Page 1 of Love Bitters

Imogene

"Shit. Fuck. Shit," I mumble, sitting on the edge of the tub in my bathroom.

I wrap my arms around myself while I wait on the little stick currently sponging my pee to decide whether or not it wants to ruin my life. It's hard as hell not to bite my fingernails down to the quick with nerves. Making it easier, I tuck my hands in my armpits.

It's not enough.

My anxiety kicks into overdrive, forcing me to stand and start pacing the tiny room. Four steps to the door, four steps back to the wall.

This thing says to let it sit for at least three minutes before checking, but I have the impatience of a five-year-old kid and can’t wait that long. Bracing my palms against the counter where the offensive piece of plastic sits, I hold my breath as I internally pray to all that is holy for there to be something seriously wrong with me. How horrible is that? I’d rather have some weird illness than to have a baby growing inside of me. Not that I’m opposed to the baby’s father...not even a little bit. There is, however, the slight problem of not knowing exactly who that might be.

This whole thing makes me want to cry. I’ve been back from my vacation in Tennessee for a few weeks now, and in all of the scenarios I saw for myself, this didn’t even grace the charts. If this little pink stripe pops up, I’ll have even bigger problems.

As per my luck, no matter how much I beg it to stop, that faint line just gets darker and darker by the second. Thank god I’m already standing by the toilet. It’s nothing just to take one step to the right and throw up the rocky road ice cream I had for lunch. In that one moment, I determine I’ll never eat that flavor again. Just the thought of it has me dry heaving until my stomach hurts.

There’s a soft tap at the door as I flush the toilet. “Imogene, are you okay in there?”

“Fine, Mother,” I call out, swiping the back of my hand across my mouth.

Just fine and dandy. I’m still in a fight with my best friends. I’ve got five boyfriends that I’ve been keeping a secret from everyone for weeks. And, oh yeah, one of them just so happens to be the father of the tiny human growing in my body. Fucking fine.

Tears well up in my eyes, and I don’t bother stopping them from spilling out onto my face. My twin sister died less than a year ago, and my trip to the cabin in Tennessee was supposed to be a way to reconnect with my friends. With myself, too, if I’m honest about it. They backed out on me at the last minute, but instead of getting stuck alone inside a massive cabin, the lady I booked through messed up the schedule. She double booked me with five super hot bachelor dudes. They’d invited me to stay, and I’d accepted. For once in my life, I didn’t want to be careful or rational. We’d stayed together for a little over a week. Between the five of them, they made me feel something I hadn’t in a really long time. Seen. Caving to the overwhelming testosterone in the cabin, I slept with all of them, and they reminded me over and over that I didn’t have to be skinny or look like a supermodel to be beautiful.

Lo and behold, as we got to know each other better, it became clear that we were all from the same area. When we left, I was sure they’d forget all about their wintery New Year’s hookup in the cabin. To say that it came as a shock when they not only kept in touch but asked me out on dates, would be an understatement.

Speaking of which, I have one tonight with my sexy redhead and our nerdy, handsome boyfriend. I close my eyes and swear silently with every curse word in my vocabulary. If I go with them tonight, they’ll know something is wrong. Either from my face or when I start puking again, because it’s obviously inevitable.

I didn’t want to risk bringing my phone in here with me, because I knew I’d emotionally text them. Replacing the cap on the stick of misery, I roll it up in the bottom of my shirt before opening the door.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mother asks from where she stands a few steps down the hallway.

“Shit!" I bark, slapping a hand on my heart.

“Language,” she scolds.

I roll my eyes as I start down the hall away from her. “I’m not a kid anymore, Mother, and you scared the bejesus out of me.”

She clears her throat, and I know without looking that her chin is jutting out, making her seem holier than thou. “While under my roof, you don’t swear nor take the lord’s name in vain. If you want to talk like trash, then we’ll put you out on the curb like it.”

“Yes, Mother,” I concede, knowing the more I press, the longer we’ll be here. When I’d really like nothing more than to be in my little downstairs basement room lying on my bed in the dark. Okay, that’s a lie. I’d rather be between my boyfriends, lying next to a fireplace in a cabin in Tennessee.

With the knowledge I now have rolled up and pressed against my stomach, I want to puke again at the thought of telling them. It was probably that night my stupid birth control failed. Probably the fucking alcohol. I suck in a harsh breath to keep the sobs at bay.

The only break I get is when my mother huffs off back the way she came with her angry face on. So be it. At least she’s off my back for now. I don’t handle pressure very well, and as much as I wouldn’t have wanted to, I might’ve cracked if she pressed any harder.

I don’t bother turning on the light once I make it to the bottom of my stairs. Plopping down on my bed, I hug my long body pillow, squeezing it as tightly as my eyes are closed. Tears still find the cracks to flow from. The change I’d always wanted might as well have slapped me in the face. It just wasn’t one I was looking for. An endless series of questions pops into my head one after the other.

What are the guys going to say? Are they going to freak out about who the dad is? There won’t be any way to figure out who the dad is without a DNA test. Will whoever it is even want to be in our lives anymore? What am I going to do?

They’ve all got their lives in order just the way they like it with a shared apartment and no room for a baby. Each of them is in a great place financially, but I don’t want me or my baby to be a burden to anyone. It’s one thing to be living with and pretty much off my parents because I can’t get my shit together. Throw a damn baby into that and it's just pathetic. Some people have to, and I don’t begrudge them that. Being a single parent won’t be easy, but I’m not going to be the person who collapses under that pressure.

With that decision final, I’d saved the hardest decision for last. Not being a burden means I’ll have to let the guys go, too. We won’t know who the baby belongs to until probably after I have it. There are likely ways of telling now, but I’d say they’d be highly uncomfortable. So, until it's born and has distinguishable features, I’m not going to tell them.

A sob rips from my throat, and I bury my face into the pillow to keep it quiet. I’ve come to care for the five of them so much it makes my chest hurt to think about being alone again. The muscles of my stomach contract as I hold my breath to try and contain the sobs. Black spots dot my vision before I let the air out of my lungs.

It’s so ridiculous to get so upset over guys I’ve only known for a little over a month, yet it’s so hard not to. My entire life, I’ve never been the one to stand out from the crowd or make any kind of difference. Beautiful is a word that I’ve never included in a sentence with my own name, but from the moment I met them, all five started changing the way I think about myself. If someone else can find me pretty and worth something, then why can’t I?

This time, the sound that leaves me is more of a weeping wail. I want to be selfish and keep them. I want them to be there to help me through this. I want someone, or five, standing by my side, telling me everything is going to be okay. But it’s not okay, and I’m not that selfish.

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