Wrong Question, Right Answer

by Elle Casey

  He’s standing at the passenger door looking at me expectantly when I get down to his car. I stop in front of the grille, confused. Does he want me to drive? After what he said, I find that doubtful. “What’re you doing?”

  He opens up the door. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” He steps back, making room for me as he gestures to the interior.

  I tilt my head at him. Is this a joke? “What’s your game?”

  He shrugs. “No game. Just being a gentleman.”

  I walk over, get into the car and buckle up. My ears are burning for some stupid reason. “Whatever floats your boat.” Maybe I should be flattered by his gesture, but I’m not; I’m uneasy. I like our relationship the way it was. I don’t want him changing anything. Why? Because first of all, everybody’s going to notice if he starts acting funny around me, and then May and Jenny are going to get all up in my business with questions and advice and everything else. And second of all, I like the way we work together. Everything is casual, easy. Why does he have to go and complicate things like this?

  He gets into the driver’s seat, sliding in with a grace not many men possess. As he reverses out of the warehouse, he catches me looking at him and winks. “Anywhere special you want to go?”

  I shift my gaze out the windshield. “Wherever. Pub is fine with me.”

  “The pub it is.”

  Lucky navigates the streets of the port and then those beyond. My mind races with different things we can talk about. Work? Television shows? Movies? Never before have I had to search for something to say to this guy, but now I’m second-guessing myself so much I can’t even say a single word. I hiss out a sigh of annoyance.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, turning to look at me for a moment.

  “I hate how this is so awkward.” I also hate that I just said that out loud.

  But of course Lucky takes it all in stride, smiling like he always does. “It’s not awkward. It’s just different. When was the last time you and I were alone in a car together?”

  I have to think about that for a few seconds. “I don’t know. Other than that cab ride, it’s been a long time, I guess.”

  “The cab ride doesn’t count. It’s been over a year. Remember last summer when we went to the state park for a company picnic?”

  I smile at the memory. That was a great day. “Oh, yeah, I remember. Dev had just gotten that beast of a car and he asked us if we wanted to ride along with him, but none of us wanted to be stuck on the side of the road so we said no.”

  “Yeah, and that thing stunk, too. Damn, it was like a musky animal had made a den in it, remember?” He laughs.

  I laugh along with him, enjoying our easy banter. The awkwardness slides away and I hardly even notice. “God, it was like something died in there.”

  “He had to hang all those Christmas tree air fresheners in there for weeks.” He shakes his head slowly at the memory. “I don’t think it still stinks, but some kind of miracle happened in there to get that smell out, I’ll tell you what.”

  “You know how he finally got the stench out, right?” I can’t believe Lucky didn’t hear the story.

  “No. Tell me.”

  “Coffee beans. He poured ground-up coffee beans all over the floor and seats, and two weeks later vacuumed them up.”

  “Really? I didn’t know coffee beans had that kind of power.”

  I shrug, looking at my side window. “Well, you know . . . all those guys use coffee beans to hide the smell of their drugs from the sniffer dogs. Must mean something.”

  The car goes silent again, but this time it’s not awkward. Neither of us says another word until we’re pulling up to the pub. There’s only one other car in the parking lot.

  I look at my watch. “I guess we’re here early.”

  “Fine with me. Only person I’m here to see is you.” Lucky puts the car in park and shuts off the ignition.

  My heart leaps at his words. It’s like we’re teenagers again, only this time we’re flirting, fumbling around, trying not to say too much of what’s in our heads. It feels good, but it also makes me nervous.

  I open up my door quickly, afraid he’s going to come around and open it for me again. I can only take so much of that gentleman crap before I start getting cranky. It makes me think he considers me helpless, and nothing could be further from the truth.

  He follows me to the pub’s front door without saying a word, but at the last minute, he leans in and grabs the handle, pulling it open for me. I just breeze through. If he wants to get my doors, fine. I’ll let him. It’s silly how it kind of makes me feel special. It’s just a damn door.

  As we enter the front room, Lucky raises his hand and signals Danny the bartender. He holds up two fingers and points them down at our heads. We take two stools at the far corner of the bar.

  Danny comes over with two beers, but just as he’s about to open one, Lucky holds up a finger. “Wait.” He looks at me sideways and then smiles before turning his attention back to Danny. “Don’t open those. We’re on the wagon now, I forgot. Bring us two juices instead.”

  Danny lifts a brow at us. “Two juices? What kind of juice?”

  Lucky strokes his beardless chin. “I don’t know. I’ve never ordered juice in a bar before. What’ve you got?”

  Danny rolls his eyes heavenward, giving the impression he’s reading a menu up on his forehead. “Let’s see, we have orange juice, cranberry juice, apple juice . . .”

  “Two OJs.” Lucky looks at me. “That okay with you?”

  “I guess.” I am decidedly unenthusiastic about this choice of beverage, but I know what he’s getting at; if I’m pregnant I shouldn’t be drinking. The whole idea just pisses me off all over again. This maybe-baby is already getting in my way.

  Danny moves away and Lucky leans in closer. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking.”

  I roll my eyes. “At least you didn’t tell Danny that I’m pregnant. I should count my blessings, I guess.”

  “Do you think he knows what’s up?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think anybody would suspect me of being pregnant ever. I’m sure we’re okay.”

  Lucky frowns at me. “Why would you say that?”

  I look at him to see if he’s joking but he appears serious. “Because. It’s obvious.”

  He turns more fully in my direction. “What’s obvious? Spell it out for me, because I’m not getting where you’re coming from.”

  I turn to face him so he can get a better view. “Look at me. I’m not mom material. I don’t even like kids.”

  A flicker of something that looks like pain passes over Lucky’s face before he’s smiling again. “Are you kidding me? You look like you could pump out a whole litter of pups.”

  I snort and roll my eyes, turning back to the bar. “Ridiculous.”

  Lucky goes quiet for a little while, but then he nudges me again. “How come you don’t like kids?”

  I shake my head, looking down at the bar, sliding my fingernail along a scratch in the top of it as I speak. “It’s not that I don’t like them; I think it’s more that they don’t like me, and I’m cool with that.”

  “What? That’s crazy. Kids like you. Dev’s son likes you. Jenny’s son loves you. Sammy thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his life. He told me just the other day he’s going to marry you when he turns ten.”

  I laugh, my cheeks going a little warm. I have no idea why this embarrasses me; he’s just a kid. “I think the little guy needs glasses.”

  Lucky mumbles his response under his breath. “No, there’s definitely nothing wrong with his eyesight. Trust me on that.”

  I glance at Lucky, but he’s not giving me any more information and I’m not going to dig for it. I shrug, going back to picking at the bar. “I just never saw myself as a mother. I’m too selfish.”

  He shakes his head but stares straight ahead. “I’m not buying it. I think you’re just scared.”

  I snort. “Me? Scared of a
baby? Please.” But my heart does thump a couple times extra hard at the idea of holding one of the little buggers. I’d probably drop it and break it. Nobody should ever let me hold a baby. And this is exactly why I should never be pregnant. I would be the one mother in the history of the world not capable of holding her own child.

  “We need to find out if you are or not,” Lucky says out of the blue. “Because if you’re not, we could order some beers and really get this party started.”

  I smile at that idea, liking it way more than orange juice. “Yeah. Let’s get this party started. That sounds good to me.” I could drown a few of my sorrows right now.

  He spins around really fast on his stool and looks at me with his eyes wide open. “That’s it!”

  I look at him with suspicion. “What’s it?”

  “We need to get you a pregnancy test! We need to test your urine.”

  I screw my brows up at him. “You can’t be serious.”

  He hops off his stool and holds his hand out. “Of course I’m serious. Let’s go.”

  I stare at him, not sure what I should do from here.

  He wiggles his hand, urging me to take it. “Come on. I’m serious. Let’s go.”

  I look over at Danny, who’s walking over holding two glasses filled with orange juice. “But our drinks . . .”

  “Forget about ’em. We’ll come back.” He leans in and takes my hand, pulling me forcibly off the stool. “We’ll be back in a little bit,” he says to Danny. “Keep those on ice for us.”

  Danny pours the two orange juices out into the sink, rolling his eyes at us as we go by.

  “Sorry,” I say, forcing an expression of apology.

  I’m not lying about being sorry. I would much rather be sitting at the bar drinking stupid orange juice than getting a pregnancy test. I don’t want to fight Lucky about this here and have everyone at the bar watching us, but I’m not going to go do this with him. This is crazy. I’ll break the news to him outside and he can just leave me here alone.

  Lucky laces his fingers through mine, and I feel silly all of a sudden, like a schoolgirl, thrilled that her crush is acknowledging her feelings and returning them. I’m so absorbed in this ridiculous emotion that I don’t even notice we’re already at his car. He opens the door and gestures for me to go in, dropping my hand.

  “Hurry,” he says, “I want to get this over with.”

  I put my hand on top of the door and look at him over the window. “What’s the big hurry? It’s not going to change the result.”

  His smile is lopsided this time, not as certain as it normally is. “The curiosity is killing me. I just need to know.”

  I shake my head as I lower myself into the car. “Whatever.” It’s got to happen eventually, so I guess it might as well be now. But I’m no longer in the mood to chitchat or share details of my day. I buckle myself up and just stare out the front windshield.

  The atmosphere in the car is tense once again as Lucky drives off. He probably doesn’t even notice it, as intent as he is on getting to the drugstore, but I do. My skin is crawling with it. Thankfully, it’s only two blocks to the nearest store, so we’re there before I know it. He throws the door open and exits the vehicle.

  “I’ll be right back,” he says, his face in the half-open window. “You don’t have to do anything but pee.”

  I sit there in the parking lot, my head swimming with thoughts, most of them of the panicky variety. I can’t believe we’re doing this. It’s like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, and we’re all excited about something because we have this big future plan together. But that’s not my life, and that’s not Lucky’s life, either. We’re just friends. Teammates. People who grew up together. He’s not my boyfriend and I’m not his girlfriend. And if I am pregnant, it’s going to be a nightmare. So why is he acting so excited? Maybe he’s just looking forward to getting a negative result on the test so we can both have some drinks and then go home and get busy. I guess that’s not such a horrible thing. I wouldn’t mind another roll in the hay, so long as he’s gloved up.

  He’s back to the car in a flash, and he tosses a white plastic bag in my lap as he gets in. It’s full of boxes.

  I open the bag. “What’s in here?”

  “I couldn’t buy just pregnancy tests; that would have been too awkward.” He pauses for a moment and looks at me, smiling. “I got some licorice, too. And some condoms.”

  I laugh. “That clerk must’ve thought you were nuts.”

  “He did look at me kind of funny. I got the impression he wanted to give me a lesson on the birds and the bees.” He feigns an old man voice. “Son, I think you’re confused about something . . . If you got one, you don’t need the other . . .”

  As worried as I am about the results of this test, I can’t help but laugh at him. He’s always been that guy for me—the one who could make me laugh even when I didn’t want to.

  “So, where should we do this thing?” I ask, looking around. We’re traveling back in the direction we came from.

  “These things, not this thing. Plural. I bought several, just to be sure.”

  I open the bag again and see that there are in fact three different boxes in there. I turn one over. Inside this particular box there are two test-sticks. I verify it’s the same with the other boxes before speaking. “You have six tests in here.”

  “You can never be too sure.”

  “But you can have only so much pee in one bladder.”

  “Hmm . . . you may have a point there. We may have to down a few glasses of orange juice for my plan to work.”

  When he pulls into the parking lot, my smile slips; I feel something a little like panic crawl back into my heart. “Are you serious?”

  He pulls into a space, puts the car in park, and turns the engine off. “What do you mean? Is that a trick question?”

  I use the bag to gesture at the front of the pub. “Do you honestly want me to take a pregnancy test inside the pub?”

  “Why not? It’s private. There’re separate stalls in the ladies’ room, right?”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “Plus we might need more orange juice, right?”

  I shake my head, knowing arguing is futile. “Whatever. Let’s just get it over with.” I’m almost certain I’m not pregnant. What are the chances, right? We only did it one time without protection, and if the charts on the Internet are correct, I wasn’t even very fertile then. Maybe only a little. God, please let it have been only a little.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun.” He gets out of the car and comes around to my side.

  Fun? He must be insane. My butt feels like it’s glued to the seat. I can’t move.

  Lucky opens my door and leans in, holding out a hand. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

  I slap his hand away. “No, sir, you are most definitely not helping me.” I can just picture him in the stall next to me coaching me through peeing on a stick. I use the inside handle of the door to pull myself out of the car and stand. “I’m going in the bathroom by myself.”

  “Okay, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” He grins.

  I stand there and stare at him, the bag held at my waist with both hands in front of me. “Don’t piss me off, Lucky.”

  He leans in fast and gives me a kiss on the nose. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He adjusts himself to walk at my side and puts his hand onto my lower back, urging me forward.

  Rather than dig my heels in, which is my immediate reaction, I follow along. With every step I take, I feel like I’m walking toward my doom. I have never in my life been in this situation, but in all the stories I’ve heard of other people experiencing it, it was never like this. They were never being led into a bar by one of their best friends with a bag of pregnancy tests in hand. I’m starting to wonder if this is just another part of my punishment, justice for the mistakes I’ve made, for what I did to Charlie. The rightness of that hits me full force, like a sledgehammer in the chest. It has to be.

  I resign
myself to my fate, dropping my head as I walk into the pub and head for the bathroom, preparing myself mentally to face the music. If God is just and God is fair, I will be pregnant, because that would be the worst punishment I could possibly think of for myself.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I cannot believe it. I thought I had resigned myself to this possibility and accepted my fate, but as I stare down at stick number four and see another faint pink plus sign in the window, I realize there’s no way I could adequately prepare myself for something like this. I now know that God may be fair and he may be just, but he also has a wicked sense of humor.

  I rest my forehead on the divider between the toilet I’m sitting on and the empty stall next to me. I am completely out of urine now, but it doesn’t matter. Two more tests or four more tests or ten more tests aren’t going to make any difference. I’m pregnant. What’s done is done. According to the calendar, I could be as many as ten days along. There’s no way for me to know for sure without a doctor getting involved. A fleeting thought floats through my mind. It’s not too late to do something about this.

  My heart stops beating and then spasms painfully. I may not go to church every week, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely oblivious to the things preached there. And I learned how precious life is when I took Charlie’s from him. I can’t take another life away, I just can’t. Maybe God is giving me a second chance and this is a test. Regardless, I don’t really have a choice. This is how it has to be for me. Unless something crazy happens in the next eight and a half months, I am going to be a mother. I start crying and I can’t stop.

  There’s a banging on the outer door that I barely register. I don’t answer. I just drop the used test-sticks into the plastic bag at my feet and slowly stand, buttoning and zipping my pants as the tears continue to fall.

  The door squeaks open loudly. “Are you okay in here?” It’s Lucky, goddamn him.