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Suddenly, I sit up because the urge to vomit has struck once more. I literally dry hack a bit, unable to even run to the restroom. There’s an ache in my boobs, and I’m exhausted even though I haven’t done much today. I flop back, tears running down my face because suddenly I realize what’s happening: there’s only one ailment that fits all of these symptoms.
After a moment, I throw on my shoes and practically run out the door to my car before driving like a madman to a convenience store. Then, like an insane woman, I grab seven pregnancy tests just to be safe. The drive home is even longer than the drive there, the paper bag from the store mocking me from the passenger’s seat.
When I pull into the driveway, my parents’ cars are gone. Thank god. Quickly, I run upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom before pulling out the first box. My eyes scan the instructions. It should be easy enough: just pee on the stick and wait.
I do, but then I pace the small bathroom while intermittently throwing impatient glances at the indicator. I’m not good at waiting and time seems to have slowed to a standstill. How can this be happening, anyways? I can’t be pregnant because Travis and I have used protection every time we’ve had sex. He even brings condoms when we go horseback riding, just in case we have a session out in the open air. He’s got condoms in his wallet, in his glove compartment, and I even saw some in one of the coolers that was holding our food.
But then, my eyes widen. The only time we didn’t use protection was that first time we were together in front of Big Black’s stall.
Holy shit. Could I be three months pregnant? Am I that far along?
I take a few deep breaths. It’s not possible. I’ve caught a bug, that’s all, and I’m freaking out about nothing. I would know if I’ve actually been pregnant for three whole frickin’ months.
Wouldn’t I?
Oh shit. My heart sinks remembering a TV show about women who didn’t know they were expecting until they have their baby in the toilet. Could that be me? Some of the women weren’t even overweight. They were skinny and never missed their periods. Their bodies were just different, and suddenly in the shower, they were going into labor.
Fuck. I need to stop myself from diving down a rabbit hole until I know the results. The first test sits on the sink’s edge, and I sink down to collapse on the tile floor, suddenly exhausted all over again.
Just thirty more seconds until I find out, but once again, Leslie’s words tickles the back of my mind. What if I’m pregnant and Travis is married?
I can’t be the pregnant mistress! I can’t, I can’t! Maybe I’m not the most successful career woman, but pregnant mistress is absolutely out of the question. Yet, I can’t give up my baby either, so what will I do? I’ll have to move away somewhere, although god knows where that will be. I’ve never lived outside of Kansas and I love it my little town. I don’t want to have to go, only to be a stranger elsewhere.
The buzzer sounds and I stand up. I walk slowly to the sink and pick up the test. The words are fuzzy at first, but then I blink, and the squiggles turn into straight lines. In small black letters, the test reads, “pregnant.”
Holy shit.
My hands fall protectively to my stomach. For three months, I’ve been nurturing a small child inside of me, and I had no idea the entire time. I suppose I could be pregnant from one of the other times Travis and I slept together because condoms break and things happen. But I don’t think that’s what it is, and in my heart of hearts, I’m pretty sure Travis got me pregnant the first time we had sex. What are the chances?
I pull out my phone to call him but stop myself. This isn’t just anything; this is monumental, and I sure as hell can’t tell him the news on the phone.
I slump onto to the cold bathroom tile, my phone clutched in my hand. What am I going to do? What will I tell Travis? Will he be angry? What about his potential wife? Dread fills my stomach and a trillion questions rush through my brain, but at the same time, I’m grateful and a little excited too. I have a baby growing inside of me, and I’ve always wanted to be a mother. Sure, I didn’t envision it happening like this, but my dream is going to come true in six months, whether I’m ready or not.
Suddenly, I sit up as tears pool in my eyes. I want this baby, and I’m going to keep him or her, no matter how much it costs me. The Coffee Perk, the franchise, and even my tenuous relationship with the father of my child fades into the background. My real direction in life is being a mother, and this child is going to be incredibly loved. If it’s a little girl, will she look like me? Will she need coffee to survive and find the perfect best friend as a kid who stays with her through everything? If it’s a boy, will he look like Travis? Will he be adventurous and adore animals as much as his father does?
