Page 29 of Final Down

“I know this place is temporary, and it’s not reallyoursours, but it’s our first on our own. I wanted to decorate it my way, and do things on our own, and just . . .” She blinks a few times and sits back on the couch, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Babe, we should get you out of the wet clothes. Let me carry you.” I scoop her into my arms and carry her to the main bathroom where all her toiletries and our towels are still in the department store bags we bought them in this morning.

I flip the shower on to warm the water as Peyton slips out of her shorts and bra. She sits on the closed toilet to pull her wet socks from her feet when she suddenly freezes, her mouth falling open.

“You okay?” I drop to a knee and touch her chin. Her eyes flicker to mine but remain as wide as her mouth. I can’t tell if she’s in shock, about to be sick, or suddenly remembered something deeply important, like leaving a stove burner on.

“Peyt?”

She blinks a few times, then licks her lips before pulling them in tight. Her smile shows itself slowly at first, and I mirror her expression, mostly because I have no clue what is going on, and she’s acting really weird.

“Wy, I think you need to run to the drugstore. Like, now. I need to pee on a stick.”

I stand up before her words fully register but stop after taking a step toward the door. I flip around to face her again.

“Wait, you think . . .”

She nods, but her movement is subtle, like she doesn’t want the universe to see her say yes.

“Shit. Uh, okay. Yeah. There’s one down the block. I’ll just . . .” I spin in place a few times before Peyton breaks me from my daze.

“Just go!” she tells me.

Panic rushes through my veins and I’m finding it hard to function. I can’t locate my keys, my phone, or my wallet. I can barely find my way out of the bathroom. I center myself for a breath in the kitchen, where I spot my wallet and phone.

“Lock up behind me,” I shout, flying out the door and down the hallway to the elevator. I press the button a few times, but when I don’t hear any movement coming from the elevator shaft, I opt for the stairs.

The stairwell exits into the back of the mailroom, and I zip by a couple checking their mailbox as I rush to the lobby and out the main doors. The rain seems to have let up, but the sidewalks are wet and the roads puddled. I splash my way across the street, dunking my already soaked shoes at least six times before reaching the drugstore. I don’t know what sort of test Peyton usually buys, and I’m not sure what the difference is between the fifteen-dollar kit and the thirty-dollar one, so I snag an assortment and rush to the checkout.

I ring myself out and forget to opt in to pay for a bag, so I gather up the five tests I chose and tuck them into my T-shirt the way I collected Easter Eggs when I was a kid. My shoes squish against the sidewalk, but I manage to make it back to our apartment without pouncing my feet into a deep puddle again. I’m about to knock on our door when Peyton flings it open, and I dash inside.

“Were you waiting there for me?”

Peyton nods, locking the door behind her as she guzzles down the last few sips in a twenty-four-ounce water bottle.

“I’ve been drinking water since the moment you left so I can go,” she laughs out before waving me toward the bathroom.

I’m panting as I stride through our bedroom, the shower still going strong. The steam is making it warm in here, and coupledwith the humidity outside and the dose of adrenaline that’s soaking my organs, I feel a little bit like throwing up.

I drop the boxes on the counter before reaching into the shower and killing the spray while Peyton rips into the most expensive test kit I bought and reads the pamphlet.

“What can I do? Do you need me to get you more water? Do you need me to mix something or make you food?”

I have no idea how this shit works, and I feel pretty fucking useless.

My wife chuckles and hands me her empty water bottle.

“More water. I can’t have too much water.”

I nod, happy to get direction. I fill her bottle at the kitchen sink, making a mental note to set up the water filter tomorrow, then head back to the bathroom in time to catch Peyton about to go.

“Leave!” She waves me back out the door, and I flip around the corner and flatten my back against the wall.

“I’ve seen you pee before, babe. We’ve been together for a decade.” I laugh at the absurdity of the moment.

“I know, but I don’t want to get shy. I need to go while I can, and just . . .shh!”

I bite my lip and hold in my laugh before uttering a quiet, “Okay.”

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