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“Oh, my God,” I sputter, grabbing a fistful of my hair in trepidation. “Do you think… OMG, do you think I’m pregnant?”
The silence between us speaks volumes.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, looking down at my stomach in a new light. It definitely doesn’t look any different. I rack my brain, trying to think of the last time Matt and I didn’t use a condom. There was one time a few weeks ago, and one a few weeks before that. My heart begins to thud in double time. Either one of those instances could have resulted in me getting pregnant.
“Do you have any pregnancy tests?” Sarah asks.
I shake my head, unable to speak.
“Let’s go to the drug store right now and get a few,” Sarah says, already starting to get to her feet.
“Wait!” I grab her hand and gently pull her back down. I’m suddenly dizzy with fear and excitement and nausea and what feels like a billion other emotions. “Let’s not get carried away just yet. I want to enjoy these next few days with you. Okay? I’ll get a test after you leave.”
As evidenced by her expression, Sarah doesn’t like this idea. “I don’t know, Jen,” she says. “Aren’t you going to freak out more if you don’t know? And won’t you want to tell Matt right away?”
“We don’t have to tell Matt anything,” I say firmly. “Not until I take the test and know for sure. And I don’t want to take the test until after I’ve had a few fun-filled days with you. I promise I won’t even drink any alcohol, just in case.”
“Won’t Matt find that suspicious?”
I choke out a laugh. “Probably,” I admit. “I’ll just tell him I’m not feeling great and am taking it easy on the gin and tonics.”
“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Sarah says. “Sure you wouldn’t feel better with me being here when you take the test?”
I inhale deeply, trying to stay calm.
“That would be nice,” I say, “but I’m confident I don’t want to worry about it right now. Let’s just have fun for a couple days. Okay?”
Sarah smiles. “Okay,” she says. “But it won’t be fun if we just sit in the bathroom the whole time I’m here.”
I laugh and we clamber to our feet, then go back out to the living room. Matt won’t be home for a couple of hours. I feel less nauseous as we continue watching the movie, but my thoughts and feelings threaten to pull me in, like quicksand. A huge part of me still isn’t sure that I’m ready to settle down. Marriage was a big enough deal, but motherhood, too? Am I really prepared for that?
A quiet voice within me whispers, Yes. You could do this. And it would be beautiful because you and Matt made this child together.
I lean my head on Sarah’s shoulder. I’ll think about it more in a few days. For now, I have best friend time to enjoy--and I can’t wait for her to meet Matt.
9
Matt
Spending time with Jenna and her best friend was like babysitting two teenagers. They laughed, they cackled, they fought, they spouted inside jokes at a mile a minute. They stayed up late into the night--far past when I went to bed--and, one morning, I found them both asleep in the guest room, curled up together like sisters. They have a bond that I admire, but, God, was I exhausted when Sarah finally went home.
“That was fun,” I say to Jenna as we drive back from the airport. “I’m glad your friend came to visit. But I could probably sleep for a full day now.”
She laughs, gazing out the window. Snow falls gently, carried by swift gusts, and I watch her in the mirror as she watches the snow drift. Her profile like this is so elegant and peaceful that it almost takes my breath away.
I already know that I’m in love with Jenna. I realized it weeks ago. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, one I haven’t encountered for a long time, but when it appeared, I immediately knew it for what it was. We were cuddled in bed, her head on my chest after an intense session of love-making. I stroked her hair and whispered that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
“You think so?” she replied, her eyes lighting up.
“I know so.”
“Well,” she smiled, “I’m definitely the luckiest woman in the world, that’s for sure.”
“Why?” I asked.
She pressed a languorous kiss to my lips. “Because I get to love you.”
With her confession, my own adoration surged to the surface. I held her as tightly as I could, reluctant to ever let her go. “I love you too, Jenna,” I said.
The phrase felt unfamiliar on my tongue, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I meant it. After all, I love the streak of pink in her hair, and the tiny hole in her nose from when she used to have it pierced. I love the way she sings along to the car radio, making up the words when she doesn’t know them. I love the way she always has dinner prepared when I come home from work, even if she burned it. I love the way she makes love to me. I love the way she smiles. I love every single goddamn thing about her.
