Page 4 of Ten Years Later
Whatever. It wasn’t like they didn’t know where this encounter ended—in the restaurant’s bathroom, the alley, one of their beds…
Tall, dark, and handsome. At this moment she couldn’t recall his name. Honestly, she didn’t know why he messaged her. Maybe she had “easy sex” written all over her face.
With a packed crowd pressing in on them, they did the usual questions:
What do you do for a living?“Data entry,” she said. She couldn’t remember his response.
Have you always lived in Portland?“Yes,” she said. No clue about him.
Are you from a big family?“No,” she said, her mood dipping.
How old are you?“Thirty-five,” she said. Forty-one for him.
Ever been married?“No,” she said, her mood dipping even more. He had, twice.
They shared one more shot of tequila, then stumbled to the men’s bathroom. He took her in a stall from behind as she braced herself on a tiled wall. She didn’t orgasm but boy did sheput on a good show. So loud in fact someone banged on the stall door, yelling, “Jesus!”
After, he stayed at the bar. Dana took an Uber home. In her one-bedroom apartment, she drank a gallon of water, downed four Advils, and took a shower.
She went to bed, but didn’t sleep. She stared at the ceiling, disgusted with herself. This couldn’t be her life. Once upon a time she held dreams of college, a husband, and the biggest family ever. Her reality centered around aging out of the system with a high school diploma, a data entry job that gave her just enough money to pay the bills, one boyfriend that lasted five years, entirely too many sexual partners to count, and a box of ramen noodles in her kitchen.
There should be more.
Dana got her laptop and brought up a new site she’d recently signed up for—Facebook. She clicked on Mia Ferguson’s profile. They’d gone to the same high school. Mia ran with the popular kids, sure, but she always had a kind word or look for Dana. Beautiful, prosperous Mia who lived in Ponte Vedra, Florida, and sold million-dollar estates.
High school was the last time they spoke, yet Dana still considered them friends.
Set to public, Dana easily cruised Mia’s posted photos, admiring her elegant taste and wishing she wasn’t so mousy.
Still, she sent her a friend request with a message:
Hi old friend. Remember me? We went to high school together. Once upon a time we were lab partners.
Imagine Dana’s surprise when Mia messaged back:
Oh my God! Yes. How are you?
And so began their renewed friendship.
Dana hadn’t felt well in days.
At work she tried her best but spent most mornings in the bathroom throwing up. Toast and unsweetened herbal tea were the only two items she successfully held down.
After a week of stumbling through her work days, the woman in the cubicle next to Dana jokingly said, “Maybe you’re pregnant.”
Those three words should have freaked Dana out, but something deep in her gut twinged with intrigue.
That night, she stopped at a drug store on the way home. She bought three different tests, just to make sure. In her apartment bathroom, she peed on sticks and waited, pacing, getting more excited with the thought.
Exactly three minutes later all three tests came back positive.
Dana squealed.
As if an internal switch flipped, she suddenly held a purpose in this life. She would be the best damn mother to this child who she wanted more than her own life.
She messaged Mia.
Dana: Guess what? I’m expecting!
