Josie leaned in, blinking rapidly, her face serious and relaxed, the look jarring to Laura. She hadn’t seen her friend this still and composed since...well, never. “Because if you are pregnant, ignoring it can only hurt you and the baby. I’m a nurse, Laura. I know how important prenatal care is. I’ve worked labor and delivery and I’ve worked the post-partum wing. I just want to make sure you don’t do anything you might regret.”
“Like what?” A shadow of something sinister crept into the room. What did Josie mean?
“Like ignore the reality of being pregnant and not get early care. Once you know the truth, you can do the right thing.”
“The right thing?” She peered at Josie, wondering if she was implying what Laura thought she was implying.
“I mean get the care you need. Whichever way you choose. Early treatment is best no matter what.”
Whoosh. Laura sighed deeply. Whew. “For a minute there, I thought you were saying I should get an abortion.”
“Not my decision to make, or to influence.” Josie shook her head, her vehemence a little unsettling. What if Laura needed to bounce ideas off her bestie? Isn’t that what BFFs were for? Another round of nausea made her close her eyes and breathe slowly, deeply, as if she were getting through a contraction.
Staying perfectly still, Laura took in Josie’s response, her body a bit more grounded after the breaths. No judgment. “Right,” was all she could think to say.
Josie’s face was neutral as she picked up the pink box and began opening it. “This one doesn’t need first-morning urine, so you could do it right now, if you want.”
Oh, God. A cold wave of everything washed over her. This was real. Her entire fate was in the hands of a thin stream of pee and a little plastic stick with chemicals on it that would measure her future in the form of one, or two, pink lines. The floor seemed really close, the walls closing in on her. Josie’s face went from the look of a professionally neutral nurse to that of a concerned friend.
“Breathe. Just breathe.”
“Easy for you to say,” Laura gasped, hands white-knuckling the back of a chair, her kitchen screamingly pink. Now she understood Dylan’s reaction to all the color—it really was dramatic, wasn’t it? Viewing her life through an outside lens had become the new norm.
And now through the lens of baby.
Laura reached for her water and took a sip. “OK. But you have to be the one to read it and tell me what it says.”
“No problem.” The concern that had crept into Josie’s eyes freaked Laura out. This was, most likely, the most mature conversation they had ever had in their entire friendship. Somber. Deliberate.
Bring back flaky Josie, please.
“Here. Just fill the cup and I’ll handle the dipstick.”
“That’s what she said,” Laura joked. Josie cracked a toothy smile. She looked at the little cup. Seriously? Her entire life rested in what the pee told them? Josie was now the Pee Whisperer?
Dissembling. “Laura?” Josie asked, nudging her gently to the bathroom.
Memorable pees came to mind. Straddling a Big Gulp as she raced down the Pike to make it on time to a concert. Peeing on a Bush in 2000 on election night (her mom’s idea). Peeing in a trough at the outdoor amphitheater while visiting cousins in Ohio.
Peeing for a stick that would determine her fate? This was #1 on that list now.
What an honor.
Filling the cup was easy, some of the stream missing and hitting her wrist, warm and cloying, Her own urine never bothered her but right now, everything bothered her, stomach a barometer of stress and hormones. Hormones that could be detected by the reactions the chemicals in the little cloth-line end of the pregnancy test’s stick. Urine-filled cup in hand, she emerged and shoved the warm container in Josie’s hand.
“Thanks.” Josie made a flowery production of dipping the stick, waiting the appropriate amount of time, then setting it on the table.
“Do, do, do, do,” she hummed. The music to Jeopardy, the little ditty they play while the contestants wager as much as possible to win final jeopardy—where some people bet everything and fail, and others bet everything and succeed in ways that exceed their wildest dreams.
No final jeopardy for Laura, though. The only way out was through.
Through pee.
“How long does this take?”
“Three minutes.” Josie stared at the stick as if it were a chess opponent in check. Laura forced herself to go and wash her face, then brush and floss. That should kill three minutes, right? She wandered back into the kitchen to find Josie frozen in place, face serious and scowling. She looked like a chihuahua doing an impression of Grumpy Cat.