Page 88 of Five Summers

“No,” I declare, pushing past her.

“Poppy,” she says again, firmer this time. She snatches my arm, halting me in my tracks.

I feel her strong, insistent grip on my arm, knowing that my mother won’t let go until she finds out what she needs to know. “Show me your bag,” she demands.

“Why?”

And I can already foresee what is about to happen. I’ve never been a fan of that nosy bitch, Mrs. Reynolds. She always interferes with everyone’s business. But it’s unbelievable that in under ten minutes, she has already snitched on me.

My mother forcefully pulls my bag off my shoulder and starts searching through my satchel, clearly determined to find the pregnancy tests. After failing to locate them, she looks up.

“Where are they?”

“Where are what?”

She sighs, clearly frustrated. “Poppy, Andrea phoned me. Why didn't you just tell me?”

I’m contemplating the idea of lying about the pregnancy tests and pretending they were for a friend. But what if it turns out to be true and I am pregnant? Perhaps it would be better to be honest now rather than later.

“How Mom? How could I tell you when all you do is criticize Xander? You clearly hate him. How can I explain to you that I’mhurting because he’s gone and that there’s a possibility I might be pregnant?”

“And that’s where the problem lies, my dear. That's exactly why you should have stayed away from him. Look at the mess you're in now, all because of that lowlife.”

I knew that attempting to engage her in conversation would only result in another onslaught of hurtful words aimed at Xander. I have no interest in enduring her relentless ranting about him, especially since I have more pressing matters to attend to. It truly puzzles me why I even entertained the idea of discussing my problems with her.

With a surge of anger, I forcefully snatch my satchel from her hand and head back to the car. After I open the passenger’s door, I retrieve the three pregnancy tests from the glove compartment. Their weight serves as a poignant reminder of the significance of this moment.

As I near the house, I sense my mother's eyes tracking my every move.

When I reach her on the front patio, I quickly walk around her and enter the house, leaving her standing outside.

The sound of her rapid footsteps echoes behind me, but luckily, I am faster. I quickly make my way to my room and swiftly enter the bathroom, ensuring to turn the lock just in time before my mother approaches. With my heart pounding in my chest, I grab the pregnancy test and tear open the box.

Ignoring the persistent knocking on the bathroom door from my mother, I stare at myself in the mirror. I feel a strong urge to confront this situation head-on. I have no clue how my life will change if the results are positive. But one thing I know is that if I am pregnant, I'll be trapped under my mom's control, with no other choices or places to go.

Letting out a sigh, I release the breath I’ve been holding and make my way over to the toilet to take the test.

“Poppy, open this door right now!” my mother demands, pounding her palm forcefully against it.

Tearing open the plastic sleeve, I retrieve the test and pee on the stick, attempting to block out my mother’s voice and her pounding on the door. Desperately, I pray to God, hoping that my lateness is just a delay and not a pregnancy. Please, please, please don't let me be pregnant.

The knocking abruptly ceases, leaving a chilling stillness on the other side of the door. I can’t help but wonder if my mother has finally left my room.

In an attempt to distract myself, I reach for my phone, set the timer, and settle onto the tiles, leaning against the vanity. The wait is excruciating, each passing second stretching on like an eternity. If I am pregnant, what will I do? Xander has been avoiding my calls and texts ever since he left. I have no clue how else to get in touch with him to let him know.

As soon as the timer goes off, I am immediately brought back to reality, and a shiver runs down my spine. Despite the lump forming in my throat, I muster up the strength to stand, prepared to confront the test results with a newfound sense of bravery. I understand that these next few seconds possess the potential to alter the course of my life.

My heart pounds and the nerves consume me, as I approach the spot where I left the test beside the bathtub. The sight of the word “pregnant” sends my heart sinking, and in an instant, tears flood my eyes. Panic washes over me like a crashing wave. With a heavy heart, I sit on the edge of the bathtub, totally focused on the test. The results leave me in utter disbelief. Oh My God… I’m pregnant.

How on earth did this happen? Now what am I supposed to do? How can I tell my mom without getting an earful about my screw-up?

Feeling overwhelmed by the fear of how my mother will react, I quickly brush away my tears using the back of my hand. I can’t help but wonder if she’s still out there waiting for me to share the information with her.

Slowly, I make my way across to the door.

With my ear pressed against it, I eagerly listen for any sounds coming from the other side. After confirming that it’s safe, I cautiously unlock the door, preparing myself for any unexpected noises or movements. Much to my astonishment, I discover my mother sitting on the edge of my bed.

As the door creaks open, she lifts her head and her gaze falls upon my tear-streaked face, a clear indication of my sorrow. Anticipating a barrage of angry and hurtful words, I steel myself for the storm. However, much to my surprise, she stands before me, arms wide open, ready to embrace me.

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