The Senior (College Years 4)

Yep, there he is, his face in mine, his blue eyes swimming with worry. He glances up and speaks to the rest of the table. “She’s awake.”

“Thank God.” That’s my Aunt Chelsea.

I roll my head, realizing I’m sitting in someone’s lap. Autumn’s. She’s brushing my hair away from my forehead. “You fainted.”

Mom rushes into the dining room, kneeling down with a glass of water in her hands. “Can you sit up?” she asks me.

Nodding, I lift up slowly, my head woozy. “I can’t believe I fainted.”

“When was the last time you ate?” Dad asks, his voice stern.

“I don’t know.” I take the water from Mom and sip it.

“Not too much,” she warns, making me feel like I’m five and I just threw my guts up all over my bedroom floor.

That might’ve been an actual experience I’m referring to.

“Ava,” she murmurs. “You can’t stop eating just because your relationship ended. You need to take care of yourself.”

I don’t want the lecture. I know I should take care of myself. But I’m pretty sure this goes beyond a break-up issue. I’m starting to think I’m really sick.

“I’m going back up to my room. I need to lie down.”

“Can you take her upstairs?” Mom asks Autumn.

My sister nods. “Of course. You want to wait a few more minutes? Or are you ready to go now?” she asks me.

I want to get away from everyone’s watchful gaze as soon as possible. They’re all staring, and it’s making me uncomfortable. “Let’s go.”

I stand on slightly wobbly legs and let my sister lead me back upstairs, mute. She doesn’t say a word either. Not until we’re in my bedroom and no one’s around to hear her.

“When I g

et a chance, I’m leaving to go pick up a pregnancy test,” she announces.

Reality smacks itself right in my face. “You think I should take one?”

She nods firmly. “Oh yeah. I don’t know if you’re sick, but we need to figure this out. While you still have time to make a tough decision.”

“Um, if you’re referring to an abortion, there is no way in hell I would ever do that. This is mine and Eli’s baby,” I stress.

“Right, and he’s a prick.”

“A prick that I’m still in love with,” I retort.

“Fine, okay. You’re right. You can’t do that. But you need to figure out what’s going on with your body, because if you’re sick, then you need to go to the doctor. You haven’t been well for at least two weeks,” Autumn says, reaching out to gently squeeze my arm. “I’m worried about you.”

A sigh leaves me, and I appreciate her concern.

I’m worried about me too.

Thirty

Eli

There are four words strung together in the English language that I hate more than any others out there on the planet.

We need to talk.