“Did you and Grayson use protection the last time you had sex?”
I swallow. It’s a feeble attempt at not choking on the giant lump blocking my throat. The lump disappears when I realize that we’ve been using protection all along. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach despite knowing that we’ve been careful.
“Yes.” The words come out in a breathy whisper.
“The condom didn’t break or anything did it?”
It’s a reasonable question to ask. “I don’t know. Grayson would’ve told me if it had. Wouldn’t he?”
All kinds of scenarios play out in my head. Demi must see my fear and uncertainty because she starts rubbing circles on my back. I feel like I’m going to be sick again, and ridiculously stupid. Grayson would’ve said something if there was an ‘accident’. I highly doubt becoming a parent at twenty one is on his wish list.
If God were to strike me with lightening I wouldn’t hold it against Him. Honestly, if I could do that myself then I would. I start panicking and Demi grabs my face, forcing me to look at her. She doesn’t know about my past, about how I fell pregnant and had a miscarriage with my first boyfriend. If she did, then maybe my panic attack wouldn’t be seen as strange or unexpected.
“It’s ok girl,” she coos. “I’ll take a drive to the pharmacy in town and get a test. Don’t freak out until we’re sure.”
My breaths quicken and I’m sure I’m about to hyperventilate. I can’t be pregnant. I’m only nineteen for fuck sake and Grayson and I haven’t even been together that long. Oh God please let it be a virus or something. I would rather deal with that than have to tell Grayson that I’m expecting his baby.
Demi lays me down and leaves. I try not to worry myself to death while she’s gone but it doesn’t help. I ask over a million questions and find myself answering them by rationalizing. Not that it helps ease the anxiety lurking in the darkest corners of my mind.
What if I’m pregnant? I can’t be. I’m on the pill and Grayson uses condoms.
What will I do? Crawl into a hole and cry most likely.
How am I supposed to tell Grayson? Maybe I won’t have to.
How will he react? He will freak the fuck out, that’s how.
Will he leave me? I sure as hell hope not.
The thought of him leaving me makes the tears flow down my face. I can’t go through this again. I won’t survive it.
And what will Uncle Alex and Aunt Emma say? Will they send me to a home for unwed mothers’?
Now I’m just being crazy. There may not even be a baby to speak of.
By the time Demi comes back I’m a sobbing mess and no closer to finding real or believable answers to the endless stream of rhetorical questions crashing in my head.
Demi sits next to me quietly and hands me a bottle of water. “Drink this so you can pee on that stick.”
Her bluntness almost makes me laugh until I realize the seriousness of the situation. I finish the water in a few gulps and wait fifteen minutes before the urge to pee finally strikes. I walk into the bathroom and remove the shiny white stick from its packaging. I do my business and when I place the stick on the bathroom counter Demi walks in. She grabs my hand and smiles at me reassuringly. After three minutes pass, I squeeze Demi’s hand and look down.
One blue stripe.
“That’s negative right?”
“Yes,” I breathe. I start crying, only this time it’s from relief. Thank God. I’m so not ready to deal with a baby. Maybe someday, when Grayson and I are ready to make that decision together, we’ll have a baby. The idea of having his baby grow inside my belly is exciting and not something I thought I would ever want to consider.
But not now. I’m not ready. We’re not ready.
“Are you going to tell Grayson?”
I know I should. It would be the right thing to do. But what do I say?
“I don’t know. It’s negative so there’s not much to tell is there?”
“It’s your choice. I think he’d want to know about something like this. The test may have been negative but if he’s your boyfriend and you’re in this relationship together, he deserves to know.”
She’s right. I know that. I just can’t help the need to keep it to myself.
My stomach rolls again. I lean on the counter and wait for the wave of nausea to pass. When I’m sure I won’t be sick again I crawl back into bed. I suddenly feel exhausted, both physically and emotionally.
“Can I bring you something to eat?” Demi asks. She seems as relieved as I am but there’s something else in her eyes. Incredulity perhaps?
“No thanks Dem. I think I’m going to sleep for a bit. When I wake up I’ll grab something.”
She nods and leaves my room quietly.
The look on her face a moment ago troubles me. Is she doubting the test result? How can she when they’re 99.99 percent accurate?