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The store is clean and bright on the inside, contrasting the moody darkness of the mid-spring storm brewing above us. It’s inviting and calming, even though I’m still internally panicking from the context of it all.
I’m more grateful than ever for my ability to speak and read Japanese, because I’d be completely lost if I couldn’t. I’d probably run through every aisle tearing my hair out as I looked for a pregnancy test.
The aisle is all the way to the back of the store, and somehow it feels like there isn’t a square inch of this place that isn’t lit perfectly. The back corner of the store feels just as welcoming as the front, even though this is clearly where all the least desirable products are. Condoms, pregnancy tests, yeast infection medications – they’re all faced in a uniform manner along the front of the shelves.
I grab a handful of them, three to be exact. I figure that three out of three results is likely to give me the most accurate outcome, even though I’m still terrified of what exactly it is. Should I just get one and chance the ability to live in blissful ignorance for a few more weeks?
I decide to do the right thing, taking all the tests and sneaking them to the back of the store where the bathrooms are. I feel terrible for stealing, and I know that Aleksander would kill me if he knew I was doing it, but he gave all of his cash to the man at the restaurant. I have no way of purchasing anything.
Inside of yet again another impossibly bright bathroom, I rip the first test out of the package with a ferocity that I’ve never seen in myself before. My anxiety is beginning to control my ability to maintain my composure, which spells bad news for keeping a secret from Aleksander. I feel like he knows me well enough now to tell when I’m in a bad mood, and he’ll pry until he gets an answer that he wants. I’d rather avoid having to lie to him.
It takes me a few minutes to force myself to pee, but eventually it happens. The stream is weak, but I’m able to catch enough to activate the test. I can’t believe how uncooperative the human body can be when you need it to function well, almost as if it needs convincing to do its job.
Now the wait.
The box advertises results in three minutes, as if five minutes was just too agonizing for anyone to endure. I suppose I appreciate the manufacturer for taking my feelings into consideration, because I certainly don’t want to wait any longer than I absolutely have to.
What am I even supposed to think about while I’m sitting here on the toilet waiting for a pregnancy test? It feels a little absurd when I remove myself from my nerves. I suppose I can try to run through a game plan of how I would tell Aleksander, but I don’t want to do that until we’re in the states, regardless. It would be stupid of me to tell him when I’m thousands of miles away from my support network. I’m not guaranteed a good outcome with him. In fact, I’d say the odds are against me.
How the hell would I even tell my family? They would come after Aleksander’s throat. First, I’m kidnapped and brought out of the country, then I’m knocked up from the person who abducted me? There’s no way in hell I could convince anybody in my life that it was just another stupid unplanned pregnancy. They would create a whole other narrative around it without my input at all, making a victim out of me for the rest of my life.
My friends would be just as concerned, but at least I know they wouldn’t choose to be angry at anyone for it. Still, I have no idea how I would go about regular life as a single mother. This isn’t the life I was supposed to lead at all.
Only another minute before the test turns.
This makes me wonder what my mother felt like when she found out she was pregnant with me. Was she thrilled about it? Did she feel the same way I do? I doubt she could have possibly felt theexactsame way, but I know this isn’t an uncommon place to find yourself when you’re a wayward young woman.
Thirty seconds.
I’m about to jump out of my skin from panic. I feel how I felt right before I almost got into a crash when I was seventeen.
When I look at the little white window, my heart sinks down to the floor.
Two faint pink lines streak across it, greeting me with the most turbulent news I’ve ever received in my life.
Do I even need to take the other tests when I already know enough? I figure that I’ve brought them in here, I might as well get some use out of them. Maybe it’s a waste, but I can’t afford to have any doubt whatsoever in my head or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. I feel like I could throw up.
20
Aleksander
It’s been an hour since Faye left to go on her walk, and it’s starting to rain heavier than it was before. I doubt that she would have run away, but I’m still worried about her. Why would she be out so late? Where could she have possibly gone right before a storm hits?
If I had a little more foresight, I could have probably gotten her a phone by now. I felt uneasy about getting her a phone because of her family and the possibility of being tracked, but now I’m feeling guilty. She needed the time away from me it seems, and now I have to trust that she won’t get herself into trouble while she’s gone.
She doesn’t come back for another twenty minutes, and her expression tells me that she’s distressed. My instinct to protect her goes into overdrive, and I get up off the bed to meet her in the front hallway.
“Hey, what happened? Did someone scare you?” I ask, examining her closely for wounds or other signs of foul play.
She breathes in, exhaling hard as a tear leaves her left eye. “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s not that, I promise.”
It appears that she’s trying to cover up her emotions, because it’s obvious that she’s a lot more upset than she’s letting on.
“Hey, we can’t have secrets between us, okay? Especially not out here. If someone did hurt you, I need you to tell me so I can keep an eye out for them,” I say, taking her hands as she trembles.
“I swear, nobody tried to hurt me. I’m just not feeling well,” she insists.
I know better than to believe that she’s just feeling a little nauseated. She’s in distress, and it bothers me that she doesn’t want to tell me why. Even if it has nothing to do with Grisha, I want to make sure she’s alright.
