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“Not yet,” I say before she gets a chance to ask.
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“You were going to ask me if I’ve taken the pregnancy test. It’s in my handbag and I will do it, just not yet.”
“Is the plan to leave it nine months and just see if anything pops out of your flaps?”
“Nice choice of word.”
“Would you prefer cooter?”
“I’d prefer it if you let me decide when to take it.” I lower my voice. “I’m scared. What if I’m pregnant?”
She takes my hand, her touch reassuring. “You need to know, Bella. Whether it’s positive or not, it’s better to face it. Come on, we’ll do it together.”
She folds away her art materials, tucking the easel under her arm as we head for the nearest public restroom. It’s next to a long row of thick bushes and I can’t help but feel eyes on me. I look into the undergrowth but I see nothing.
“What’s up?” Sarah asks.
“Nothing. I’m just being paranoid.” I head into the restroom and she follows me.
“Come on,” she says, locking us into a stall together. “Let’s find out if you’re hitting that billionaire for child support.”
“Is money all you think about?”
“Quit stalling in the stall. Piss on that stick, bestie.”
I rummage through my handbag, my fingers brushing past the essentials of city life until they find the small, unassuming box. I draw it out, my hands visibly shaking.
She places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got this, Bella,” she says, her voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.
I take a deep breath and open the box, extracting the pregnancy test. The plastic feels cold and alien in my trembling hands. I follow the instructions mechanically, as if on autopilot, my mind a whirlwind of what-ifs and maybes.
We wait in silence for the results. Sarah checks her watch, then looks at me, her eyes a mix of worry and support.
“How long has it been?” I whisper, not daring to look at the test.
“About five seconds,” she replies softly. “Give it a chance.”
The seconds stretch into an eternity, each tick of Sarah’s watch amplifying the tension in the air. Finally, she nods at me, signaling that it’s time.
With a hesitant hand, I reach for the test. My heart pounds in my ears as I brace myself for the truth. The display is clear, unequivocal: Positive.
A wave of emotions crashes over me—fear, confusion, a flicker of wonder. “It’s positive, Sarah,” I say, my voice barely audible.
She wraps an arm around me, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of my thoughts. “Is that... is that good news?” she asks gently, her voice tinged with hope.
I shake my head, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. He’s so different from me. He’s the type of guy who gets attacked in an office building for no apparent reason.
“I haven’t seen him in there since. How do I get in touch with him? Ring the building and say I need to talk to the CEO, he got me pregnant?”
“Let’s get some air,” she suggests. “It smells of piss in here.”
“I wonder why,” I reply as she unlocks the stall.
We’ve barely stepped outside when a shadow detaches itself from the underbrush. A man in a tattered overcoat steps into our path, his intentions clear from the dangerous glint in his eyes.
“Hand over your purses, ladies,” he growls, a blunt object glinting in his hand.
