Page 7 of Friar
I slipped the test into the pocket of my pajama pants and crept to my bedroom door.The hallway stretched before me, longer than it had any right to be, the bathroom door at the far end my destination.I moved silently, placing each foot with deliberate care, avoiding the spots I knew would betray me with their creaks and groans.
The bathroom door opened with a soft click that sounded thunderous in the quiet house.I slipped inside, locking the door behind me.The small space felt both safe and suffocating, the white tiles and flowered shower curtain unbearably normal in the face of what I was about to do.
I pulled the test from my pocket, tore open the box with shaking fingers.The plastic stick seemed impossibly small for something with the power to destroy everything.I read the instructions again, though I’d memorized them weeks ago when I’d first bought it.Pee on the stick.Wait three minutes.One line means not pregnant.Two lines means…
My heart slammed against my ribs as I followed the instructions, the test clutched in my sweaty hand.Then I placed it on the counter, on top of a folded hand towel embroidered with the words “Bless This Home.”
Three minutes.I paced the small space, five steps one way, five steps back, my bare feet silent on the cool tiles.I counted seconds in my head, losing track and starting over.I bit my lower lip until I tasted copper, the pain a welcome distraction from the fear.
What if it was positive?What would I do?Where would I go?Uncle Pete and Aunt June would throw me out for sure.Their righteousness didn’t extend to unwed mothers, especially ones who’d lain with men from motorcycle clubs.I’d be cast out, just like every cautionary tale they’d ever told about girls who strayed from the path of virtue.
The test sat on the counter, a ticking bomb waiting to explode my carefully constructed life.I couldn’t look at it yet.Instead, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing the pale, frightened girl looking back at me.Dark circles shadowed my eyes, my lips bitten raw.I looked guilty.I looked terrified.I looked exactly like what I was -- a girl in trouble.
When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I forced myself to look down at the test.Two pink lines.Clear and unmistakable.Two pink lines that rewrote my entire future in an instant.
My knees gave out.I sank to the bathroom floor, the cold tiles shocking against my skin.A strangled sound escaped my throat, something between a gasp and a sob.I pressed my hand hard against my mouth to muffle the noise, terrified that Uncle Pete would hear from his study, that Aunt June would wake early and find me like this -- broken on the bathroom floor with the evidence of my sin clutched in my hand.
Pregnant.I was pregnant.The word echoed in my head, foreign and terrifying.My free hand drifted to my stomach, fingers splaying across the cotton of my pajama top.Something was growing inside me.Someone.
Whose?The question hit me like a physical blow, stealing what little breath I had left.Friar with his hazel eyes that seemed to change color in the neon lights, his distinctive reddish-blond hair falling across his forehead as he’d leaned down to kiss me?Nugget with his easy smile and laughter, his body solid and warm against mine as he’d taught me to play pool?Or Nigel, the eager Prospect with hungry eyes who’d plied me with sweet drinks, whose hands had grown bolder with each passing song?
I couldn’t remember everything from that night.Parts were clear -- crystal images that burned in my memory.Others were hazy, distorted through a lens of alcohol and desire.I remembered following Friar down that hallway, remembered the door closing behind us.But after that… fragments.Touches.Whispers.But not enough to know for certain whose child might now be growing inside me.
Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable.My stomach churned with nausea -- morning sickness or terror, I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.I curled into myself on the bathroom floor, cradling my middle as if I could somehow protect the life inside from the storm that was coming.
What was I going to do?The question pounded in my head, matching the rhythm of my racing heart.The only answer that came was silence.
* * *
I perched on the edge of my bed, fully dressed in jeans and a sweater, listening to the sounds of the house settling into sleep.It was just past eleven -- Uncle Pete’s snores had started fifteen minutes ago, followed soon after by Aunt June’s softer breathing.I’d memorized their rhythms over the years, learned to gauge the depth of their sleep by the cadence of their breaths.Tonight, I needed them deep in dreams, oblivious to what I was about to do.My fingers fidgeted with the cross necklace I still wore, the silver warm from my nervous touch.I hadn’t taken it off, even after this morning’s discovery.Maybe some part of me still hoped for divine intervention, though I knew better than to expect miracles.
I waited another ten minutes, counting seconds in my head.The house creaked and sighed around me, old wood contracting in the cool night air.When I was certain they wouldn’t stir, I slipped on my sneakers, lacing them quietly.My car keys were already in my pocket, the metal warm from being clutched in my palm for the past half hour.
The window was my exit strategy this time.I slid it up slowly, grimacing at the faint squeak of wood against wood.A cool breeze rushed in, carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine from Aunt June’s garden.I eased my body through the opening.My feet found the roof of the back porch, the shingles rough beneath my sneakers.From there, it was an easy drop to the soft grass below.
With one last glance at the dark windows of the house, I crept across the lawn toward the street where I’d parked my car earlier, claiming I needed to clean out the trunk.The night wrapped around me like a cloak, hiding me from prying eyes as I slipped into the driver’s seat.I turned the key in the ignition, wincing at the engine’s rumble, and eased away from the curb without turning on my headlights until I was a safe distance from the house.
The streets were nearly empty, most of the town already asleep or at least tucked away behind closed doors.Streetlights cast pools of yellow that my car slid through like a ghost.My hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly, knuckles white with tension.I’d been driving these roads since I was sixteen, but tonight every stop sign and traffic light felt like an obstacle between me and the one person I could trust with my secret.
Madison.My only real friend in this town.Well, sort of a friend.The closest thing I had to one.The only one who knew about my night at the Reckless Kings clubhouse -- though not all the details.Not the parts about Friar and the hallway, or Nugget and the pool table.But she knew I’d gone.
Dot’s Diner appeared ahead, its neon sign flickering in the night, red and blue light spilling onto the empty parking lot.OPEN 24 HOURS, it promised in buzzing tubes.I pulled into a spot near the door, killing the engine but not immediately getting out.My reflection stared back at me from the rearview mirror -- pale face, dark circles under my eyes, lips pressed into a thin line of determination.I looked exactly like what I was: a girl with a secret eating her alive.
The bell above the door jangled as I stepped inside, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet diner.Only three other people occupied the space -- a tired waitress wiping down the counter, an elderly man hunched over a newspaper in the corner booth, and Madison, already waiting for me in our usual spot by the window.Two mugs of steaming coffee sat on the table before her, the smell making my stomach turn slightly.
Madison looked up as I approached, her jet-black hair falling in a straight curtain around her sharp features.At seventeen, she already carried herself with a confidence I envied, her piercing blue eyes missing nothing.She’d been raised by her grandmother after her parents died, growing up with fewer restrictions than most kids in our conservative town.It made her both an outcast and my lifeline to normalcy.
“You look like shit,” she said by way of greeting as I slid into the booth across from her.
“Thanks,” I muttered, wrapping my hands around the warm mug but not drinking.“Love you too.”
She studied me, head tilted to one side.“You’re late.Your warden giving you trouble?”
I shook my head, my fingers automatically finding the cross at my neck, twisting the chain until it bit into my skin.“Uncle Pete and Aunt June were asleep before I left.I just… needed a minute before coming in.”
“Okaaay…” Madison dragged the word out, clearly sensing there was more.She took a sip of her coffee, watching me over the rim of her mug.“You gonna tell me why this middle-of-the-night meeting couldn’t wait until tomorrow?Or why you look like you haven’t slept in a week?”
I glanced around the diner, ensuring no one was within earshot.The waitress had disappeared into the kitchen.The old man was engrossed in his newspaper, a hearing aid visible in his ear.We were as alone as we could be in a public place.
