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By:Jana Aston

"Sophie, you're pregnant."

Chapter 32

There's dead silence then. I feel a moment of absolute nothing before my mind starts racing at warp speed. We stare at each other, Luke watching my reaction, my face giving away a myriad of feelings all at once.


He doesn't respond, just keeps watching me.

"I'm not." I shake my head. "I take my pills every day. Every single day. I haven't been on any antibiotics." I shake my head again. "No, no, I'm not, Luke."

He looks sad as he leans against the bathroom doorway. "We did a blood test before taking a CT scan of your head while you were in the hospital. And we confirmed it with an ultrasound."

"You've known this for a week?" I'm feeling semi-hysterical right now and I'm sure I sound it.

"I thought you must know," he says slowly, "and I wanted to give you the chance to tell me yourself."

I grab my purse and push past him in the doorway on my way to my closet. I grab a bag and start tossing things into it randomly.

"What are you doing, Sophie?" Luke is blocking the door to the closet, watching me.

"I'm leaving," I tell him. I'm trying so hard not to cry, tears are threatening to fall and I blink my eyes trying to stop them. "I'm going home, where I'm not pregnant." God, that doesn't even make sense. I sling the bag over my shoulder and turn to face him in the doorway, but I can't meet his eyes. I have to get out of here before I lose it. "Please move, Luke," I say, staring at his chest.

There's a pause and then he steps back and I bolt past him.

"Sophie," he calls out after me, but I don't stop and the front door slams behind me as I flee.

I'm not pregnant. He doesn't know everything. I need to pee on a stick. I am not pregnant. These thoughts bounce around my head as I take the elevator to the lobby and refuse the town car the doorman tries to place me in. I take off down 18th Street. There's a CVS around the corner on Chestnut. I hustle down the sidewalk, intent on getting a pregnancy test.

I walk around CVS in a daze. Where are the pregnancy tests? I've never needed one before. I find them in the feminine care aisle, tampons and pregnancy tests all in one spot. Seems ironic since you only need one or the other.

Okay, pregnancy tests. I scan the row. Why are there choices? Will one choice make me less pregnant? Don't they all do the same thing? I feel panicky, I need to get out of here, but which test do I choose? I take three of them and walk to the checkout.

The cashier scans them and asks if I want a bag. Why wouldn't I want a bag? Am I supposed to take them into the back room and pee on them here? I stare at her name tag. Holly. Maybe I'm pregnant with a girl and we'll name her Holly. Holly Miller. I lose the battle with the tears then and they streak down my face. I don't want a baby named Holly.

"So I'll just put these in a bag then," the cashier says as I swipe my card. "With your receipt," she adds, as if asking me if I would like the receipt in the bag will push me over the edge. I'm clearly not capable of answering the tough questions right now.

I grab the bag and walk down Chestnut in the direction of campus. I have no idea what I'm doing. There's a Dunkin' Donuts ahead on my right and I push the door open and walk in.

I stand staring at the menu board until someone behind me asks if I'm in line. I shake my head and tell them to go ahead, then skip the line altogether and lock myself into the bathroom. I open all the boxes and skip the directions. Pee on the stick, wait. Look for a plus sign or double lines, got it. I finish and shove them all into one box and then into my purse and exit the bathroom.

I stare at the menu board again. I should have a donut. That's the normal thing to do while waiting for a pregnancy test, right? Has it been three minutes? The pregnancy tests are in my bag, waiting, while I look at donuts. Cream-filled? Jelly? Oh, look, they have heart-shaped donuts for Valentine's Day.

What kind of idiot has to be told they're pregnant by their boyfriend? I keep picturing Luke's face as I order two jelly-filled donuts and one of the heart-shaped ones with pink frosting. I add an orange juice. The smell of the coffee is almost ruining my desire for the donuts.

I probably can't have coffee anymore anyway. Stupid baby. I slide the orange juice in my coat pocket and continue walking down Chestnut while I shove a jelly donut in my mouth.

I walk and walk and walk. I reach the Schuylkill and realize I can cross the bridge on foot. Might as well just walk all the way home. Luke's penthouse condo is ridiculously close to my dorm room really. Forty-five minutes on foot, tops, less than fifteen by car. But we're worlds apart, aren't we?

He looked so disappointed when he said I was pregnant. Oh, God. I want to throw up, and not because of hormones. How many times did he lecture me about birth control? I think back to the very beginning, in the clinic when I was his patient. Using condoms just because I threw up a couple of times when I was hungover, the birth control refills that were handed to me.