Page 62 of All Your Firsts Without Me

As I’m running my fingers through her hair, rinsing the shampoo out, I bring it up. “Um, so I know this should have been something we discussed before, but are you on birth control?”

She stills. “I… no,” she whispers, pulling away from me, turning to face the shower wall.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s my fault, I should have used a condom.”

April starts crying. I place my hand on her shoulder, spinning her to me. “I’m so bad,” she hiccups. “I… I’m stupid. So stupid. My dad was right about me.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not bad. Listen, we can run to the pharmacy tomorrow and get a morning after pill. This isn’t on you. It’s on me too. I should have been prepared.”

She shakes her head, tugging away from me again. Her eyebrows are pulled together in concern. “I… I don’t think I can do that.”

My gaze bounces over her strained features. I pull her to me, wrapping her up in my arms. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

“What are we going to do?” Tears stream down her face.

“First of all, we don’t even know if we have anything to worry about. So, we won’t until we know for sure. Don’t fret, everything will be fine.” I run my palm down her hair.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take one of those pills. It’s… it’s just something I can’t do.”

“It’s okay. I understand. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

She nods, hiding her face under my chin, holding me tight.

After we dry off, we head back into the studio. She sits down, a frown on her face.

“Talk to me.”

“I… I guess I’d given up the idea of having a child of my own. Tonight, was the first time I thought about it even being a possibility.”

“Are kids something you think you want?”

“When I was in the basement, I used to dream about being a mom.” She pulls her legs up and hugs them to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. “Do you remember the neighbor I told you about that made me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”

“Yes.” I sit down in front of her.

“I would pretend I was like her. Her life seemed so normal.” She smiles and lays her cheek on her knee. “She used to read to me while I ate. She had these Disney clubhouse books that I loved. My favorite was Cinderella. There were so many wonderful stories, all full of colorful pictures. Anyhow, I would pretend I had a family of my own and I would read to my kids each night when I tucked them into their warm beds.”

“We had a set of those books. I know exactly what you are talking about.” I run my finger over her leg, needing to touch her.

“She was a wonderful person. Without her I don’t know if I would have had enough good memories to last all those years.”

“Did your own mother read to you?”

She laughs sadly. “The bible. Those were the only words my parents read to me and it was usually about fire and brimstone.”

“I want a family,” I tell her honestly. “After losing my mom and dad, I felt so alone. Logically I knew I could have my own family someday, but back then it seemed so far away, but now…” I let my words trail off. I don’t want to scare her. But if I could start a family with her right now, I would.

“This might be too personal of a question, but I noticed you don’t have any pictures of your family hanging anywhere.” She chews on her lip, anxiously awaiting my response.

I run my hand through my hair. “I haven’t been able to look at them since the accident.”

She nods. “Are you sure you’re okay with me not taking that pill?”

Reaching for her, I pull her onto my lap. “I’m more than okay with it.”

“But what would people say?”

“Once upon a time, a wise man told me he wanted me to fall in love with his wife. I asked him, ‘What will people think?’ You know what he said?”

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