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There’s a quiet tap on the bathroom door.
“It’s me,” Dean’s voice comes fr
om the other side of it. I flip the lock and swing the door open, pulling him inside quickly and relocking it. He’s got a white paper bag in his hand. My belly flip flops again, same as it’s been for the last month or so. Not really where I thought we would be doing this, in the Walgreens bathroom, but I can’t take these at either of our houses.
“I didn’t know which one to get, so I bought three.” I look at his face, his green eyes bright with worry. They’re almost always an emerald color, but anytime he’s sad or worried, they’re a bright green. And he’s worried, his brows furrowed, the little worry line between his eyebrows more prominent than ever.
“Thank you,” my voice trembles as I take the bag from his hands, sliding the boxes out. Three pregnancy tests. My belly dips again. I drop the boxes and make it to the stall, retching into the toilet. I’m two heaves in but Dean is right behind me, holding my hair out of my face and lightly rubbing my back while I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. I flush and stand, giving him a weak smile. “I’m sorry,” I start but he cuts me off.
“Babe. You don’t have to apologize every time you puke.” He gives me a sad smile before pulling me into him and pressing a kiss to my lips. I cringe, knowing my mouth tastes like throw-up, but also knowing that he doesn’t care. He’s grown accustomed to my puke mouth over the last month. At first, I thought it was the flu. But then it just wouldn’t stop, and it was only in the mornings. Which is why we’re here, locked inside the bathroom at Walgreens, getting ready to take a pregnancy test.
I shove him out of the stall and take all three sticks in with me, closing and locking the door. Once I’m done, I replace the lids on all three tests, lining them up on top of the toilet paper holder. I flush the toilet and leave the stall, washing my hands as Dean leans against the door, the timer on his phone counting down from three minutes.
Three minutes that we have to wait to find out if we’re going to be parents. I find myself unconsciously resting my hands on my stomach as I look at my face in the mirror.
“Hey,” he says, coming up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. He finds my eyes in the mirror. “Whatever happens, I’m not leavin’ Whitley Jean.” I give him a watery smile in the mirror just as his phone alarms, telling us the three minutes is up. He releases me and steps back, giving me a little space.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I open the stall door and grab all three tests.
Positive. Pregnant. Two lines. I drag my eyes from the tests to Dean’s face, his eyes meeting mine, shining with unshed tears. I choke out a sob.
“Pregnant,” I whisper, and he closes the distance, pulling me into his arms as I cry. “I’m only seventeen, Dean. How can I raise a baby and finish school?” I had all these plans. Finish high school. Take a year off and see the world with Dean. Instead, I’m going to be stuck raising a baby and working at the local Piggly Wiggly. Another sob slips out of me.
“We’re gonna figure it out, Whit. Swear to you, we’ll figure it out.”
The more time that went on, the more excited I got. Havin’ this tiny human inside of me, growing. It was incredible. I told my parents, who were initially really upset, but they loved me and knew Dean and I were in love, so they eventually got on board with the idea. Dean’s mom, Darla, was over the moon. She’s a hippie who didn’t give a shit what Dean did, so long as he didn’t smoke her weed.
It was exciting and terrifying, all in one. To know I’d be responsible for this little person who would be completely dependent on me. I loved Dean somethin’ fierce before we got pregnant but seeing how excited he was to have a daughter made me love him even more. He cried when we found out it was a girl. He was beside me every step of the way, putting her crib together, buying two car seats so we wouldn’t have to move them back and forth between cars, working three jobs while I finished school so he could support the three of us.
And then, in an instant, the rug was ripped out from under us.
“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Amari had said, “but she’s stillborn.”
I laid on that operating table as they cut me open, took out my dead baby. Had her daddy cut the cord while we both cried. They cleaned her up, wrapped her in a little pink blanket, and placed her on my chest.
We spent hours in our hospital room with her before the nurse came and took her away. We picked out a casket and planned a funeral. A week later, Dean was gone, and I was alone. No baby and no boyfriend. It was a really dark time in my life and if it wasn’t for momma and daddy, I would have happily died right along with Everly.
And now, Dean and I are in my apartment. He’s standing in front of the picture hanging on my wall of the three of us. Me, in my hospital bed. Everly, swaddled in my arms. Dean beside me, one hand on Everly the other around my shoulders, his forehead pressed against the side of my head. The only photo I have of the three of us.
We stopped at my apartment after leaving the bar so that I could pack up some things before we went back to his place. He doesn’t want me staying here until we figure out who trashed my car.
“She was perfect,” Dean says, pulling me from my thoughts. “I come back every year on her birthday,” he goes on, shocking the shit out of me. I go every year, too. I go a lot, honestly. But every year on her birthday, I spread a blanket out beside her headstone, and I lay there for hours watching the clouds go by, talking to her.
He must see the surprise written all over my face because he continues talking. “You’ve never seen me because I always wait. Usually in my truck, watching you laying there, talking to her. Imagining what it would be like if she were here. Sometimes, I’d go to moms or Fords and come back to the cemetery late at night when you were gone. But mostly I’d just sit in my truck and wait for you to be done.” He shrugs his shoulders, meeting my eyes finally.
“I had no clue,” a tear slips down my cheek. “I just... I thought...”
He gives me a sad smile. “I know. You thought I just left, never thought about her. I’m sure most of the town did, too.” He shrugs his shoulders, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I hurt, same as you.” I shake my head, tears still streaming down my cheeks. This man. I was so busy mourning my own loss that I never really considered how badly he was hurting too. I spent all these years so angry at him.
Closing the distance between us, I bring my hands up to both sides of his face.
“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry, Dean. I was so broken when Everly died, those days were so dark. I just never... I never considered how dark it was for you, too.” A tear slips from his eye and I swipe it away with my thumb. He settles his hands on my waist and pulls me flush to him, sealing his lips with mine. I give him my weight, pouring my soul into that kiss.
He pulls away all too soon.
“Let’s go home, yeah?” He asks, moving away to grab my bags. I pause for a minute, chewing my thumbnail. My eyes bounce between my bag on Dean’s shoulder and the photo on the wall.
“Could you?” I tilt my head towards the photo, silently asking him to grab it. His brow furrows as he looks between me and the picture. I watch his throat work slowly, emotion causing him to hesitate.
