by Cruise, Anna
“You're sure?”
“Yeah.”
“How late?”
“Five days. I think.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched and I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “But you were sick. And you haven't felt right ever since. So maybe your body is just a little fucked up, you know?”
It was a possibility I'd considered for the last five days. I'd known when he left for the series that I was late, the aching dread flaring even more with each passing day. But I hadn't wanted to tell him before he hopped on a plane to Las Vegas. I didn't want him to worry, didn't want him to obsess the way I was obsessing.
As if on cue, he asked, “Why didn't you tell me before?”
I didn't have a good answer for him. “I didn't want to bother you. Worry you.”
“You're my girlfriend, Abby. You're supposed to tell me things. Everything. Remember? No more hiding shit and keeping stuff to yourself.”
I swallowed hard. I knew what he was referring to. The previous summer, when I'd found about Mom's cancer.
“I wasn't hiding it,” I said.
“Well, you didn't exactly have it out in the open.” He shook his head. “Have you tested?”
I hesitated. “No.”
He stared at me, his eyes wide. “Why not?”
“I don't know.” I didn't want to tell him out loud that I was afraid to test. I didn't want to admit that I somehow hoped that, if I didn't think about it and didn't voice anything out loud, the situation would go away and my period would magically come and everything would be okay.
“Jesus.”
I felt the sting of tears. “Please don't be an asshole about this.”
“I'm not trying to be. I swear.” He put his hand on my thigh. “But you've spent—what?—five days worrying about something that isn't a definite. Why the hell wouldn't you just test?”
“I don't know. Maybe I wanted you here. And you were a state away, playing baseball.” As soon as I said the words, I regretted them. His brow furrowed and the muscle in his jaw worked again, his lips pressing into a thin, tight line.
“Fair enough,” he said shortly.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “That wasn't fair at all.”
He stood up and reached for the basketball shorts he'd dropped to the floor. He pulled them on and opened a dresser drawer and fished out a clean t-shirt.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Where are you going?”
He stooped down and found my clothes and tossed them on to the bed. “I'm not going anywhere. We are going.”
I stared at him. “Going where?”
“To the store. To get a goddamn test.”
TEN
WEST
Abby was quiet as we walked down the stairs and toward the car. The streetlights buzzed as we crossed the alley, their light a sickly yellow against the black sky. A dog barked off in the distance and a car alarm blared in response. And I barely heard either of them.
I opened the passenger door to the truck and she climbed into the cab. I joined her, jammed the key in the ignition and drove the four blocks to the CVS on the corner of Garnet.
“You want me to go in here?” she asked when we pulled into the parking lot.
“Why not?”
She looked around. “What if I know someone?”
“So?” I stared at her. “It's not like we're fourteen.”
Her hands were folded in her lap and I saw she was trembling. “I know,” she said.
“You want me to go in by myself and get one?”
“No,” she snapped.
I hopped out and she scrambled out before I could make my way to her side of the truck. My mind was racing, a million thoughts jumbled on top of each other as I walked through the automatic doors. Abby trailed behind me, clutching her purse next to her. A Hispanic guy was stocking boxes of toothpaste and an elderly couple had a shopping cart full of stuff. Other than them, we appeared to be the only two people in the store. I scanned the signs suspended from the ceiling, looking for the right aisle. We turned down the personal care aisle and stopped in front of shelves filled with condoms and pregnancy tests. Abby stood next to me, stone-faced, making no move to grab anything.
I sighed. “Guess I'm picking it out.”
She glared at me. “Why are you being such an asshole?” she hissed.
I held up my hands. “What exactly am I doing that is asshole behavior? You tell me you think you're pregnant. We're getting a test. Seems pretty damn responsible to me. Not asshole-ish.”
“You're just...” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. “You're like on auto-pilot. Like some robot who doesn't give a shit. Like the only thing you want is an answer. A fucking yes or no.”
“Well, I do.” I fingered the keys I was holding. “I mean, you tell me you're five days late. Other than that, we've got nothing. Last I heard, you were on the pill.”
Her eyes widened and her gaze turned murderous. “I still am.”
“So isn't it like ninety-nine percent effective?”
“Yeah, well, that leaves a one percent chance, doesn't it?” She put her hands on her hips, her back ramrod straight, like she was preparing for a fight. “Doesn't it?”
“I guess.” I didn't want to fight. I was so messed up in the head, I could barely think straight. I grabbed a thin white and blue box from one of the shelves. “This one work?”
“How the hell would I know?” She adjusted the purse slung over her shoulder and crossed her arms. “It's not like I've ever bought one before.”
“Uh, me either.” I studied the packaging. It promised accurate test results as soon as the day of a missed period. And there were two tests. I was pretty sure Abby wouldn't mess up peeing on a stick but a quick glance at the shelf indicated most of the packages had multiple tests included inside.
I turned to look at her. “You ready?”
“I'm not taking the test here!”
“I know that. Let's pay and go home and figure out exactly what we're dealing with here.”
I made my way to the front of the store and plopped the test down on the counter. A different employee, a woman I pegged in her early forties, scanned the test and dropped it in a small plastic bag. She said nothing, just held out her hand for the twenty I pulled from my wallet. I pocketed the change and the receipt and grabbed the bag. Abby stood next to me, staring at some magazine cover in the rack next to the cash register.
“All set?” I asked.
She looked up. Her eyes were dark, her mouth pinched, and I felt a wave of something roll through me. I'd been in full-on freak out mode, going on auto-pilot just like Abby had accused me of doing. I hadn't noticed the worry etched into her features, the fear lurking behind her eyes. I was numb from shock. But Abby? She looked absolutely terrified.
“Hey,” I said, gentling my voice. “It's just a test. We just need to do this one step at a time. Okay?”
Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded.
I brushed away a stray tear with my thumb. “We're gonna get through this, Abs. One way or another. I promise.”
ELEVEN
ABBY
West nudged me toward the bathroom. “It will take two minutes. It says so right on the box.”
We were back in his apartment. I had the box in one hand, the other firmly locked in West's grip. He squeezed my hand and pulled me down the hallway.
“Abby. You've waited long enough.”
He wasn't saying anything I didn't know. I'd been a wreck for five solid days. Well, four. I'd chalked up the first missed day to exactly what he'd originally said. I'd been sick and my period had been a day late before. But then day two came and went. And day three. Going to the bathroom became something like a game of cat and mouse. Every twinge, every cramp, had sent me running to the bathroom. And every time, I was met with nothing but a growing sense of dread.
The bathroom door was only partially open and he pushed it with his free ha
nd and flipped on the light switch. The smell of his aftershave and deodorant scented the small space, like it had somehow been absorbed into the walls.
He positioned himself against the wall, the towel rack pressed into his back.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
West folded his arms across his chest. “Waiting.”
“I'm not taking it with you in here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Because I have to pee on a stick!”
He shrugged. “So?”
I felt the heat rise up in my face. We'd seen each other naked and we'd seen each other sick but we'd never—not ever—stayed in the bathroom while the other one was using it. It felt like something married couples would do, something that represented that stage in a relationship that felt old and routine, something I didn't want to get to yet.
“I'm not taking it with you in here.”
A small smile formed but he bit it back. “Alright. But you're going to take it.” It wasn't a question.
“No shit,” I muttered. I set the box down on the vanity and watched him through the mirror, waiting for him to leave.
He lifted himself off the wall and laid his hand on my shoulder as he moved toward the door.
“Don't be pissed.” He squeezed gently. “Not at me. Please.”
“I'm not.”
His other arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me to him. His breath was warm on my cheek as he whispered in my ear. “I'm sorry if I was a dick. I'm sorry you've been worried about this. But the only way we're gonna know what we're dealing with is if you take that test.”
“I know.”
He brushed a kiss along my jaw. “Two minutes, Abs. That's all it will take.” He squeezed my shoulder one more time and then walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was still mussed from earlier and my face had been kissed free of make-up. I saw the bluish tinge in the skin underneath my eyes, the lines creasing my forehead, the firm set to my mouth and jaw. I looked like I was awaiting a death sentence. I looked the way I had when my mother had first been diagnosed with cancer, when life had come crashing down on me with a situation that had been absolutely out of my control.
I was back in that same position. Not the same circumstances but there was something that threatened to completely upend my life and I felt powerless to stop it.
“Abby?”
I turned toward the sound of West's voice. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
No, I wanted to say. I wasn't okay. I didn't know how to feel about what I was getting ready to do. I wasn't a teenager anymore and I was in a committed relationship with someone I was pretty sure I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. But it didn't make taking a pregnancy test any easier. Not when we'd been careful. Not when we were both in college, trying our best to figure out what courses our lives were taking, all while trying to stay together through class schedules and work and baseball.
“Yeah.” I reached for the box. “I'm opening it now.”
I peeled back the cardboard flap and pulled out one of the tests. An instruction manual slid out, too and I unfolded it. My fingers shook a little as I read through the instructions. Unwrap the test, pee on the exposed end, set it down and wait. One purple line meant the test was working. Two purple lines meant I was pregnant.
Pregnant.
I felt the saliva dry up in my mouth as the word sank in a little deeper. That word scared the shit out of me. But it wasn't like it was going to go away. I took a deep breath and unwrapped the test. I set it down on the toilet tank and unfastened my shorts. I didn't have to pee. In fact, I felt as dry as the Sahara. But I grabbed the test anyway and positioned it underneath me. I didn't want to test—I wanted to remain blissfully ignorant—but I knew I needed to. If not for me, then for West.
My fingers shook a little and a warm stream of urine trickled out, surprising me, soaking the test and drenching my fingertips. I finished and set the test on the counter, my hand still unsteady. I pulled up my shorts and stole a quick glance at the test. The first line was already there, solid purple in the window.
I looked away. My heart felt like it was going to thump right out of my chest. I tried to take a deep breath but it caught in my throat and I ended up coughing instead.
“You okay?” West's voice sounded from outside the door.
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know what okay meant anymore.
TWELVE
WEST
I leaned up against the wall in the hallway, my shoulders pressed flat, like my weight was holding up the entire apartment building. I glanced at my watch. It had been five minutes. Not two. She would know by now if she'd taken the test.
All I'd heard was her coughing. Not a full-on spell but a couple of quick coughs, like something had gotten caught in her throat. I'd asked if she was okay and had been greeted with silence. And I hadn't said anything more. I knew it was hard for Abby, knew she was struggling with it. But I was, too. And just because I'd decided to be the grown up and marched her ass down to the store for the test didn't mean that I was handling the potential news any better than she was.
I thought about what might be waiting for me behind that closed bathroom door. I knew I wasn't ready for a baby. Hell, I wasn't even ready to get married. I loved Abby, knew I wanted to be with her, but Christ. We were still in school. She wasn't even old enough to legally drink. I'd had to kick it up several notches this year, be responsible for school and baseball even on days when the only thing I wanted to do was sleep late and go surf. I'd had to sacrifice nights out with Grif and time with Abby so that I could play ball or work with tutors to catch up on all the classes I missed when we had out-of-town games. And that was about all the responsibility I could handle.
The door opened a crack and I launched myself off the wall. Abby didn't step out of the bathroom. I crossed the space between us in three quick steps and pushed the door open. Abby was standing exactly where I'd left her, her hands gripping the edge of the vanity, her knuckles almost as white as the countertop. She didn't look at me.
I dropped my gaze to the slim plastic stick sitting next to her. I hadn't read the instructions but I knew what I was seeing.
“Holy shit.”
She turned to look at me and her eyes were filled with tears. “I'm not ready to be a mom, West.”
I didn't think about the panic that was racing through me or the fact that I sure as shit wasn't ready to be a dad. Instead, I reached for my girlfriend and pulled her close to me, dropped a kiss on her hair as her body shook with tears. I didn't have answers and I didn't know what the fuck we were going to do but I knew one thing: I couldn't just stand there and let her cry. Not then. Not ever.
I led her to my room and sat her down on the bed. She held on to my shirt, her face buried against my chest.
“What the hell am I going to do?” Her voice was muffled.
“We.”
She looked up at me with a tear-stained face. “What?”
I motioned to myself, then back to her. “We. Me and you. Takes two to get into this.”
She sighed and wiped at her eyes. “I guess.”
“Look, it's not the end of the world,” I told her, trying to sound more convincing than I actually felt.
“No?” Abby shook her head. “Pretty much feels like it is.”
“It's not,” I said firmly. I put my hands on her shoulders and straightened her so we were looking squarely at each other. “We have options. A few of them, actually.”
“I'm not ready to talk about options,” she said. She brushed at her hair, tucking loose strands behind her ears. “I'm too numb. Too fucking shell-shocked.”
I nodded. I felt the same way. “We don't have to yet.”
“I just...I just can't believe this is happening.” Her eyes filled with a fresh supply of tears. “I was the responsible one. Me. I'm the one who waited to hav
e sex. Who was super careful. And look what happened. How the hell is that fair?”
“It's not,” I said. “But life isn't fair. You know that.” We'd had a lot of those kinds of conversations after her mom had been diagnosed with cancer, those deep, esoteric talks that had made me fall in love with her a thousand times more than I already had been.
“One day,” she said softly.
“One day what?”
She stared at my chin. “I missed one day.”
“What?”
“When I was sick.” Her gaze moved to someplace behind me. “I missed a pill.”
I frowned. “Missed how?”
“Missed, like I forgot to take.” She brought her eyes to mine and her expression was wary, like she expected me to blow up at her.
“Okay.”
“I slept for two days straight,” she said. “And I know it was a stupid thing to do. I know I should have gotten out of bed and taken the damn pill.”
Hey.” I tipped her chin, keeping her gaze level with mine. “This isn't your fault.”
“Uh, yeah, it kinda is.” She sighed again. “You're not the one responsible for birth control.”
“You're right,” I agreed. “I'm not. But I'm the one responsible for getting you pregnant. So, looks like it's both of our fault.”
Abby's hand was on my thigh and she squeezed me tight. “What are we going to do?” she asked. “I wasn't kidding. I'm not ready for this, West. No way, no how.”
“I know,” I said. I curved my arm around her and brought her close to me. “And I don't know what we're gonna do.”
I felt her stiffen.
“But I do know this,” I said. “Whatever we decide to do, we're doing it together.”
THIRTEEN
ABBY
I'd just stepped out of class and turned my phone off mute when it rang.
“I've tried calling like a thousand times,” Tana said.
I rolled my eyes and adjusted the bag strapped over my shoulder. “A thousand? Your fingers must be really sore.”