I’ll go, all right? I know your PIN.” He sidestepped out of reach of Audrey’s hand. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Audrey watched him leave, watched him walk past the store windows with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and his jaw set in this hard line. She placed her fingertips on the shelf edge and strained on her tiptoes until she couldn’t see Julian anymore, only a blurry shape like him disappearing between two buildings.

  “Do you need any help?”

  Audrey fell back onto flat feet and gripped the box of tests tight in her hand as she looked at the pink-haired sales assistant standing there. How long had she been there? And wasn’t it against store policy or something to creep up on the customers? “No,” Audrey said.

  The girl raised her perfectly drawn-in eyebrows. “No?”

  “No. Thank you,” Audrey remembered this time. “I’m just . . . waiting.”

  The girl—Lindy, her name tag read—did this flourish of her fingers and laughed, a pack-a-day rasp. “Oh, I’ve been there. Word of advice: don’t wait too long. One day you’ll open your eyes and he’ll be long gone and you’ll be here. Waiting.”

  The judgment in that one word fell heavily on Audrey, and she almost shook herself to shake the weight and the bitterness of it off. “Oh, no,” she said, making her voice deliberately light. “It’s not like that.”

  “It never is.” Lindy shrugged, pulling a hand through her pink ponytail. “But what do I know?”

  She turned and made her way down the aisle back toward the counter, and the fluorescents made her hair shine almost neon.

  Yeah, Audrey wanted to call after her. What the fuck do you know?

  But it would only be for the sake of being pissed off, for the anger of being called out. She knew exactly why this stranger had taken it on herself to hand out those pearls of wisdom, because Audrey would have done the same thing if their positions were reversed. Well, maybe Audrey wouldn’t have said it out loud, but she for sure would have thought it: Look at her, waiting on some boy. Please get some self-respect.

  It was what she thought wh
en she saw girls hanging around at parties while their boyfriends dealt little tabs and Baggies, when they were crying in the school bathrooms because they had cheated on them, when she saw people her mom’s age talking about the house they were going to buy and the wedding they were going to have “as soon as he leaves his wife” or whatever other excuse they had been given. And she knew it was harsh, so not sisterhood, to judge these girls, but so often it was sadness more than scorn that coursed through her. Because they didn’t need those boys, those waiting girls: they were smart and strong and had the entire world at their feet, if only they could see it. If only those boys weren’t blocking their sight.

  Audrey had never thought she was one of them. When Julian had band practice, she didn’t hang around—he could come and find her when he was done. At parties she took shots with her friends while he played beer pong with his, perfectly happy. But now, here she was.

  With a pregnancy test in her hand, and a boy walking away from her, and maybe this was it.

  She backed out of the aisle toward the cheap makeup. No. I’m not like that. Julian isn’t going to be like that. He was here with her, wasn’t he? And that already made him different from all those depressing teen parent statistics—right?

  Audrey occupied herself by looking at the metallic eye shadows she already had in three colors until Julian returned. He handed back her card with a tight smile that only half of his mouth moved into. “Sorry.”

  Audrey replaced the cap on the pencil in her hand. “Me too.”

  “We good?”

  He held out his hand and Audrey looked at it for a second. Were they good?

  They were about to find out, right?

  She threaded her fingers through his, ignoring the way his palms were sweat damp, and nodded. “Of course.”

  At the counter Lindy rang them up, her nails clacking on the register. “That’ll be twenty-two ninety-nine.”

  Julian handed over the cash while Audrey avoided the girl’s eyes, staring at her nails instead. They were painted the exact same pink as her hair and were covered in tiny silver polka dots. Pretty.