There was no one in the bathroom with Rosemary.
She was completely alone.
—
Kal waited outside the door for Rosemary to pee on a stick.
The toilet flushed. He thought about knocking.
The first time he’d knocked on her door, she’d come out naked, bombed on adrenaline, and he’d been out of his head, too, dumb enough to have sex with her without a condom, and that was how he’d ended up here, standing outside a different door, halfway around the world from where they started.
It was hard to get a handle on what he wanted the test to make him feel. Relief that she wasn’t pregnant—sure. That would be simple, and probably for the best.
It would also mean there was nothing connecting him to Rosemary, nothing real to tie her to him beyond the way he felt about her and the things they’d been through together.
Babies came into the world all different ways. Patricia had been a surprise, his mom not married, not dating anyone, and she’d never told him who the father was.
Kal had never been sorry Patricia was born. He didn’t think his mom had either.
Rosemary cracked the door open. She handed him the test.
One line in the display. The plastic said, clear as day, two lines meant pregnant, one line meant not pregnant.
So that was settled. Kal waited for the relief, but he didn’t feel anything different. Glad to see Rosemary’s face, even though she’d only been gone a few minutes.
Lost, maybe.
“I don’t know how accurate it is,” she said. “It’s probably fine, but it says it’s meant to be done at most six days before your period comes, and I’ve no idea when that is.”
“There were two in the package.”
“I’ll keep the other one and try it again in a week or two.”
He could only see the crown of her head now, her hair falling around her face, which kept getting closer to the test in his hand. “You okay?”
She looked up at him, blinking. Her eyes wet.
“Did you want it to be positive?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“No, not really. I just—” She knocked his hand to the side and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him so hard he lost his breath for a second. “It’s difficult to realize part of your life is over,” she said against his chest. “Not because you want it back, although you kind of do want it back, but more…because you have to figure out what’s next. Put your arms around me.”
Kal did. He held her as hard as she was holding him, felt some of what she was feeling, although he knew it wasn’t the same for him. Couldn’t be the same.
He would miss her. He hated knowing exactly how much, and where it would hurt, and how long it would take to get better.
“I like babies,” he said against her hair. “I like you better, though.”
It was an inane thing to say, but she looked up, almost smiling. “I like you, too.”
“I’m sorry I got so intense.”