"Again? I never said it the first time."
"Pretty much you did. Say it again."
He exhaled and looked at me fondly. "I kinda love you, you freak."
I smiled, thinking that I had finally succeeded. Marcus was broken. He was mine if I wanted him. In the days that followed, I floundered, looking for a sign, any sign. Should I choose Dex or Marcus? Marriage or sex? Security or fun?
Then, one day in early September, a week before my wedding, I finally got my final answer in the form of two parallel pink lines on a plastic, urine-soaked stick.
* * *
seven
"What's it say?" Marcus asked, as I emerged from the bathroom with the plastic stick in hand. He was waiting for me on his couch while flipping through a Sports Illustrated. "It says… 'Congratulations, Daddy.' "
"No way." "Yes way."
"You're shitting me." "Nope. I'm pregnant."
Marcus leaned back on his couch and closed his magazine. I sat next to him, took his hands, and waited for more. Perhaps an embrace, a gentle touch, a few tears.
"And… you're sure… that it's mine?"
"Yes," I said. "That question is insulting and hurtful. I haven't had sex with Dex since—well, since forever. And you know it."
"You're sure about that? Not even one time this month? It isn't the time to exaggerate, Darce."
"Yes, I'm sure," I said firmly. It was the truth, thank goodness.
I thought of my high school friend Ethan, who is fair and blue-eyed and how he had married his pregnant girlfriend, Brandi, also a blonde. Months later she gave birth to a dark-skinned baby with eyes the color of Oreos. Rachel and I felt so sorry for Ethan—for the heartache and humiliation he had to endure during his divorce. But I actually felt almost as bad for Brandi. For some reason, I identified with her in a kindred, fellow-rule-breaker way. I knew she must have suffered incredibly for nine months, hoping and praying that the baby would come out looking like her husband and not the Native Alaskan she was melting igloos with on the side. The waiting must have been agonizing. Just thinking about it made my stomach turn. So it was a very lucky thing that I hadn't had sex with Dex in at least a month. I was sure the baby was Marcus's.
I put the stick on his coffee table and stared at the two pink lines. "Wow," I said, feeling giddy. "A positive test. I've never seen one of those… and I've taken plenty."
"Should we do another test? Just to double-check?" Marcus asked, pulling another box of tests from the Duane Reade bag. "I got two brands."
"I don't think you get many false positives with pregnancy tests," I said. "It only works the other way."
"Humor me," Marcus said as he tore the plastic wrapper off another test.
I sighed loudly as I retrieved the mug full of my pee from his bathroom.
Marcus's face fell. "You peed in my Broncos mug?"
"Yeah. So?"
"That's my favorite mug," he said, cringing.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, just wash it," I said. "And anyway, haven't you ever heard that urine is completely sterile?"
Marcus made a face.
"Since when are you a stickler for germs?" I asked, looking around his sty of an apartment.
"I'll never be able to drink out of that mug again," he grumbled.
I rolled my eyes and stuck a fresh stick into his precious mug. Then I slowly counted to five aloud, before withdrawing it and placing it on the coffee table next to the first test.
Marcus studied the second hand on his watch until I said, "A cross! That means positive!"
"Lemme see," he said, looking stunned and wide-eyed as he examined the stick, comparing it to the diagram on the back of the box. "It looks kind of faint compared to the picture."
"A faint cross still counts," I said. "It's the whole 'you can't be a little bit pregnant' concept. Here. Read the directions."
Marcus scanned the page of fine print, obviously hoping to find a disclaimer—a section on false positives. A flash of fear crossed his face as he put the directions down, "So what now?"
"Well, for starters, we're having a baby in about nine months," I said jubilantly.
"You can't be serious." His voice had a hard edge.
I gave him a look that told him I was totally serious. Then I took his hands in mine.
Marcus stiffened. "Are you sure that's what you want? 'Cause we have other options."
The implication was clear. I raised my chin and said, "I don't believe in abortion."