The Good Life

EPILOGUE



I stayed in Florida for a week to help Dad take care of Mom while Jake tied up his loose ends in Ann Arbor and finished packing all of our things. Once we were ready to go, Adam took a few vacation days to drive the moving truck. He helped us unload, clean up, repaint and refinish the place. By the time the three of us were done, I had the apartment of my dreams. Well, at least a tenth of the apartment of my dreams, but that was a good start.

Adam wasn’t surprised to find out about Jake and me. He said he had known the whole time, but he pretended he didn’t because he appreciated our subtlety. He was more than happy to leave me in Jake’s care, and Mom and Dad felt the same way.

Jake found a job at a bar in the Meat-Packing District within a week. We didn’t want his business in Ann Arbor to suffer too much, so the plan was for him to schedule shoots on every third Tuesday and Wednesday. He would fly back and forth now that he had overcome his fear of flying. It would be costly, but if it kept his business afloat for a year while I was in school, it was worth it.

I thought he had a good enough portfolio to start his business up in NYC as well. He just needed to advertise. That was why I secretly had some business cards and flyers printed to surprise him. He was good at his job, and I had no doubt he would find success in The City.

Jake loved our apartment, he was happy with his new job, he felt right at home in New York, and he loved me. Everything was falling into place.

The day before school started I made it my goal to have every single box unpacked. There wasn’t enough room in our place to have a bunch of boxes hanging around. I spent the day hanging photos and shelves, organizing drawers and cupboards, and scouring the Ikea website to make room for our things without having our apartment look like a cluttered hell. It was when I got to the last box labeled “bathroom” that everything in my world changed.

In spite of donating a bunch of beauty products to the homeless shelter, I still had enough to make my bathroom look like the basement of Barney’s. I was trying to figure out where to put everything when I saw a familiar pink box. Tampons.

I pulled out the box and looked at it strangely as I tried to remember the last time I had seen them or had any use for them. It had been an unusually long time.

I pulled up the calendar on my phone to see if anything triggered my memory. Nope, I couldn’t remember my last period. What are you, twelve? I scolded myself as I grabbed my purse and flew out the door toward the nearest drug store.

Jake was working the lunch shift at the bar. I sent him a text while I walked. It said to come straight home after work.

Once at the store I couldn’t decide what kind to buy. There were vertical lines, perpendicular lines and the digital ones that actually spelled out the word or words. The digital one was least likely to be misunderstood, but a photo of the plus sign would look better in a pregnancy scrapbook. Ah, screw it. I bought both and hurried home.

As I waited for Jake to walk in the door, I paced the five feet of empty space in the apartment – back and forth, back and forth. I bit off the nails that had finally started to grow back after Mom’s surgery

When I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, I ran to the door and threw it open just as he was approaching. He looked startled.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

I pulled him into the apartment, closed the door and headed straight for the bathroom. He followed me.

“Do you remember that time we used a condom?” I asked him.

He put a finger to his chin like he was actually trying to remember. A few seconds later he shook his head.

“No, I really don’t,” he answered.

“Me either,” I replied, nervously.

He slanted his eyes at me in a curious way. “What are you saying?” he asked cautiously.

I held up the boxes I’d bought at the store.

“Oh,” he said. I couldn’t tell if that was an Oh, yay! Or an Oh, f*ck!

I went into the bathroom and shut the door (Hope taught me well – no more peeing in front of anyone).

I tried the plus-sign one first. Once the stick was lying flat on the sink, I opened the door to Jake’s stunned face, his mouth still in the “O” form. He came into the bathroom like he was in a daze. We both stared at the test on the sink as a horizontal blue line appeared in the window. Then we watched a perpendicular line appear shortly after.

No doubt about it. It was a BFP!

I knew it was early in our relationship for this to happen, and it certainly wasn’t part of my plan just yet. But I hoped he would be as happy as I was to see this plus sign. Who knew? Maybe things were better left unplanned.

“What do you think?” I asked him quietly.

“I think this is …” he stopped as he searched for the right word. “I think it’s ineffable.”



THE END