Page 33 of Prince of Tides
I snorted and looked at the stick again, picking it up off the bathroom counter. It was awfully hard to make a mistake when the little screen on it actually used words.
2-3 Weeks
Although the little plastic test might not be able to narrow it down any more than that, I certainly could. Unless it was an immaculate conception, there was only one occurrence in nearly a month and a half that could have caused my situation.
Situation. What a cold word.
“You’re pregnant,” I said, pulling up my pants and standing. I eyed myself in the mirror. “Say it. You’re pregnant. That’s what it is.”
I was pregnant.
My knees suddenly wobbled, and I slid to the floor. Tears sprang from my eyes, and I began to cry. So many emotions filled me at that moment.
Fear. Regret. Confusion. Anger. Sadness.
Hope. Joy.
None of them could beat out the others, and the storm of hormones that came with it ensured I spent a good long time crying my eyes out.
At some point, the tears dried up, and I was left sitting on the cool tile of my condo’s primary bathroom.
“There’s nothing you can do about it down here,” I told myself, taking a deep breath in, then letting it out. My hands were still shaking.
That time I got up and stayed up. I could cry. Sob. Scream. Break things. I would let myself do all that. But not alone.
A quick call and a rideshare later, I was outside Melanie’s cute little three-story walk-up townhouse. She lived on the city’s edge, not quite the burbs, but not downtown. It was a lovely neighborhood, with trees that, while not old and stately, were mature. The sidewalks and driveways were plowed and clean. Everything kept in good shape. I liked where she’d chosen to live.
“Hi,” I said as my sister opened the door, still in her pajamas. “Sorry to ruin your lazy Saturday.”
“It’s eight-thirty in the morning. I don’t work. I don’t have a boyfriend or a dog. I’m just taking my time getting ready, not living in them all day,” she said. “Tomorrow, though …”
I smiled as I took off my coat and boots and made myself at home. I almost went to the pot of coffee, but then I declined.
“No coffee?” Mel asked suspiciously, noting my behavior. “Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?”
“I’m a little green man from Mars now,” I said. “Ak-ak, yak, ak-ak-kak.”
She stared at me. “Huh?”
“Never mind, you wouldn’t get the reference,” I said. “No coffee for me.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not good.”
“You fucking love coffee,” Mel said, following me as I went and sat on her couch.
“I know. I do. Which is why giving it up is going to be damn hard.”
“Giving it up?” Mel narrowed her eyes, searching my face. “What’s going on?”
I sighed. “Don’t … don’t freak out, okay? You’re going to want to, but that isnotwhat I need right now.”
“Are you okay? Are you sick?”
“Only in the mornings,” I muttered.
It took Mel about three seconds for her eyes to go wide. “Are youserious?”
