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I can see how much it hurts Sebastian too by the way we’re texting. After the first few days I realize I’ve been hanging out with Sophie just tomaybecatch a glimpse of Sebastian, so I stop bothering her so much. It even starts making me sick. Nauseatingly so. To the point where in the mornings, I need something salty to eat. Like crackers or toast.
Two weeks in is the worst. I wake up on Saturday, and I vomit on my way to the bathroom. It’s horrid. With the sun pouring in through my window it stinks immediately and makes me sick again.
That’s when it hits me.
It might not be the heartbreak of not being able to see Sebastian…
But Sebastian is definitely involved.
The realization makes me drop the vomit soaked tea towel. The nausea moves and I sprint to the bathroom again. I can’t stop the vomit from coming up. I retch into the bowl and feel worse. I need some crackers. I get up and drag myself to my little pantry. Within minutes, I feel better.
I could be pregnant?
I begin boiling the kettle to make coffee, then stop doing that too. Well, I’m not pregnant yet, as in, I don’t know if I am. I could have coffee. I know Sophie used to have one.
But I grumble to myself and would rather know and be certain. I throw on some easy clothes and walk out of my apartment and into the morning heat. The sun is rising and baking the sidewalk, it feels like it takes an eternity to walk to the little corner store. I edge through the pharmacy, buying a few packets of tests, reliving the exact same trip I did four years ago for Sophie. Once paid, I make the epic journey back down the street to my apartment. The stairs mock me as I climb them, and I regret not having had some breakfast before leaving. I need more of those damn crackers.
I enter the apartment and grab a drink immediately. I don’t need to pee, but a few cups will get me ready soon enough.
I go about having breakfast, trying to keep my head. Before I know it, I need to pee. After completing thefunstage, I have to spend the next two minutes waiting.
I sit on the toilet hugging my legs.
I’d just managed to have a morning without thinking about Sebastian, just managed to have a morning where I thought I could survive this, whenthishit me.
I stare at the sticks and twist my lips, They’re still not ready.
But what if I am pregnant? What ifwe'repregnant? Am I going to tell Sebastian? Of course! There would be no hesitation. There would be no doubt at all. These two weeks of solid work have only proven to me that we want each other. Need each other. Even if we keep ignoring the Carlos part.
A rage suddenly burns inside me, I feel so stupid for the way we’re acting. I’m giving myself so much anxiety over what he’ll think but who cares. Why are we so considerate of him when he’s barely been considerate of me my whole life? Why are we running around in secret when it isn’t even our problem being together?
I jab at the tests, they’re still cooking away and not ready.
I growl and get up.
Damn, the bathroom is too small to wait in. I’m too nervous and frustrated. I prowl to the kitchen and grab the box of crackers. My stomach rumbles. “Shut it,” I snap. “I’m feeding you!”
It seems with pregnancy, potential pregnancy,that I've turned into a crazy lady.
I head back to the bathroom, my claws clutching the box and throwing crackers in my mouth. I look at the sticks on the counter, and then—
Freeze.
All the sticks are positive. I’m looking at twin lines all across the board. I got a baby in my pee.I have a baby in me!
I break at the knees and collapse against the cool tiles. My body floods with endorphins, and all the anxieties and worries wash over me then. I see Sebastian's face, I see Carlos’ face. I also see my mother’s and Sophie's, everyones. I imagine telling them all. I imagine Sebastian and I at the park with a little boy or girl. I see us at the beach. The movies. I see us having fun as a family and—
I reach up and take the rest of the sticks into my hand. I look at all of them as if they’re precious gifts. It took these little sticks just two minutes to tell me what I really want.
I want to be a mother.
By the time I pick myself up off the floor, do a happy dance, and then force myself not to text Sophie excitedly, I get dressed and I allow myself one cup of coffee before tidying up and putting on my shoes. I grab the keys for the car and then, losing all orderly manners, I run for my car and drive excitedly for Sebastian’s.
The traffic can’t even piss me off as I make my way across town. The humidity doesn’t even bother me, as it frizzes my hair and makes my car stink like a jar of pickles. The sun burning off the puddles doesn’t blind me but dazzles me. As I park in front of Sebastian’s apartment building, and see the kids all hurrying to the side of the street to let traffic pass, I imagine that someday it will be our kids.
Our kids…
Will there be more?
