Page 11 of This Means War

“You just don’t want me to hear you pee,” he guesses. Well, he’s got me there.

“Is it so wrong that I don’t want you listening?” I say.

“Let’s do it together then.”

“What?” I rip open the wrapper around the test, trying to make sense of his words.

I hear the stall door next to me open, then the sound of a zipper. “You know,” his voice comes from the stall next to mine. “Pee. On the count of three.”

I feel a strange urge to laugh at this absurd bit of poetry.

“No one’s watching the door,” I protest, even as I get in position.

“We’ll risk it,” he replies. “Now stop dilly-dallying. Ready?” I nod even though he can’t see me, and he starts counting. “One...two...three.” And together we pee.

A minute later we stand at the sink. Our hands clasped as we stare at the stick. It’s like we’ve called a temporary truce for just these few minutes. My heart is racing as I watch that tiny ovular screen. One second it’s just a blank gray, then there it is. Our answer. I let out the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding and collapse into Cole’s arms, crying into the father of my baby’s shoulder.

Cole

I’m not sure howlong we stand there, my arms wrapped around Lydia as we both process the reality of this news. She’s pregnant. She’s going to have a baby.I’mgoing to have a baby. Even though we both suspected this would be the outcome of the test, having it confirmed like this makes it that much more real.

It’s only when the bathroom door starts to open that we spring apart, and Lydia swipes the test off the counter and into her waiting purse. An older woman with large glasses steps in and surveys us suspiciously.

“What’re you doing in here, young man?” She chides me, then her eyes land on Lydia, registering her red face and bloodshot eyes. “Oh, come now. Tell me he isn’t trying to dump you in a women’s restroom?” She clucks her tongue. “Oh honey, don’t cry over a man like that. You’re very pretty you know, even with mascara all over your cheeks. I’m sure you’ll find someone else soon enough.”

“I wasn’t–” I begin, but Lydia interrupts.

“Oh thanks,” she says to the woman, “but actually he’s being really sweet to me on account of I just found out–”

“Woah there, Samantha,” I cut in with a forced chuckle as I realize she’s about to blab our secret to this stranger, “we should get you back to the wedding. They’ll be wondering where you got off to.” I take her arm and practically drag her out of the bathroom, leaving the inquisitive woman behind.

“What was that?” Lydia asks with a huff once we’re back in the hallway. She yanks her arm back. “Why’d you call me Samantha?”

“You’re wondering what I was doing?” I’m incredulous. “You were just about to blab about your,” my eyes dart around checking the surroundings, and I lower my voice, “pregnancyto a complete stranger in a bathroom.”

“Yeah, so.” She shrugs. “Easier to tell her than anyone we actually know.” I gape at her.

“You do realize that she could go tell anyone she wants to about this.”

“What?” She waves a hand, dismissing myconcern, “Who is she going to tell? And even if she does tell someone, who cares? It’s not as if we walk in the same circles or like she even knows who we are.”

“She might know who we are.” I know I’m being a little crazy, but the potential for scandal here is so great that I can’t take any chances. Yeah, we’re all the way down in Florida, but if we’re down here from Michigan for a wedding, who’s to say there aren’t others from Michigan as well.

“Um, I doubt that.” Lydia rolls her eyes. “Thanks to you she thinks I’m called Samantha.” She pauses, and something seems to click into place. “Ohhh,” she says, “this is about what you said earlier isn’t it? Your–how did you phrase it again? Oh right, your ‘political career.’” She puts the last two words in air quotes as if my lifelong dream is a joke. “What are you running for– president of your local jerks’r’us chapter?”

“No, I’m running for mayor of Holland,” I tell her plainly, and her eyes bug out a little. “And I’m hoping to win, then use a successful tenure as mayor to buoy myself into the running for state senator one day. So yeah, I’m a little wary of having a pregnancy scandal leak out right at the beginning of my career.”

Lydia studies me for a second, then raises her eyebrows. “Funny, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you had sex with me.”

Without another word she whirls around and practically sprints away from me. I’m struck dumb for a second; and then, since I can’t very well shout “but we used a condom” down the hall, I just stand there watching her go. It would’ve been a mistake to point that out, since—and not that I would ever tell her this—she’s absolutely right. I’m totally to blame here. Speaking of which, I never did manage to apologize to her. I run a frustrated hand through my hair, annoyed with how badly I’m bungling this up. Once again, I’m the self-centered jerk who can’t handle the consequences of my actions. If jerks’r’us were a real thing, I’m pretty sure I’d have the presidency in the bag.

Chapter 10

Lydia

I beg off fromthe reception early. I think even my mom can tell I’m not feeling well, because she doesn’t give me a hard time, just tells me I can use the limo if I want. Almost as soon as I’m back in the privacy of my bedroom at my parents’ house, I pull out my phone and start googling Cole. I can’t believe what I find. He is legit running for mayor of the city of Holland, like he has a website where I can donate to his campaign and everything. He’s running against the incumbent mayor, some guy named Ferris Arnold. I scroll through his site noting that among the bullet points of what he stands for, the words “family values” are listed. I eye my stomach and start to genuinely wonder how this pregnancy will affect his campaign.

Then my mind goes to my own life. I’m 24-years-old, unmarried, and pregnant. To think a few days ago I thought it would be hard for me to find a good Christian guy to marry who wouldn’t care about my non-virginal status. Finding one whowon’t care about a pregnancy and child makes my old worries laughable. Fear grips me. I’m going to be all alone. Maybe forever. What will my parents say? They’re both bigshot lawyers who’ve carefully crafted names for themselves in their community. They definitely won’t appreciate this blight on their name. What about the people at my church? They’re a warm, welcoming bunch, but this is a pretty big deal. Yes, all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, but my stomach is about to become a billboard advertising just how far I’ve fallen short of His glory.

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