My dad parked his truck and turned off the engine.
“That’s it,” he said.
That’s it.
Just like that.
I sat there for a second, staring straight ahead.
Then I opened the door and stepped out.
I left everything behind without ever getting any answers.
They said this was my beginning. But all I felt was what I lost.
September 2006
Itried to focus on classes. I knew I should have been settling into my class schedule. My English 101 class should have brought me peace, but reading stories likeTheir Eyes Were Watching Godjust gutted me more. How could I tell the class I knew exactly what ache Janie felt over the loss of Tea Cake? I didn’t want to cry in front of the preppy White kids who had probably never experienced even a fraction of what I had over the past couple of months.
I hoped that the rhythm of daily life, the monotony, would help ease the pain. They said time heals wounds, but whoever said that shit was the biggest liar because I couldn’t breathe. Each morning, the ache got worse. I wondered if Xavier was okay, if he felt alone, and if that bitch Nathalie was happy. At school, I went where I was supposed to go. Sat where I was supposed to sit. Wrote down notes that blurred together the second I closed my notebook.
People around me were excited. You could feel it in the air. This was new beginnings, new freedom, new lives starting. My peers laughed too loudly; the corny wannabe frat boys talked too fast and made plans as if the future were guaranteed. Littledid they know I, too, thought my future was guaranteed. X was supposed to get an apartment out here. Slowly exit the drug game. He would enroll in school. My baby thought he had to go to the local community college, but he was driven enough to transfer here eventually.
He probably would have fought me on it, but we could have both become Greek. We could have switched half of our lanyards and done that corny shit twenty-somethings in love did because the worst thing that could possibly happen would be failing a final or messing up a step routine. Life was supposed to be gentle and kind; instead, we got none of that.
X was ripped away from me, and our love turned out to be a sham. I had rose-colored glasses on when it came to loving X. I saw what I wanted to see.
I sighed as I felt a sharp pain pierce my side. Lately, I’ve been experiencing sharp pains and extreme fatigue. I could hardly keep food down, and the smell of that cafeteria food was enough to make me want to vomit. I knew I should see the school doctor, but lately I had no zeal to do anything. Although my assignments were easy, I didn’t feel like writing the reflection. Although Kenya had finally started to call me and text me, I didn’t feel like responding. Although I knew the chest pains I was experiencing weren’t normal, I didn’t feel like getting checked out because what the fuck was the point anymore? I felt so fuckin’ hopeless that all I could do was focus on getting through one moment at a time.
I kept my head down. I didn't ask questions in class or to my academic advisor. I didn’t offer answers when Dr. Cane asked why I seemed so melancholy. I just breathed. Because the truth was, I wasn’t there to start over. I was there because I had been sent away. And no matter how hard I tried to play the part, my body wouldn’t let me pretend for long. I was losing weight because I couldn’t eat. I had bags under my eyes becauseI wouldn’t sleep, and I was deemed a weirdo because I turned down every offer from my roommate, Janessa, to go to parties with her.
But one night, as I lay in our dorm alone, I noticed my breasts were tender to the touch. I couldn’t roll over without wincing. I told myself it was stress. I lost my virginity, my first love, and the relationship I had with my sister and my parents all back to back.
That made sense. Everything had changed too fast. New environment. New expectations. No closure. No answers.No Xavier.Of course, something in me would feel off. Of course, I wouldn’t feel like myself.
But then days passed. I started to feel like something was wrong, and as much as I wanted to ignore it, I had to face the music. I started paying attention without meaning to. I noticed the way my stomach turned on some mornings, the way certain smells hit me too strongly, and the way no amount of sleep could cure my sleepiness.
If I could be honest with myself, my body didn’t feel like mine anymore.
One night, I sat on the edge of my dorm bed, staring at the floor.
My roommate was at a party, per usual. The room was quiet. That same kind of quiet I hated, the kind that made your thoughts louder than they should be. I rested my hand against my stomach without thinking. Just for a second. Just to ground myself, and something shifted. Not something I could explain. My stomach didn’t move in anyway, but a feeling came over me.
I pulled my hand away like I had done something wrong.
“No,” I whispered. It’s not possible. Kenya made me take those pills every morning. I shook my head, standing up too fast, pacing the small room like I could outrun the thought forming in my head.
“No. That’s not what this is.”
But that feeling didn’t leave.
It stayed. The realization that I hadn't gotten a period since before Xavier and I’s first time together followed me. I remembered reading on Reddit that some girls didn’t get their periods while on birth control, so I assumed that’s why I haven’t been bleeding.
The more I talked myself down from the thought of being pregnant, the louder that voice in my head got. Until I couldn’t pretend anymore.
I didn’t take the test right away. I told myself I needed more time.
* * *
