Page 114 of Daddies' Holiday Toy
My hands are shaking before we even make it up to the cashier. I can barely swipe my card, mumbling a quiet “no” when I’m asked if I want a bag.
What I really want is justout.
On the walk back to the shop, my heart is a relentless drumbeat in my ears.
The longer I’m left to my own thoughts, the faster the spiral starts spinning with these terrible, uninvited flashes of all three of them finding out and then telling me this isn’t what they signed up for and leaving.
God…what would I even do in that situation?
If I decide to keep it, would I go after them for child support?
Try to work it out and see if the father would be up for helping me take care of the baby?
How badly will this fracture the arrangement we all have together?
I don’t want to lose any of them, but the possibility of forcing one of them to step up is a terrifying reality.
One that may break their friendship apart.
And that’s not even counting what will happen once my dad finds out.
Getting back to the bakery, I realize I can’t take the test here. I don’t want to. So we slip into Mallory’s car, where I clutch the box in both hands, feeling like it’s something closer to a grenade waiting to detonate than a few pregnancy test kits.
The drive to her apartment feels like forever and no time at all. She keeps glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t say anything.
In a way, I’m grateful for the silence because I can’t handle meaningless conversation right now and Idefinitelycan’t handle discussing anything serious.
By the time we get inside her apartment, my nerves are so fried they’re almost humming.
Her bathroom is small with bright wallpaper, smelling faintly of eucalyptus soap that makes the nausea worse.
I tear into the box with clumsy fingers, almost dropping the contents onto the tile.
Two tests. Two chances to decide my fate.
God, I hope she’s fucking wrong.
I do what I have to do, then set the stick down on the counter, the little screen turned away from me like I can trick it into staying blank.
Mallory stands just inside the doorway with me, arms folded over her chest in the same stiff posture she’s had since the bakery.
Neither of us speaks for a long time.
“How long do we have to wait?” I whisper, my throat dry.
“Three minutes, usually.”
Three minutes…might as well be three years.
I pace the narrow strip of floor between the sink and the door, sitting on the edge of the tub and bouncing my knees, I stand again and stare at the sink without looking at what’s on it while hoping when that result finally pops up, it will be negative.
“So… whatareyou gonna do if it’s positive?” Mallory’s voice is quiet, but it slices right through me.
“I…” My mouth opens, but the rest of the sentence refuses to exist.
I don’t fucking know.
All I know is that I am not ready for whatever comes if that test does turn out to be positive.
