Inside Out

by Grayson Cole

  About three weeks later, she was sure she was getting what he had.

  Tracey went to the center looking for Monica. The counselor sat at the table with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, listening to old Mrs. Walker telling stories about when she was in the military.

  Tracey walked in and waved to her. Monica waved back and motioned for Tracey to wait in her office. She turned her attention back to the older woman.

  After Mrs. Walker walked away with her brown leather purse tucked beneath her arm like a football, Monica entered the office and leaned against the desk in front of Tracey. “You’re off today, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, um…can I talk to you?”

  “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

  Tracey smiled brightly at her as she mustered the courage to say it. Moni beamed back at her but her smile faltered when Tracey’s did. Tracey’s bottom lip started to tremble. She dropped her head into her hands.

  “Tracey?” Moni’s voice was urgent and worried as she placed a warm hand on her friend’s shoulder.

  “I think I might be…be…” Tracey couldn’t get it out. She just couldn’t. She hugged her arms around herself and rocked.

  “Oh, my God, Tracey. Who? Alex?”

  Tracey looked up, confused for a moment about who she meant. When it dawned on her, she shook her head quickly. “No, of course not.”

  “Well, who? You haven’t mentioned anyone to me all this time. I didn’t even know you were, well, you know…in a relationship with anyone.”

  “I, um, I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Why in heaven’s name not?” She squatted in front of Tracey and took her hands.

  Like a child, Tracey shook her head and pressed her lips together.

  “Tracey, if you think you’re pregnant…” She lowered her voice on the last word. “You should—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You came here, Tracey. You came to me to talk about it.”

  True, but this pain had changed that.

  “I’m gonna go home, okay?” Tracey stood and started out of the office.

  Moni slipped around her and blocked the door.

  “Tracey, tell me.”

  Stubborn silence.

  “I hope you know how much I care about you.” She stepped closer and threw her arms around Tracey. “You can tell me anything. Anything. Did someone hurt you? Were you—”

  Tracey couldn’t hold on to it alone anymore. She told Moni everything, from the very first day she and Garrett met to the way he came after her, to that night when he introduced himself at Rachel’s.

  “Damn, Tracey.” She sat at her desk with Tracey slumped like a rebellious teenager across from her.

  “Have you talked to your folks?”

  Tracey shook her head.

  “Have you talked to him?”

  Tracey shook her head.

  “Are you sure you’re…?”

  Tracey nodded.

  “Didn’t you take precautions?”

  “Yes, we almost always used something. The couple of times we didn’t I figured we’d be okay because I was on the pill.”

  She processed the information. “You might not have anything to worry about. It might be a false alarm.”

  “I don’t think so. I stopped taking the pill and still no period. Plus, I had the morning sickness before I even thought that was what it was. My clothes don’t fit anymore. I know it.”

  “That would make you at least two months, maybe more. Tracey, you know we have the facilities here, we can find out for sure.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m telling you what to do.”

  “I’m not ready yet.”

  “Tracey! How old are you? You’re a grown-up, thinking, rational woman. You are not like the girls I talk to in this room. You know what you have to do.”

  “I know. I just can’t…I just can’t do it here, today.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, if I let you out of here, you have to promise me to do it either at home or somewhere before the week is out. I know you probably feel safer not knowing, but things like this don’t go away in time. They can’t.” Tracey just sat there, unable to speak, trying so hard to keep that lump in her throat down. Monica wiped the tears streaming down Tracey’s face. “Think about if you are. Would you want to deny the baby proper care just because you didn’t want to face it?”

  Tracey hadn’t thought of that. Wincing, she assured her friend, “I’ll do it. I’ll do it today.”

  “Here?”

  “No. No, I’d feel more comfortable at home.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Tracey shook her head.

  “Okay, sweetheart, okay. Just give me a call one way or another.” She hesitated, scratching one of her forearms. “You know, you have to talk to him. Even if this hadn’t come up, you would still have to talk to him ’cause you were wrong for what you did.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. Walk a mile in my shoes and all that.”

  “That’s selfish, Tracey. I swear, I don’t even know you.”

  That hurt. “You do.”

  “I’m not so sure. You hid this relationship from me when all I’ve wanted to be was your friend. I don’t know what you thought of me, but not enough to know I’d be fine with whoever you chose to be with. It didn’t have to be Alex. I just thought you might like him.”

  Paralyzed again, wanting to say something, to apologize, Tracey remained stony and silent.

  Monica sighed. “My feelings about this aren’t the issue. You got him into this relationship with a promise that you would get over all your hang-ups, but you didn’t.”

  “I thought I would.”

  “So you thought it. It was still an unrealistic, immature assumption on your part, and very unfair to him.”

  “I really don’t need you to tell me that.”

  “Apparently you do,” she replied. “Especially since he made the effort for you. And you could have at least given me a little credit that night at the restaurant. What did you think I was going to do? I can’t speak for Sabrina, but I know that if you have someone that makes you happy, then I’m happy.”

  “Moni, I’m sorry. I truly, deeply am.”

  Monica acknowledged her statement but plunged ahead. “You’ve got to tell him. You have to confront him and have closure on this, no matter what the outcome of the test is.”

  Then Tracey said what had been on her mind for such a long time: “I don’t have to tell him.”

  Moni’s look of horror would have come off as quite comical if the situation weren’t so serious. She didn’t say anything, but the look she gave Tracey was enough. The following silence in the room was so thick, it inspired claustrophobia.

  Monica cut through it, saying, “Tracey, listen. You don’t have to tell him, you don’t have to tell anyone. Hey, you don’t even know yet. But if it’s true and you still don’t say anything…You don’t have to if that’s the way you want it, but I don’t think it’s right. And professionally speaking, you are headed for much more heartbreak than you’ve had up to this point.”

  “Yeah,” Tracey muttered.

  Before Tracey left Monica hugged her hard, expressing her forgiveness in the form of a kiss to the cheek.

  Outside, Tracey got in her car. She knew what she had to do.

  * * *

  That night the phone sat cradled in her lap for three straight hours, pelted by perpetual tears. She had to call him and tell him. If she didn’t, Tracey couldn’t, wouldn’t, forgive herself. But if he knew, what would he do?

  She grabbed the phone and tapped out the numbers without even looking at them and pressed the cold plastic to her face.

  “Tracey!” His voice washed too much brilliance over her. He was so happy for what she concluded were the wrong reasons. Fool that she was, she couldn’t stop her belly from flipping over
just from the sound of his voice.

  She mustered her courage again and said, “Garrett. I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Well, what? You want me to come over? I can be there in two seconds.”

  “No, I don’t want you to come over. You probably won’t want to after you hear what I have to say.”

  “What is this, Tracey? If you’re calling to tell me what I’ve already figured out for myself, I don’t want to hear it. If you called to tell me—”

  “Listen to me, damn it.”

  “No, you listen to me. You can’t expect—”

  “Garrett, I’ve missed my period.”

  “What?” His voice was so low she could barely hear him.

  “I missed my period four weeks ago. I didn’t think anything of it. I’m not always regular. But I’m due for another one and it hasn’t come, either.”

  “Oh, God,” he breathed and she could imagine him laying his head in his hands.

  “I’m not sure, though. I haven’t been tested yet.” Why the hell didn’t I get tested before I called him? she thought.

  “I’m coming over.”

  “No, don’t!”

  “Bye, Tracey,” he said and hung up the phone.

  * * *

  “Who was that?”

  Heart, pounding, Garrett looked over at his sister. Then he looked at her roommate—now his roommate—sitting at the computer desk playing some pointless role-playing game.

  He wanted to tell Angie, but it was too soon to say anything to her, and he would never talk in front of Mr. Brain Dead.

  “I gotta go.”

  Angie’s brow creased with confusion. “Where?”

  “None of your business,” he answered and put on his shoes, grabbed his jacket and wallet, and headed out.

  “You going to crank the car up with your finger?”

  Garrett snatched his car keys from Angie, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and flew out of there.

  He got to the corner pharmacy in what had to be record time. He ran in and went down the aisle of condoms and lubricants and intimate ointments. With shaking hands, he picked up one of the home pregnancy kits and flipped it so he could read the label. His eyes barely focused and, for just a minute, he thought he was going to start hyperventilating. How the hell was he supposed to know which one to pick? And why were they so expensive?

  Rett bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

  Keep it together, man. Keep it together. If she’s not pregnant, then there’s nothing to worry about. If she is…

  An image of Big flashed in his mind. Right behind that one came one of his mother, Mary Margaret, and her side of the family.

  He ran a hand over his face. Those thoughts wasted time and energy. All efforts needed to be directed toward getting what he needed, getting to Tracey, and praying to God she was not pregnant.

  He grabbed a box of every kind of test he saw, ignoring the money. He’d use his credit card and cross that bridge when he got to it, too.

  Careful not to drop his cargo, Rett walked to the counter in the back of the store. No need to purchase them up front where God and country could walk in and see him.

  Lucky for him, there was no line. He spilled the boxes onto the counter and forced a smile at the older Middle Eastern fellow behind the counter.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” The pharmacist held up a placating hand. “I will be with you in one moment.”

  Rett realized too late that he had brushed past another customer in his haste. He turned slightly and should have received an award for his ability to hide how startled he felt.

  “Dr. Burke?” The pharmacist gestured and Burke came forward.

  Reflexively, Rett reached for the boxes on the counter.

  “No, no.” The pharmacist halted him. “You may leave those there. This will take but a moment.”

  Rett cursed under his breath but stepped back.

  “Mr. Atkins,” Alexander Burke greeted him.

  “Dr. Burke,” Rett returned.

  The attorney looked down pointedly at the boxes on the counter.

  Rett felt all the muscles in his body go rigid. He thought about the first time he’d met Tracey. She had been the absolutely cutest thing he’d ever seen propped up against the wall. Even with her feisty attitude, he’d found himself lost in her big brown eyes and her shy smile. And she was so smart, and she had been everywhere under God’s sky and could talk about anything. Rett actually liked listening to her talk. But she made him so angry. Furious. And yet, Rett loved her absolutely, with everything he had in him. He thought about watching her have dinner with Burke at Rachel’s. She was gorgeous that night, more so than he’d ever seen her and enough to make him take another step toward having her in his life for longer than a semester or two.

  Burke might have felt that way about her, too.

  But it would never be a reality for the older man. Never.

  Rett puffed out his chest and raised his chin with a smile.

  Chapter 20

  Twenty minutes after she hung up the phone with him, Rett barged into Tracey’s house with a grocery bag in hand. He emptied the contents out onto the table in front of her and said, “I didn’t know which one to get, so I got them all. You should have seen the cashier.” He looked at her as she stood paralyzed staring down at the little red, blue and white boxes. He stood there a minute longer, then came around the table to sit beside her. He took the pillow she was holding from her arms and replaced it with his body. For a long time, he held her and whispered into her ear that everything would be fine, no matter what happened. Tracey couldn’t bear the support, the concern. She started a brand new style of wailing and he just held her tighter.

  When she felt able to speak again, she asked, “Why are you so good to me?”

  “Hell if I know,” he replied and stood, taking Tracey with him. He grabbed several of the tests and walked her to the bathroom. He took her in, gave a few encouraging words, then disappeared behind the door. Tracey took down her pants and sat down on the cold stool.

  She picked up one cardboard box and read the back of it. It had a five percent chance of being wrong. She wondered if she was in that five percent.

  She opened the test and took out the sealed plastic envelope and the instructions. She read and re-read them. They weren’t that hard. She opened another and the instructions were pretty much the same. One just peed and held the little stick in the stream. She took two tests at once. She wiped and stood, pulling up her pants with her one free hand. She flushed. Tracey didn’t look at the tests and put them in the dry sink without looking at them. She opened the door and Rett stepped in. She looked at him, not the sink. “What does the first one look like?”

  “Two stripes in the window,” he said. Tracey looked at the test to see if it was true.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “What’s that mean? Is it positive?”

  Tracey nodded.

  “The other one’s blue,” he said.

  She looked at the other one. She didn’t want there to be two lines. She didn’t want one stick to turn blue. She didn’t want to be pregnant, but she was.

  With trembling hands she picked up each test put them back into their boxes and threw them in the trash. She started to wash her hands. She was at a loss for what to do, what to feel. Then the dreaded tears started to flow.

  “Tracey.” He reached for her.

  She jumped away from him and fell into the wall, banging her elbow. It hurt. She turned and rammed her thigh into the corner of the sink. That hurt, too.

  Garrett ran a frustrated hand through his hair, but he stayed. He tried again to reach for her, to comfort her. Garrett Atkins. Prince Charming in shining armor on a white horse. Tracey was so angry all of a sudden that she couldn’t think. She didn’t even know why she was angry. And that made her more angry. She pushed him away from her and went into the bedroom. She crawled into the bed and rolled up into a ball. He followed her and sat nex
t to her. He put his arm around her curved back and waited for her to open up. She lay there for what seemed like hours until she did open up and let Garrett take her into his arms. He stretched out alongside her. Tracey didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she woke up he was in the kitchen cooking. She walked in and leaned against the refrigerator.

  “How you feeling?” He placed some onions in the skillet. They gave a fragrant hiss as he pushed them around in the popping oil. He added peppers.

  “I’m all right, I guess.” Tracey closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her waist, wondering how big it could get.

  “You know, I had morning sickness,” Rett said.

  “I heard.” He looked up at her quizzically. “Well I knew you were sick. I saw your roommate in class. I thought sympathetic pregnancy was a myth. Who knew?”

  “I went to the doctor and he couldn’t find anything wrong. Said I was the picture of health. He said I was acting just like a man who was about to have a baby. It was funny at the time. He asked me if it was Kim. I told him that it couldn’t be…” His words trailed off and he seemed to have run out of them.

  They held each other with their eyes. She began, “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not just your fault. We both had our share in this.”

  “That’s true, but I took the responsibility of—I don’t know how it happened. I mean, I was on the—”

  “I know how it happened,” he answered, still holding her gaze. “Antibiotics. Antibiotics often render some forms of oral birth control ineffective.” Her eyes widened, and he held up his hands and argued, “I didn’t think of it then. And to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have known it had I not just finished reviewing a case where the very same thing happened.”