I took the bag into the bathroom with me and ripped the box practically in half to open it. My hands were shaking, which didn’t make it easy to get the foil packet undone. When I held the damn thing, it seemed utterly wrong that I should be so terrified of a tiny chunk of cheap plastic. This stupid little thing held so much power over my life. My entire future, possibly.
I sat on the toilet and tried to figure out what angle would work best. Unlike most men I’d ever met, women don’t generally have a bizarre childhood history of peeing on things, so I’d never had any practice. Then, I had to overcome my nerves to actually get things flowing. I managed to force a few drops, and peed on my hand.
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered under my breath. It was hard enough taking a pee test at the doctor’s office, and that little plastic cup was a much bigger target.
I looked at the sink. The gleaming porcelain cup we used as a toothbrush holder tried not to make eye contact with me.
“Sorry, Holli, I’ll buy you another.” I emptied our toothbrushes into the sink then sat back down, positioned the cup between my legs, and urged myself to relax.
I didn’t get much, but I hoped it would be enough. My heart in my throat, I dipped the cotton-ish tip thing on the end of the test into the bottom of the cup.
Watching the test saturate and the wet mark creeping through the little plastic window was not unlike watching a car accident from the sidewalk. I knew what was going to happen, but I was powerless to stop it from happening as the horror unfolded before my very eyes. As my urine washed across the test strip, there it was, clear as day. Two bright, unmistakable pink lines. It didn’t even need a few minutes to develop.
“No.” I shook my head and set the cup on the floor. At least I had the presence of mind to put the cap back on the test, so it wouldn’t dribble as I shuffled, my pants still around my ankles, to the torn instruction sheet on the floor. I compared my test with the diagram, certain I’d made a mistake reading it. But there it was. One line for negative. Two for positive.
I really was pregnant.
My ears were ringing. I looked up at my reflection in the mirror, my eyes wide, my face pale. I looked back at the test in my hand, and flung it to the floor in disgust. “You’re a liar!”
Holli knocked on the door. “Soph! Are you okay?”
I slid down the wall and covered my face with my hands. The door opened just a little bit. “Soph?”
“I’m not okay.” I wiped my tears from my cheeks on the back of my hand. “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, honey.” Holli sounded just as upset as I felt. That added guilt to my reaction. Could I be any more dramatic?
Okay, so I knew that having unprotected sex wasn’t a great idea. I’d done it anyway. But this wasn’t the worst-case scenario. I could fix this.
I stood up, dumped the cup into the toilet, flushed, and said, “I’m pregnant, and we need a new toothbrush holder.”
“Yuck. I’ll give you a minute.” Holli closed the door, and I welcomed the space. I just needed to think.
There was a fucking baby in me.
Jesus Christ.
A real baby? Like a rip out of my vagina Aliens-style baby? What was I going to do about that?
I thought about the pictures in Neil’s kitchen. Emma with her puppy. The first day of school. Neil had obviously been a part of her life. He didn’t want to have any more kids, though. I had no doubt he would financially support me if I chose to keep it, less doubt that he would walk away from me and a baby without providing emotional support, as well. But when I tried to imagine what life would be like living on Fifth avenue with a baby and a nanny while my older, more successful husband made billions of dollars... the picture didn’t look appealing.
I liked my apartment. I liked my room. I liked my bathtub. And I really, really liked not having a human being I didn’t even know using me for life support.
But it was a baby, right? It was our baby, half me, half Neil. Shouldn’t that magically undo all my worries? Shouldn’t I be happy that I made a baby with the guy I loved? Didn’t everyone want this?
Was I supposed to want this?
I put our toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet, washed my hands then stepped out of the bathroom. Holli and Deja were waiting in the living room, and I held up one finger to stave off their questions. “Wait. I just want to try Neil one last time.”