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“Actually, no. I’m still stocked from the last time.”
“You didn’t buy any last time we went shopping,” she replies, tossing a couple of boxes in the cart.
Blinking, I try to remember when I bought them last. I’ve only gone to the store a couple of times since the accident because Hunter’s been going. “It must’ve been before that then.” I shrug, taking the cart to the next aisle.
“Are you sure? Should I grab a box just in case?” Sophie offers. “Because there’s no way you’re stocked up for more than a couple of times. Your bathroom is way too small for that.”
That’s true. “I have a box in the cabinet under the sink.” I know that for a fact because that’s where I keep all my shit and see it in there each time I grab my blow dryer.
“Lennon.” Sophie inches closer, lowering her voice. “When’s the last time you had your period? Aren’t you on the pill? You should have it every twenty-eight days.”
“Geez, Mother.” I half-laugh. “Why do you care so much?”
“Because you’ve gone through some shit, and it can take a toll on your body just like your emotional and mental states. I’m just worried about you is all.” She flashes me a genuine look of concern, and now I feel bad for scolding her.
“Stress can affect your periods too,” I remind her. “I can’t remember the last time I had it, but I stopped taking my pill after the funeral. Mostly because I forgot.” I was too distraught to even eat.
Sophie gets out her phone and taps on the calendar app. “What are you doing?”
“Counting the weeks.”
“Why?”
“Because if you stopped taking your pill over two months ago and you still haven’t gotten your period, that means something could be off.” She starts holding up her fingers to keep track of how long it’s been.
“I’ll go back on it as soon as I get my period and can start a new cycle. I don’t know why you’re freaking out.” I continue walking, looking at the items on the shelves.
“You should get a pregnancy test,” she blurts out, which has me immediately stopping.
She walks up to me, and I turn to face her. “Have you lost your mind?” I’m getting angry now. “You know I haven’t had sex with anyone.”
“Lennon, I’m sorry. I’m not saying you have. But you could be pregnant. Brandon passed away less than three months ago. You could’ve gotten pregnant right before.” I hear the sincerity in her tone and know she’s not trying to upset me, but the reality is I don’t want to discuss this right now in the middle of the grocery store.
“That’d make me like over two months pregnant then, Soph. I think I’d know by now.” I scoff at the insane thought.
“Not always. A lot of women don’t show the first trimester or even have symptoms. I knew a girl who didn’t find out until she was basically giving birth.”
I wrinkle my nose at the thought. That seems impossible.
“What’s taking you guys so long?” Maddie interrupts, walking up behind us. “Having a sisterly chat without me?” She stalks around the cart and faces us. “What’s wrong?”
Turning away from Sophie, I respond, “She thinks I’m pregnant.”
“What?” Maddie immediately covers her mouth when she realizes how loud she is. “I mean, how?”
Sophie and I both give her a look.
“No dummies, I know how. I meant, wouldn’t you know by now if you were?” She’s treading lightly, and I appreciate the fact she doesn’t assume I’m sleeping with another guy already.
“Instead of fighting about it, let’s just get you a test?” Sophie suggests.
“I’m not pregnant,” I say dryly.
“Have you had any symptoms? Why does Soph think you’re knocked up?” Maddie asks.
I shoot her a look, narrowing my eyes at her bluntness.
“She hasn’t had her period since before Brandon died,” Sophie tells her.
“Gee, why don’t we just broadcast it over the loudspeaker?” I raise my arms, then let them slap down to my sides.
“Well, isn’t it common for your body to change during a traumatic event or something?” she asks.
“See?” I point a hand at Maddie. “Exactly what I’m saying. Sophie thinks I’m whoring around.”
“I never said that!” She scowls. “But let’s really think about this. Aside from no period, you’re fatigued, you haven’t had any appetite, and your hormones are all jacked up.” She holds a hand up to stop me when I try to defend all those things. “Those could be symptoms from grieving, I’m not saying it couldn’t be, but it could also possibly be due to pregnancy. Those are all signs, and if you weren’t grieving, you’d know one hundred percent that something was different. So just take a test and know for sure. For my sanity, please?”
I hate that she has a point even though I’m certain she’s wrong and just making this a much bigger deal than it really is. They look at me, waiting.
