Don't Lie (Don't 2)

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“Darlin’, I think I’m just going to make sure you get home. I’ll hail a cab for you.”

“What? Why? Did I do something?” Her face fell with disappointment.

I stood on the sidewalk, waving down any yellow taxi I could. One pulled up to the cubr and I opened the passenger door for her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing at all. Not a damn thing.”

And that was the truth. This woman dripped of sex. And it didn’t do anything for me. I didn’t want her.

“But maybe breakfast?” she pleaded.

I shook my head. “Not this trip. Have a good night.”

“But—”

I closed the door and tapped the top of the cab to send her back into traffic. I watched the taillights fade as the taxi rounded the corner.

Maybe tonight I had been ready to let go of the anger, but I crossed the street knowing I wasn’t ready to let go of everything else. Not yet.

34

Sierra

I managed to make it through another week before I knew exactly what I had to face.

At our round table production meeting I had rushed out of the conference room, feigning a stomach virus. I had ended up in the women’s room throwing up into the first trash can I could find.

There was also my sudden aversion to poultry. Just the thought of a turkey sandwich or a drumstick made me gag. It was the weirdest thing. It came out of nowhere. And I was late. I never kept track of my period, but I was beyond late. It all added up to one explanation. One impossible, hard-to-believe, unreal explanation.

I walked into the drugstore. At the end of the family planning aisle was a shelf with box after box of kits and tests. There were so many options with purple and pink labels they made my head spin. I grabbed the first three I spotted and rushed to the counter. I didn’t read the percentages or the response rates.

The clerk took his time ringing me up and even asked if I wanted to join the rewards club.

“No,” I shuffled impatiently on my feet. I had finally gotten up the courage to walk in here and I had to pee something fiercely. “I’m good.”

He handed the plastic bag to me and I hurried to the car. I was only a few blocks from home.

At some point I knew the ice cravings and sudden hot flashes weren’t because I was in Texas. We weren’t going through a heat wave. October wasn’t that cruel.

And then there was the constant peeing and my boobs were killing me. They were prickly and almost hot to the touch. Something was going on with my body. It might have been eight years ago, but there was a sensation that came over me that I distinctly remembered. My tongue felt dry and I couldn’t believe how dizzy I was. I had to face the possibility that the impossible had happened.

I knew my IUD wasn’t one hundred percent effective, but given my past history, I used it as an emergency backup. Pregnancy wasn’t something I thought I’d face again without serious medical intervention. And my doctor seemed to dole out IUDs to all her patients in their twenties. She said it was the most popular birth control, so I went with it.

I took the elevator to my floor, clutching the bag between my sweaty palms.

I dropped my keys at the door and was hit with a wave of vertigo went I bent to pick them up.

“Oh God.” I clutched the wall for support, trying to stand up without falling over.

As soon as I opened the door I sprinted to the bathroom, tore open the first box in the bag without reading the instructions, and held it under me.

I swore after the last time I’d never take another pregnancy test like that again. The next time I was going to be married. It was all going to be planned. Down to the birth month. And my husband and I would sit on the edge of the bed waiting for the results. We’d make jokes and be nervous. Giggling together and worried together. Maybe even daring the other one to look at it first.

But hell no, that wasn’t how this was playing out. I was alone. Completely alone. I looked at my phone for the hundredth time, waiting for the minutes to tick by.

What was I going to do when I read the results? How was I going to tell Blake? Or what if it was negative? Maybe I wasn’t pregnant and instead I had some horrible incurable illness. Maybe I was alone and sick. My fingers began to shake. I had to know what was happening. I needed the truth.