Page 60 of Harper

You’re not pregnant. You’re not.

When I get to the register, Neena looks down at the little pink and white box, then up at me. I watch as her eyes slide to the person in line behind me. Her smile brightens up her whole face.

“Hey, Joe!” she chirps. “How’s it going?”

***

Joe

“Good enough, Neena. How you doing?”

“I’m good. Just waiting for this little one to get here,” she says, rubbing her enormous belly.

I know that it’s Harper Stewart standing in front of me, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her in two torturous weeks. My mouth waters. My heart sings.

And even if she tries to be, she can’t be mad—I truly am just bumping into her. I came into the Fairway on my lunch break to grab granola bars and Keurig cups for the station break room. That’s it. I had no idea she’d be in here shopping too.

Just lucky, I guess.

“Hey, Harper,” I say, fixing a grin on my face.

She turns around, her eyes wide, her face ashen. “J-Joe.”

Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong.

My blood runs cold. When I reach out to touch her arm, she flinches, taking a step away from me. Every protective bone in my body stands at the ready to help her, to comfort her, to do or be whatever she needs.

“Harper, are you okay?”

“I’m…I’m…”

“Harper,” says Neena, holding up a box. “I think this is on sale, two for one. You want me to check?”

“No!” yells Harper, turning back to Neena.

And that’s when I focus on what Neena is holding up in her hand. First Results Early Pregnancy Test.

A pregnancy test? Why is Harper buying a pregnancy test?

“No, Neena! Please, just—it’s not…” She looks at me, then back at Neena. “I don’t—I don’t care. Just…” She slaps a ten-dollar bill on the conveyor belt and snatches the test out of Neena’s hand.

As Harper races out of the store, Neena yells, “What about your change?”

A pregnancy test. Holy shit. Harper just bought a pregnancy test.

“Give it to me!” I bark at Neena. “Give me her change, and I’ll give it to her!”

I grab the money, throw my snacks on the belt, and run after Harper.

“Joe!” calls Neena to my back. “You want this stuff or what?”

I don’t answer. I hoof it to the parking lot, where Harper is slamming the driver’s door of her car shut. I stand at the window and knock on it. She looks at me, then looks down at her lap.

“Harper,” I say, “open the window. Now.”

She doesn’t move.

“Harper, we need to talk.”

---