Now I'm standing here in the bathroom, looking at the little box, and I'm more scared than I've been at any time in my life. I close my eyes and take the plunge, tearing open the box. There's a little thing that looks like a whiteboard marker with a window in the side, and a single instruction sheet.
"Uncap device, hold in urine stream or in cup of fresh urine until testing device is fully wet. Cap and wait one minute. Plus sign confirms pregnancy, minus means no pregnancy. If there is no indication at all in the window, the device may be faulty, or you are too hydrated. Wait and try again with a new device and when your urine stream is not as clear."
Well, you had some water at practice, but you're not exactly swimming. I guess if it's yellow, you're good to go. Might as well get to work.
I squat over the toilet and do what I need to do, capping the test and counting to one hundred, just to be sure. I'm just turning the device over when Mom opens the door of the bathroom. "Oh, sorry, Whitney. I thought that . . .”
Mom goes silent, seeing what's in my hand. She looks at me, then at my hands again, and takes a deep breath. "Well?"
I turn the test over, and my heart drops into my feet. A plus sign. "It's a plus."
"I thought . . . Whitney, after all I've told you about what I had to go through . . . what were you thinking?" Mom says, her voice rising into a yell. "It's that Troy Wood, isn't it? That playboy bastard!"
I'm nodding and crying at the same time, and I push past her to go into my bedroom, where I throw myself on the bed, sobbing. I don’t need this shit right now. It's my senior year, I've got a great social life going and an awesome boyfriend, and it's not even Thanksgiving yet!
I'm still sobbing when there's a quiet knock on my door. "Go away, Mom! You made your point clear!"
"Actually, honey, I came to apologize," Mom says, coming in and sitting next to me. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I yelled at you. I know you must be an emotional mess right now.”
"We were careful, Mom," I sob, half blubbering, I know, but not able to do more. "We were careful. He wore a condom, and we never . . . ah, gah!" I can't make any more sense, and I just bury my face in my pillow. Maybe I can suffocate myself that way. I think I've seen it in a movie once.
Mom sits quietly, stroking my hair, saying nothing while I sob. When it passes, I feel a little bit better. Life still is unfair and sucks, but I'm not going to die, am I? I mean, look at Mom. She got pregnant in high school too, and she made a great life for me. Well, until I went and fucked it up, but she did a lot for me. I turned over and sniffled, wiping at my nose. "Mom . . .”
"No, honey, you don't need to apologize," Mom says, leaning down and kissing my forehead. "We do need to have a serious discussion though. Actually, you and Troy need to have a serious discussion."
"I can't, Mom!" I say, suddenly afraid. "Mom, if I tell him, it ruins his life!"
"Whitney Nicole Nelson, you’d better start talking sense. Or else I'm going to go over to the Wood house and get some answers from Troy and his parents."
"Mom, that's the thing, though. Troy . . . he's been getting beaten by his dad for years, and yesterday, he nearly got put in the hospital. His mom left . . . years ago, I don't know when. But he's got a bright future, Mom. He wants to get out of Silver Lake Falls, and he's got a scholarship to college. He’s on his way to his dream of going to the NFL. If he knows I'm pregnant, it’ll ruin his whole life."
Mom swallows and looks at me. "He got you pregnant, Whitney. He needs to take responsibility for his actions. And if he’s a half-decent human being, he’ll want to know.”
"Mom, it's my body. Isn't that what you keep telling me?" I plead, begging. "If I tell Troy, he's going to quit football and not go to college. He’ll get a job trying to take care of the baby, and that’ll ruin him—it’ll kill him. Worst of all, Mom, it’ll ruin the love we have, because he’ll come to resent me. I know it, Mom. I . . . I love him too much to ruin him like that."
Mom sits quietly, then sighs. "So what do you want to do? Whitney, you're only a few weeks pregnant, and I still want to talk to Dani Vaughn. I suspect I can even put a date of conception based off the now obvious lie you two cooked up . . . but that's for another time. It's only October. Graduation in June is a long way off, and no matter what, you're going to be showing by Spring Break at the latest. If you're like me, you're going to show a lot earlier than that. You can't hide a pregnancy from Troy until June."
I nod, then swallow. "I need to leave, then."
"That'll hurt Troy too, you know," Mom says, not unkindly. "If he loves you the way that you're saying you love him, you're going to break his heart."
"I'd rather break his heart that break his future," I whisper, looking out. "Besides, who says that, maybe after the baby is born, I couldn’t come back, you know?"
"That's a lot to talk about, Whitney," Mom says, stroking my hair. "I disagree with your thinking, but you’re eighteen and an adult. I’ll support you on whatever you decide.”