Her Dad's Friend(24)

Emily fixes her makeup in the murky mirror while I pee on each of the three sticks. I play Candy Crush on my phone while I wait for the results, panicking when a text pops up from Paul asking where I’m at. He must’ve stopped by the coffee shop and I wasn’t there.

“What should I say?” I ask Emily.

I should probably tell him what’s going on, but I don’t want to worry him unnecessarily if there’s no reason for it.

The lights flicker and buzz. There’s a glory hole in the wall and an advertisement written in black Sharpie that says, “For a good time call …” and someone’s number next to it. Great place to find out if I’m pregnant or not.

“Tell him we’re shopping,” Emily says.

“I don’t want to lie to him.”

Emily uses her nail to clean up the edges of the red lipstick she just applied. “Fine. Tell him you’re pissing on a pregnancy strip at a stop-n-rob in the slums.”

I text him back and tell him I’m shopping with Emily.

The timer goes off on my phone. Emily and I look at each other.

Here we go.

“It’ll be okay,” she says without any confidence in her delivery what-so-ever. She’s trying to be comforting but right now that’s the opposite of how I’m feeling.

The tests are on the back of the toilet. I remind myself to stop into the store on the way home for a large bottle of hand sanitizer. I pick one test up and stare down at the little square. It shows two pink lines.

I grab my stomach. “Oh shit.”

Emily takes it from me. “Holy hell.”

I pick up the next one, a different brand than the first. It has a plus sign.

“Double shit,” I say. The nausea is back.

My breath is coming in whooshes and vertigo is setting in. I try to calm myself by lying and telling myself everything is going to be okay, but I know it’s not. Nothing is okay and might not ever be again.

The third test simply says ‘pregnant’, and all I can think is, I’m so fucked.



At home I need some time alone to process everything and get right out of my head. I decide to watch TV. Maybe some mindless entertainment will help relieve some stress. Except every time I change the channel, there’s a cartoon on, or a commercial for extra-absorbent diapers. Suddenly, everything is about babies. I turn off the TV and curl up in a blanket even though it’s fairly warm in my apartment. Right now I just need the comfort of it wrapped around me, like my ratty old woobie from when I was a kid whose corners I used to suck on until the blanket was soaked in my slobber.

Time to read a book instead. This was a better idea. A nice horror about a stalker breaking into a woman’s house is just what I need. I spend all day reading and have nearly finished the entire thing when there’s a knock on my door.

I don’t want to see anyone. It’s probably my mom. She’s definitely the last person I want to see. Scratch that. My dad is actually the last person I want to see. What if it’s both of them? Where’s a tropical storm and road closures when you need it?

Filling my lungs with air, I open the door. There’s a deep ache in my chest when I see Paul standing there, looking so brilliantly handsome. But this time it’s not necessarily a good ache. Now might be the one and only time I’ve ever not been thrilled by his presence. He’s still lovely and makes me weak in the knees to see him, but I’m afraid—terrified, is probably a better word for it.

All it takes is one look for him to know something’s wrong with me.

“Is everything all right?” he asks, concern knitting a line into the skin between his eyes. He steps past me, into the apartment. I close the door behind him and lean against it. My legs are barely holding me up.

“Um, yeah, things are fine,” I say, voice wavering. “Can we talk, though?”

“Sure.” He starts to head for the couch but I stop him.

“Can we go somewhere? I’m sick of being in my apartment.”

“Of course.”

We go downstairs and get into his truck. Before, when I smelled the oil and gasoline, I’d liked it. Now every smell makes me feel sick.

The sun is setting. I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. We go to the cliffs on a piece of private property my dad’s friend owns. No one ever goes up there and it’s fenced off from the public so I know we’ll be alone without interruption.

He turns off the engine and twists in his seat to look at me. “What’s this about? You’re starting to scare me.”

I’m scared too. Mostly of what his reaction will be. But I can’t keep this from him.

I can’t seem to get the words out so I reach into my purse and hand him the three tests.