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I woke up a few days later and couldn't get to the bathroom soon enough. My stomach roiled, and I was shaky and sweating. I generally felt like crap. I'd eaten some of Raya's vegan food and figured that was why. I dropped down on my knees in front of the toilet with no time to spare. All of that quinoa and other hippie garbage was coming up again.
As I prayed to the porcelain gods, my first thought was to blame the weird vegan food. It had to be that. Clearly, I wasn't built for the vegan lifestyle and required copious amounts of grease, fast food, and French fries.
But then, after throwing up everything I thought I'd eaten for the last ten years, and wiping my face clean with a cool, damp cloth, another thought occurred to me. A thought that sent a bolt of fear mixed with excitement coursing through my veins.
I could be pregnant.
I dug out the paper bag with the pregnancy tests inside of it, my hands trembling as I unwrapped one. My hands were trembling so badly, I dropped it twice before I got the packaging open.
Oh God, please let it be. My stomach lurched again, this time from nerves though.. I sat on the toilet and slipped the tester between my legs, peeing on the stick. When that was done, I sat there, waiting impatiently, my nerves jangling terribly.
I had no choice but to wait for the result. I kept an eye on the clock, feeling like the seconds were ticking by agonizingly slowly. I tapped my feet on the floor and drummed my fingers on my thigh. Waiting sucked, but I had no other choice.
Malcolm hadn't called me back since our very short conversation a few nights ago, when he'd basically told me we would stop trying for a bit if we weren't pregnant. I thought it was a really strange comment to make and I didn't know why he was feeling that way. I mean, we'd only been together a handful of times, and sometimes, it takes a minute for an egg to be fertilized. Why so ready to give up?
Was that his way of breaking things off with me? I didn't know, but something had very clearly changed if he was talking about not trying again so soon.
My head was spinning as I waited for the damn timer to go off, and when it did, I almost jumped out of my skin. I was apparently wound a bit too tight. I reached for the stick and stared at it for a long time before it made sense to me, even though the test was one of those that merely spelled it out for you – ‘pregnant or not pregnant’. There were no lines to read, no guessing whether there were one or two lines. It literally told me what I'd needed to know in one simple word.
In this case, it said Pregnant.
“I'm pregnant,” I whispered to myself.
I stared down at my mostly flat tummy and had a hard time imagining that there was a life growing inside of me. Aside from the nausea I'd just had, I'd felt okay. I didn't have an ongoing case of morning sickness or any other symptoms, really. I'd never kept track of my period before
, never had to, but as I sat there and thought back, I realized that maybe I was actually late.
Because I was pregnant. The results were positive. “Holy shit,” I said to myself, sitting on the closed toilet seat.
My hands were shaking so badly, it looked like I had palsy or something, as I reached for my phone. I typed out several messages to Malcolm, only to erase them and try again, doing my best to find the right words.
After about my thirtieth attempt to draft an appropriate text, I realized that I couldn't tell him the news over text. No, I'd have to tell him face to face. And honestly, I couldn't wait to see the look in his eyes. I decided to send a simple enough message.
Hey there
Yes, after nearly twenty minutes of agonizing over each and every word I thought about sending, that was all I'd sent. I sat there and waited for a response. Nothing came for a long time, and I realized it was early. Maybe too early. He could still be asleep. I convinced myself that he probably was still asleep.
But, then I realized how ridiculous that was. It was seven in the morning, who was I kidding? Malcolm was not sleeping. He was already up and about. He was an early bird, which meant that maybe, he was on his way to work. Yeah, that had to be it. That seemed like the most reasonable explanation.
I kept waiting for some response though, anything at all. About half an hour later, my phone buzzed, and I jumped out of my skin. My heart racing and my hands trembling, I picked up my phone and looked at his message.
Hey there, Casey. Sorry, been busy. How are you?
Uhhh, pregnant with your child? That's how I am. Not that I could have typed that out. I settled for something less dramatic.
I'm good. Think we can get together tonight?
Waiting was the worst. I needed to see him, to speak with him in person. This was news that had to be delivered in person. Anything else would just be wrong. My heart was beating out of my chest and I felt like I could throw up at any minute.
I kept staring at my phone. Waiting. And waiting some more. He took forever to get back to me. Again. Maybe I should have called instead. Finally, another message came through.
Can't tonight. Family dinner. Can I call you later?
My heart sunk as I read the words. I'd never felt more alone than I did in that moment. I was pregnant, freaked out emotional, and didn't want to settle for a phone call. This was not news that could or should be delivered in an email, over the phone, or in a text. The only right way to tell somebody they were going to be a father was when you were looking them in the eye.
Not sure what else I could do though, I told him it was fine and put my phone away.
Tears, fat and warm, rolled down my cheeks. I wasn't even sure why I was crying, except for the fact that I felt emotional and scared. What if Malcolm had changed his mind about wanting a baby? Or that his feelings for me had changed somewhere along the line.
