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Could she be pregnant? She said she was on the pill.
When her body eventually stills, she leans away from the toilet.
“I think that's all,” she murmurs, struggling to regain her footing.
I assist her in standing, guiding her to the sink so she can brush her teeth and eliminate the bitter taste of bile.
“Why don't we find you something to eat?” I propose after she finishes, stepping out of the bathroom.
Maria wrinkles her nose in disgust. “I'm not really hungry.”
Having expelled the contents of her stomach, she undoubtedly needs sustenance.
“I believe it's time to take you to the doctor,” I suggest, recognizing that enduring this for two and a half weeks isn’t normal.
Maria starts to shake her head, but stops quickly with a wince. "I don't think seeing a doctor will be necessary." She crawls back into bed, turning away from the soft morning that's beginning to filter into my room on this Sunday morning.
“Clearly, something is amiss,” I insist, perching on the bed's edge, so I can observe her wrapped in my comforter.
“I know what's wrong,” she whispers.
“What was that?” I ask again, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, a futile endeavor considering how many have escaped from her messy braid.
“I know what's wrong, I said,” she repeats louder, and her words leave me perplexed.
“You’re pregnant?” I ask, wanting to confirm my suspicion.
She doesn’t immediately say anything but has a look of concentration etched onto her face. I can just barely see her with how high up she has the thick comforter on her.
Finally, she lets her eyes slowly move to me, looking at me straight on. It’s a jarring sight, with how much worry fills her eyes. It’s as if she’s just seen a ghost.
“Tyler, I . . . I think so . . .” she says, and it comes out as a whisper, but this time, I’m sure I heard her.
It’s like my mind turns into nothing but TV static. Just black, white, and gray dots, and the insistent sound of buzzing that I can’t turn off.
I worry that my heart may pound out of my chest.
We had been careful, and it’s not like we’ve been trying to let this happen. I guess I know there’s always the chance, but me? A father? I figured I at least had a little more time before that was to happen.
If her father was going to kill me before, now he will only leave me alive to torture me. He’ll find death to be too merciful for someone like me.
Despite the pace that my mind is running, I can see that Maria’s more scared than I ever could be. And the sight quiets my mind. She’s who I need to worry about first.
“Did you miss your period?” I ask before thinking back to our trip to the Museum of Science. “Is this what happened at the museum? You told me everything was fine.”
“I thought I was fine. I’d thought that maybe I was pregnant . . . but only for a moment because I got my period soon after,” she explains, her eyes filling with tears.
“Then how could you be pregnant?” I ask in confusion.
“Well, right before I threw up just now, I looked up if you could have your period while pregnant,” she says, voice sounding closer and closer to sobbing. “And it said there could be spotting that can be mistaken for a period. How could I not know that? How could I be so ridiculous?
At that, she does start crying. Reaching my hand out, I try to wipe them away from her face as I ask my next question
“Have you taken a test?” I ask softly, hoping that I can somehow make this experience less scary for her.
I took her virginity, and now she’s pregnant. It’s so easy for me to feel like this is all my fault. Not only am I older, but I’m more experienced and should have been more careful.
“No.” She lets her eyes drift away from mine in what feels akin to shame.
