one eye. “Is it the number of a lawyer to sue the Chinese place?”
Candace shook her hand and plopped a plastic sack onto Leah’s chest.
Leah frowned at it. “What is it?” she asked, not courageous enough to peek inside.
“Open it,” Candace ordered.
Leah refused to move.
“Don’t be a baby—Oops.”
Leah glared at her.
“Just open it.”
Leah rustled the bag and pulled out a shrink-wrapped blue box. She groaned. Loudly. “Not this crap again.”
“Leah, I’m telling you, get up, go into that bathroom, and don’t come out until you’ve peed on one of those sticks!”
Too sick and too tired to argue, Leah hauled herself up and trekked to the bathroom with the bag. It all seemed ridiculous and entirely too surreal. When she was finished, she laid the plastic oracle on the sink’s counter and slipped out of the bathroom, where she was beginning to feel too claustrophobic, and headed into the living room where breathing seemed easier.
“Well?”
“It takes three minutes!”
Candace threw up her hands. “Well, I don’t know. I’ve never taken one.”
“This is a huge waste of time. And money. I’m not pregnant.”
“How much would you be willing to bet?” asked Candace.
Leah kept her mouth shut. She’d gambled once before and now she was waiting for the wheel to stop turning. She and Candace stood in silence, running out the clock.
Candace checked her watch and then glanced at Leah. “Do you want to look?”
“No!”
“Do you want me to look?”
“ No! ”
Candace smirked at her. “Do you want to call Shirley next door and have her look?”
Leah cast her a dirty look.
“You kids,” Candace said in a gravelly voice, fingers to her lips pretending to smoke a Marlboro, “with your phones. It’s a wonder you can get pregnant what with all that texting.”
Leah snorted. “Do not call Shirley. And she shouldn’t smoke around the baby anyway.”
“So you do think you’re pregnant!”
Leah flopped onto the couch and inspected the waistband of her jeans once again. She had no idea what being pregnant felt like. But she had missed her period and any other reason—the only other possibility—was not one she was going to let herself think about just yet. She couldn’t go down that road again. If that was the case, well…she knew what she had to do.
“Are you sure it’s been three minutes?” she asked Candace. It seemed like a ridiculous question but time was moving strangely ever since she’d exited the bathroom. For all she knew, she could’ve been sitting here for 3 seconds or 3 years. Swirling thoughts and questions were pounding in her head. Could she afford a baby? How was she going to tell her parents? What would the baby’s last name be?
Would the baby survive?
That last one had her stomach twisting in knots so she shook her head fervently, willing the thought away.
“It’s done, Leah,” Candace said quietly, exchanging her Shirley face for a measured, concerned look. “All you have to do is look. You can’t change it either way. It’s just knowing or not knowing at this point.”
Leah had spent a lifetime on the razor’s edge of knowing and not knowing, waiting for test results to confirm her worst fears or give her a stay of execution. She was grimly surprised to find she wasn’t more used to it by now. But then again this was entirely new territory. She wiped her hands on her jeans and stood up on shaky legs, echoing the whiskey walk that had gotten her here in the first damn place and stepped into the bathroom.
Pregnant, not pregnant, that’s all she had to read in the little window.
Pregnant, her life was about to change.
Not pregnant, her life would go back to being the same daily grind of work and bills.
Pregnant, not pregnant.
Three long minutes.
Two possible outcomes.
One incredible night.
Leah took a deep breath, held it for a long moment then let it out slowly. Then she picked up the stick off the counter.
“What does it
Candace shook her hand and plopped a plastic sack onto Leah’s chest.
Leah frowned at it. “What is it?” she asked, not courageous enough to peek inside.
“Open it,” Candace ordered.
Leah refused to move.
“Don’t be a baby—Oops.”
Leah glared at her.
“Just open it.”
Leah rustled the bag and pulled out a shrink-wrapped blue box. She groaned. Loudly. “Not this crap again.”
“Leah, I’m telling you, get up, go into that bathroom, and don’t come out until you’ve peed on one of those sticks!”
Too sick and too tired to argue, Leah hauled herself up and trekked to the bathroom with the bag. It all seemed ridiculous and entirely too surreal. When she was finished, she laid the plastic oracle on the sink’s counter and slipped out of the bathroom, where she was beginning to feel too claustrophobic, and headed into the living room where breathing seemed easier.
“Well?”
“It takes three minutes!”
Candace threw up her hands. “Well, I don’t know. I’ve never taken one.”
“This is a huge waste of time. And money. I’m not pregnant.”
“How much would you be willing to bet?” asked Candace.
Leah kept her mouth shut. She’d gambled once before and now she was waiting for the wheel to stop turning. She and Candace stood in silence, running out the clock.
Candace checked her watch and then glanced at Leah. “Do you want to look?”
“No!”
“Do you want me to look?”
“ No! ”
Candace smirked at her. “Do you want to call Shirley next door and have her look?”
Leah cast her a dirty look.
“You kids,” Candace said in a gravelly voice, fingers to her lips pretending to smoke a Marlboro, “with your phones. It’s a wonder you can get pregnant what with all that texting.”
Leah snorted. “Do not call Shirley. And she shouldn’t smoke around the baby anyway.”
“So you do think you’re pregnant!”
Leah flopped onto the couch and inspected the waistband of her jeans once again. She had no idea what being pregnant felt like. But she had missed her period and any other reason—the only other possibility—was not one she was going to let herself think about just yet. She couldn’t go down that road again. If that was the case, well…she knew what she had to do.
“Are you sure it’s been three minutes?” she asked Candace. It seemed like a ridiculous question but time was moving strangely ever since she’d exited the bathroom. For all she knew, she could’ve been sitting here for 3 seconds or 3 years. Swirling thoughts and questions were pounding in her head. Could she afford a baby? How was she going to tell her parents? What would the baby’s last name be?
Would the baby survive?
That last one had her stomach twisting in knots so she shook her head fervently, willing the thought away.
“It’s done, Leah,” Candace said quietly, exchanging her Shirley face for a measured, concerned look. “All you have to do is look. You can’t change it either way. It’s just knowing or not knowing at this point.”
Leah had spent a lifetime on the razor’s edge of knowing and not knowing, waiting for test results to confirm her worst fears or give her a stay of execution. She was grimly surprised to find she wasn’t more used to it by now. But then again this was entirely new territory. She wiped her hands on her jeans and stood up on shaky legs, echoing the whiskey walk that had gotten her here in the first damn place and stepped into the bathroom.
Pregnant, not pregnant, that’s all she had to read in the little window.
Pregnant, her life was about to change.
Not pregnant, her life would go back to being the same daily grind of work and bills.
Pregnant, not pregnant.
Three long minutes.
Two possible outcomes.
One incredible night.
Leah took a deep breath, held it for a long moment then let it out slowly. Then she picked up the stick off the counter.
“What does it
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