Page 26 of Better as It

I wave a hand. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re pale. You’re clammy.” She waves over to the soup container, “and you only eat soup when you can’t keep food down. You need to take a flu test, sister!”

“It’s not flu season and I don’t have sinus issues. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Maritza studies me for a moment. “Dia, brace yourself. But could you be pregnant?”

The words hit me like a slap to the face or a cold water bath in the midst of a good sleep. I think about my cycle. When was my last period? Before Benji died. I thought the stress made me skip the first month. But thinking on it now, the period nevercame. Not a single cycle since he passed away. A lump swells in my throat and I swallow hard, arms wrapping around myself.

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a cycle, Maritza. What do I do? I didn’t even think about it.”

Maritza doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, soft but firm: “Let’s go find out.”

We drive in silence. The kind that isn’t awkward, but charged. My hands won’t stop trembling, and I catch Maritza glancing at them more than once. She doesn’t ask questions. Just parks in front of the CVS like we’re grabbing gum, and walks in with me.

We don’t talk as we head to the aisle. She picks out three different brands. Just in case, like I guess one isn’t good enough. Are false negatives or false positives that common? I’m in over my head here for sure.

At the register, I feel like I’m screaming look at me just by being there. I’m the girl who might be pregnant with a dead man’s baby or because I’m a lustful whore and slept with my ex it could be his. Either way I might be having a baby by a man who shattered my heart. The cashier doesn’t blink, she doesn’t seem the least bit rattled that my world is crumbling. She bags them, takes the cash, and hands me my receipt like it’s nothing.

Maritza takes the bag, “we’re not doing this here in some drug store bathroom. You want to do it at your place or mine?”

I feel the heat flush my cheeks, “no way Karma needs to be in on this.” Karma is her man. They have a great life together now and I don’t need him first thinking she’s pregnant. And I really don’t need him to know the test is mine and saying anything to my family or Toon about me potentially being pregnant. If it’s Benji’s baby, it will be this lasting gift from him. My family will overwhelm me during a time I want to embrace this little piece from the man who loved me. If Toon finds out and it turns out to be his … well, where does that leave us?

I don’t want him to be with me for his kid. Do I even want to be with him? The thoughts run crazy in my mind. While I hesitate to admit this even to myself … yes, I want Justin. I never stopped wanting him. It sucks. It makes me a horrible person. I loved Benji and always will but nothing will ever touch the love and passion Justin and I shared. I never wanted the high of his embrace to leave me. Even after he left I would have done anything to have him back. He’s my person.

He's my partner. The one who sees I can’t carry the load alone and steps in. He listens without judgment and advises me when I ask for it, but otherwise he allows me to use him as a sounding board to simply release all the things pent up inside me.

Benji loved me. He cherished me. But he didn’t silently understand me. I don’t think I ever honestly allowed him the space to do that. It’s this part of me that somehow always belongs to Justin.

The part of me, the ability in me to be me, good, bad, ugly, and beautiful.

Back in the condo, I sit on the edge of the tub, the box shaking in my grip. The cup of pee sitting on the counter taunting me. Maritza kneels in front of me.

“You want me to wait out here?”

I nod.

I don’t want her to see my face when the truth lands. Although, she is my best friend, I don’t know how to tell anyone that I’ve slept with Justin. The shame washes over me once again. But it’s not shame for sleeping with him. It’s more like guilt for not having respect for Benji.

“I just needed to feel something,” I mutter to the space around me. “It doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

Five minutes later, I’m staring at the stick on the bathroom counter.

Two lines.

Two very clear, no-mistaking-it lines.

My mouth goes dry. My body goes still.

I don’t feel joy. Or hope. I feel...fear.

This isn’t a blessing. Not right now. Not like this. I flush the toilet though I didn’t use it a second time. I wash my hands three times. I walk out holding the stick in a paper towel like it might bite me.

Maritza’s standing by the kitchen island, arms crossed, face tight. When she sees me, her expression softens. “So?”

I set it down between us. She doesn’t say “congrats” or “oh my God.” Just nods once, lips pressed together. “You want me to stay? Or do you need time to process alone?”

“I need to breathe.”

---