“What’s wrong? You look freaked out.” Her smile fades the longer I don’t answer her question.
What do I say? I pull my straw halfway out of my soda and then slide it back in several times while my head spins. At this point telling the truth is the only road worth taking.
“Could you be pregnant?”
She drops her fry. “Pregnant? No, of course not.”
“Are you sure? Birth control isn’t infallible you know.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “I’m sure. I’d know if I were pregnant.”
She glares at me like I’ve told her she was stupid or something. I wish I felt better hearing how confident her answer was.
“Okay. Sorry I said anything. Shall we?” I ask as I gather up our ravaged remains to throw away.
She nods, a faraway look in her eyes.
We’re half way out the door of In-N-Out when she turns to me. “Hey can we swing by Krispy Kreme on the way home?”
Good Lord, this woman.
Far be it from me to get in the way of her eating frenzy. “Sure thing.”
We do the drive-thru but then I decide to pull over so I can watch her devour another round of food. It’s entertaining. She keeps smacking her sugar-coated lips and she moans with each bite.
She’s halfway done with her maple bar when her mood suddenly shifts. Her eyebrows knit together like she’s trying to figure out a complicated problem. She turns to me. “Wait a minute. What’s the date again?”
“It’s the fifth, why?”
After frantically dropping the doughnut back in the bag, she rummages through her purse until she pulls out her cell phone. She swipes the screen, her fingers a blur. She looks up at me with an expression of horror and then back down to the screen.
“What?” I ask. She’s freaking me out.
“I’m a week late,” she whispers.
“Are you sure?”
She nods, tears already forming in her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been in such a fog this week that it hadn’t occurred to me. Oh my God, Paul. What if you were right? What if I’m pregnant?” Her expression is twisted with fear like she’s suddenly trapped inside a horror film.
My heart is pounding. This isn’t how I thought this evening would go at all. She looks like she’s slipping down a slippery slope and needs something to hold onto.
I rest my hand on her shoulder and squeeze it before I start up the car. “Let’s make sure first.”
“Where are we going?” Her hands are pressed against her face.
“The drugstore.”
The whole drive she is rocking in her seat chanting, “Oh my God, oh my God,” over and over.
It reminds me of when I did this for my sister her first year of college when she was dating that asshole football player. Luckily her test came out negative. Maybe Elle’s will, too.
When we get to Rite-Aid she’s rocking so hard I’m afraid she’ll hit her head on the dashboard.
“Oh my God, oh my God . . .”
I realize that she’s in no shape to go inside. “Elle, I’ll be right back. Okay?”
She doesn’t respond, just keeps rocking.
I dart out the door and into the store like a man on a mission. I rush down several aisles before I find the potentially preggers section. With the sanitary napkins just to my right, it only takes a few seconds to be reminded that this is no place for a man. I scan the options: Early Detection, First Response, Clear Blue . . . blah, blah, blah. I grab three different choices and head to the front of the store hoping Elle hasn’t passed out in the car yet.
Why there’s a line at Rite-Aid at nine at night, I have no friggin’ idea. Yet it’s my lucky day when my Tinder trainer and pal, Gabe, gets in line behind me with a twelve pack.
“Hey, dude. How’s it going?” he asks, and looks down at what I’m holding before I have a chance to tip it away from his view.
Fuck.
I glance over to the check out stations and curse the old man in the jogging suit that’s demanding a price check.
“Hey, Gabe. I’m good, and you?”
He leans forward. “Well, well, look at that. You gearing up for daddyhood man?”
Damn it all!
“No, man, this is for a friend. I swear.”
“Sure, sure,” he says and gives me a grin.
The jogging suit guy finally finishes up. “Hey Gabe, please don’t say anything to Dad. I swear this isn’t my kid.”
He nods and pats me on my back right before I step forward.
“No worries, dude. This is just between us.”
Back in the car, Elle has added trembling to the rocking and chanting. I place the bag on her lap to buckle my seatbelt and she shoves it off onto the floor. Yeah, this isn’t at all how I thought tonight would go.
“I’m not peeing on a stick, Paul.”
“You’re going to have to, Elle. You need to know for sure.”
“I’m going to wait a few days. Maybe my cycle is off because of traveling.”
I nod. “Maybe. And you said you were really careful about birth control, right?”
“So careful. And Stephan was meticulous about it.”
“Okay, so this test is just for peace of mind. If your birth control was meticulous, then you should have nothing to worry about.”
“Right, right. We went through two boxes of condoms.”
“I really didn’t need to hear that,” I grumble.
“We even used one on the beach.”
“Awesome.” I can’t hide the sarcasm in my voice.
She takes a sharp breath. “The beach!” she wails.
I swerve to the right before gaining control of the car again. “What? What?”
“The sand, the pounding! The condom was messed up when it was over.”
I want to ask more specifics but I’m sure I can’t stomach it. I don’t need to reply though because we’ve just pulled up to her house. I rush around, open her door, and extend my hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
She paces the living room while I tear open the first package and read the instructions. “Let’s get this done,” I say, pointing towards the guest bath. When she opens the door I hand her the stick. “Pee on this part for five seconds.”
I look her in the eyes and all I see is terror. I can’t blame her. In a few minutes her whole life could change. When the door closes I fold my arms and lean back on the wall across from the door. A nervous minute passes and all I hear is silence.
I step up to the door. “You okay?”
“I can’t pee,” she cries out.
“You’ve got to. Mind over matter, Elle. Think of waterfalls or something.”
“What?”
“Just pee, damn it!”
“Asshole,” I hear her mumble.
A minute later the door opens and she hands me the wand. After slipping the cap back on it, I lay it flat on the counter. “Okay let’s walk away for five minutes.”
She nods and heads to the kitchen. With the stiffness of a zombie she takes a bottle of beer out of the fridge, opens it, and hands it to me. It’s not hard to miss that she hasn’t taken one for herself.
“So, busy day tomorrow?” she asks.
I blink at her. She wants to talk about our schedules? Okay, I’ll play that game.
Besides, her vacant expression tells me that she doesn’t give a shit about what my day is like tomorrow but she needs to be distracted.
“Yeah, pretty busy. You?”
“Yes, I have a presentation to a new client I really want to work with.”
“Well, good luck with that.”
She chews on her thumbnail and nods toward the bathroom. “How much more time?”
“A minute and a half.” Her color is shifting to a grayish hue.
“Oh no . . . I think I’m going to be sick.”
She rushes toward the bathroom with me right at her heels. When she curls over the toilet, I sweep her hair off her face and hold it back as she hurls.