Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“I should get the register set up.” I made to step past her, but she held up a hand.
“Just relax for a moment.”
I sighed and fell down into Ava’s chair. “It was nothing, just the chemical fumes. They were making me dizzy back at the cabin as well.”
Macy leaned forward. “Could you be pregnant?”
My mouth fell open to deny it. The idea was absurd—of course I wasn’t pregnant. Pregnancy was something that happened to happily married women, or women who were trying to trap a man into marriage. I was neither. I was just a person in the prime of my life carrying on a love affair with another equally virile person. That thought hit me like a sledgehammer and sunk to the bottom of my stomach with an audible thud.
My period was late. I hadn’t noticed it or thought about it, but I realized it had been at least two months since I had seen Aunt Flo. Jason and I had been less than cautious, giving way to the passion of the moment. I opened my mouth to speak, but Macy cut me off with an understanding pat on the hand.
“My first one was a surprise to me too,” she soothed.
I didn’t know what to say. How was I going to tell Jason? We were just getting established with our romance—how could we throw a pregnancy into the mix? Did he even want children? Was he in it for the happily ever after, or was he more of a “happily right now and I don’t want to make a commitment” kind of guy? I didn’t know. We had never had that conversation. We’d never even had the “I love you” talk—now we had to have the “you’re gonna be a father” one?
I felt myself sliding down the slippery slope of panic. Macy brought me back with a kind smile. “Let’s not worry just yet,” she said.
The door opened and the two part-time girls came in. I jumped up from Ava’s chair, pasting a thick smile on my face. Was it my imagination or was it harder to get up than it had been ten minutes ago?
“Finish my hair, and I’ll go get a test,” Macy whispered.
I agreed with a nod, unwrapping each strand of hair and washing the bleach out. I blew her hair out, combing and shaping until I was satisfied with the look. I stood back to let Macy catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
She touched the sides, tilting her head to the left and the right. “I love it,” she fawned. “Be right back.”
Macy hopped out of her chair, grabbed her purse, and scooted out the door. She was back just ten minutes later, obviously having gone to the drugstore down the street. I didn’t know who saw her buy the test, but her status as a married woman was well-known. If it had been me buying the pregnancy test, the town gossip would have reached my doorstep yesterday at the latest. I took the frail box that was concealed in a non-descript brown bag from my friend’s hand.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Go take it,” Macy whispered. “I’ll keep an eye out for customers.”
I grinned, still feeling nauseous but loving the support of a great friend. One of the part-time girls looked up to see me walking toward the bathroom. She thought nothing of it and went back to her styling. I breathed a sigh of relief. All I needed was for the entire town to know before I did or for someone to tell Jason before I had a chance.
I stopped myself as I stood outside the bathroom door. I had to focus. All my questions of future parenthood were irrelevant if the test came out negative. All I had to do was step into the bathroom, lock the door, and pee on a stick. It was only the rest of my life hanging in the balance, how bad could this be? I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and forged inside.
Forcing myself to remain calm, I ripped the package open and dangled over the toilet while collecting my sample. I set the stick on the back of the tank and waited. I washed my hands. I paced the tiny room, two steps to the wicker table with the fake flowers, two steps back to the door. After three minutes, I approached the porcelain throne.
The test stick stared back at me, screaming its accusations. Two bright pink lines declared that I was pregnant. I swallowed in disbelief. My mouth suddenly dry. Like a criminal, my first instinct was to destroy the evidence. I shoved the stick back into its wrapper and pushed the wrapper down into my pocket. The box went in the trash, underneath a protective layer of discarded paper towels. I washed my hands not once but twice, staring at my reflection to see if “I’m pregnant” was written all over my face.