Jay Walking (Pastime Pursuits)

by Tracy Krimmer

  Amber tosses the rag onto the table and grabs my shoulders. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Does something hurt?"

  Only my heart, which is now sinking into oblivion with the prospect of having another child with Daniel. I'm sobbing, trying to turn my face so James doesn't see his mother in tears. "I ... I've ..."

  "What, Chelsea? You're scaring me!"

  "I missed my period. I think I might be pregnant." I fan my face and I'm beginning to sweat like I'm running the 5K again. We used a condom. We used a condom! I keep shouting it in my head, but I'm well aware they aren't one hundred percent effective.

  "Calm down. I need you to relax. I'll stay here while you go to the store and get yourself a pregnancy test."

  "I don't want to." I don't want to know. The possibility of the truth suffocates me. I can't raise two kids my own.

  She ducks her head under mine and I sit back up straight, my cheeks wet. "You need to." She hands me a tissue. "If you are pregnant, we'll deal with it. If you're not, then you have nothing to be worried about."

  I'm staring at her, calm and relaxed, and I know at this moment, I could never ask for a better friend. No matter what, she'll be here for me. She'll hold my hand as I tell my parents, and help out with James if needed. "You're right. I'll run to the drug store, and come right back. Can you put James down for a nap?"

  I don't even bother to change, throw on a hoodie, and drive to Walgreens, where my future will be determined.

  •••

  I didn't expect to spend the next thirty minutes at the drug store picking up a pregnancy test. Sure, one day, but not like this. Not with the possibility of being pregnant by Daniel again. In all my days as a young girl, I imagined getting married and having kids of my own. Never in my wildest dreams did my fantasy include two children out of wedlock with an emotionally unavailable man.

  I head to the family planning aisle to get a test. Family planning. What a funny name. Most people who shop this section of the store didn't plan a thing. With all the accidental pregnancies, they should call it the "Whoops" aisle. A big sign should hang down in front of the condoms. "Not fool proof. Just say no." I'm not on any other kind of birth control. My busy life as a single mom is plenty, and it's free.

  I can't believe the number of pregnancy tests stacked on the shelves. They all taunt me, laughing at me for my stupidity, cursing me for being an idiot. Individual packages, groups of two, or even five. Do I need that many? I'm only about six days late. Will I need more than one to verify? If another week passes, and still no period, I'll need to get another test. Which brand is best? Some claim they can tell seventy-two hours before the missed period. Another says five days. Aren't they all equal? Pee on a stick and be done with it, right? How many different brands does the world need? I'll go with the cheapest. But what if I get a false positive? Or even worse, a false negative? I'd go on about life not knowing I'm pregnant and end up being one of those women who shows up at the hospital with cramps and then next thing you know, I'm delivering a baby.

  Speaking of cramps, I'm a tad nauseous and my abdomen is starting to ache. I might get my period yet today. I hope not in the middle of the family planning aisle, although that would be a little ironic, and I'm close to the women's feminine product area. I must pick up eight different boxes before I finally decide on one.

  In an attempt to bury the pregnancy test, I grab some milk, batteries, and a pack of gum. I'm ready to get out of here and take this thing. I turn the corner right next to the photo area to go to the checkout counter, when I catch a glimpse of Jay. Shit! I scoot back to the aisle, the milk cold in my hand as I pretend to be mulling over the potato chips in front of me. I peek around the end cap, and he's coming right for where I am. I shuffle back and forth, and as I turn to go the opposite way, he calls my name.

  I can't escape. I don't want him to see what I'm buying, so I stuff the box under my arm. "Jay. Hi." I squeeze the test, trying to make it as unnoticeable as possible.

  "I changed my shirt." He points to the Guinness T-Shirt he's now wearing.

  "Oh. Um, sorry about that." And I realize I'm in pajamas. With Tweety Bird on them. Score.

  "We keep running into each other. I'm beginning to think this is fate."

  "I'm not so sure I believe in fate as much as the fact this is the closest Walgreens from both of us." He laughs, and my face lights up. "I apologize for getting so upset before."

  "Yeah, what was that about anyway?"

  I'm like a faucet today with my sweat, and I'm sure the test will slip right from underneath my armpit and drop between my feet. "I thought you didn't believe in me."

  His face drops, and I obviously hurt him with my words. "I've always believed in you. I thought you realized that."

  Our eyes linger, and in this moment I want nothing more than to kiss him. "I'm so sorry I reacted like I did. I'm not used to ... to someone being real with me and caring about me."

  "Plenty of people care about you. Your parents, your friends, your son. And maybe your ex in some weird kind of way."

  Daniel. The elephant in the room. "About that."

  "Nope. Don't do it. Let's not get into this. I was foolish to think there wasn't any drama. I can't think of one person I know with kids and an ex who doesn't have some sort of problem."

  I clench my armpit tight trying to hold the test in place. "You're right."

  "I mostly am."

  Jay is so funny. I miss this. I want him. I do need him, but not in the way I chastised him for before. I'm complete with him. Now's the time for honesty. "Jay, James is my everything. And until you, Daniel's been the one man in my life, and he only recently came back trying to see James." I adjust my eyes to my feet. "Well, he came back for a while, and he's left again."

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "No, no. It's for the best. I mean, he plans on getting some sort of custody, but he and I don't need to be together. We're not right for each other."

  He steps closer to me, and I press the pregnancy test tighter. "I know who's right for you."

  I swallow. "You do?"

  "Let's try this again, Chelsea. I'm sorry if any comments I've made hurt you. My last romantic relationship - and business one - were riddled with lies. I freaked out when I first found out about your son, and I get why you were afraid to tell me about his dad. I'm ready to move forward. With you."

  The milk is heavy in my hand, and I need to switch arms. I make the transfer, and, as I do, the test falls right to the ground. Jay looks at it, then at me, and I'm in disbelief at how much I royally screwed up. Again.

  chapter thirty-five

  "Amber, you should've seen his face. I can only describe it as devastation. Meanwhile, my entire body filled with humiliation. I almost fainted." I recount the events to her before I rip open the box.

  James is in bed, taking a nap, and I want nothing more than to join him. Jay didn't freak out, like I expected, and I really needed to explain. I came clean, though, vowing not to start our on-again romance with a lie.

  "Did he run off in the other direction?" She's crunching on chips, enjoying my tale of embarrassment.

  "Thank God, no. After I explained myself, he said I should take the test and text him the results. He wants to get back together, but if I'm ... you know ... it's an obstacle he's not sure he's ready for. I understand."

  She pulls her legs up onto the couch and gets comfortable. "Damn, girl, he's a good guy. I think most would have left you in a cloud of dust."

  "Yeah. But he's not necessarily sticking around, either."

  Amber taps the pregnancy test. "Stop wasting time. Go find out."

  I take the box and work slowly to the bathroom. My fears subsided over the past hour, and in only a moment, they all return. The room has never seemed so cold and uninviting before. After I shut the door, I sit on the edge of the bathtub and take a deep breath. I can do this. Take out the stick, pee, wait three minutes, and find out if my life is about to take a crazy turn.

  I pull a single
test out - I ended up buying a three pack - and tear open the packaging. I glance through the directions like I always do. Yes, it's as easy as peeing on the stick for five seconds, but I want to make sure I'm not missing a step.

  I can't delay this any further. I uncap it, head to the toilet, and do as the instructions state. Once the cap is back on, I set it on the counter, and sit back on the tub edge. And wait.

  These three minutes are the longest I've ever encountered, even longer than when I took my pregnancy test with James. I grip the side of the porcelain, and after thirty excruciating seconds I begin to drum my fingers against the cold finish. My feet are tapping on the floor, my heart is beating faster than ever before in my life, and I can't even swallow. I'm running through all the possibilities in my head. How do I tell my parents? How do I tell Daniel? Will I ever be able to buy my own house now that I'll be supporting two children? This is only a two bedroom place, so if I can't afford a house how will I arrange the kids bedrooms? Will my scrapbooking business be worthless because I won't have any time to work on anything now that all my time will be spent caring for the baby and a toddler?

  I check my phone and three minutes is almost up. I want to peek, but if I see a negative before I'm supposed to look, it doesn't mean that in twenty seconds it won't be positive. My hands move between my knees and I'm rocking back and forth. I need this to be over. For as much as I didn't want to know before, now I yearn for an answer. I'll figure out the answers to all my questions later. The one thing I am sure of is that if this test confirms my fear, I'll love this child as much as I love James. That won't change.

  The time passes and I stop rocking. The silence in the room is almost shattering. I cover my face with my hands and slide them down, knowing the moment of truth is here. I release a deep breath before picking myself up and stepping over to the counter. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and exhale again. Upon opening my eyes I see the words: Not Pregnant. Relief filters through my body, and I vow the next time I take one of these tests, it will be because I'm ready. And with someone I love.

  "Negative!" The door slams against the wall as I sprint out of the bathroom to Amber. "It's negative."

  She jumps off the couch and embraces me. When she releases me, I snatch up my phone and do the one thing I can't wait to do. I text Jay.

  •••

  In true Chelsea Wyatt fashion, life hates me, and Jay ended up having to work the entire rest of the weekend so we didn't get to spend any time together. He texted me back he was glad I took the test and relieved at the negative result. I'm disappointed, though, because I don't know when I'll see him next. Are we officially a couple again? Does this mean he's my boyfriend now? He asked for an evening out this weekend (to talk? For romance?), but a few months ago I signed up for a Scrap-A-Thon, and my hotel reservation is non-refundable. My parents will take James while I'm gone, and I plan on making a lot of pages for my business. Jay says we can get together after I get back, but, an hour into my arrival, I'm already doubtful. Maybe things between us just aren't meant to be.

  The hour and a half drive to Fond du Lac causes me to almost lose my voice. I never sing in the car, and the entire way I belt out songs from Kelly Clarkson, Gwen Stefani, and Pink. This passes the time, though, and I don't think about Jay as much as I expected to.

  My hotel room is bigger than I thought from the pictures, with a queen bed, a couch, desk and a large picture window. I don't plan on spending much time in my room, though. The whole weekend I'll either be in the conference room scrapbooking, or soaking in the hot tub. Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly text my mom I arrived, grab my rolling cart of supplies, and head down to the event room.

  A fair amount of people are already all set up in their own little areas. I don't know a soul here, so I do a quick overview of the room for someone who appears close to my age. I spot a girl with dark, curly hair and head over by her.

  "Hi. My name is Chelsea. Is anyone sitting by you?"

  She's gluing something down and is so focused she doesn't even lift her head up. "Nope. Take a seat."

  I sit down and unzip my bag, pulling out a stack of photos first.

  "I'm Nicole. Nice to meet you." She slaps her hands together to get rid of any glue before offering it to me.

  "You too. Is this your first Scrap-A-Thon?" Next I place some paper to the left of me, my scissors to the right, and plant a glue stick in front of it all.

  She shakes her head. "No. I go to these all the time, actually. This is my fifth this year. You?"

  I'm impressed by her dedication. Even with making kits for other people, I don't think I can commit that much of my time to this. "Only my third one, ever," I say, and Nicole sheds eye contact with me. "I go to small ones where I live a lot. This is only my third big event."

  She reaches into her bag and pulls out a bunch of completed pages. "I finished all these in the past hour."

  I flip through them, both impressed and jealous. Nicole is extremely talented. I wouldn't be surprised if I these graced the pages of scrapbooks, etc., one of my favorite magazines. They're sleek, modern, and detailed. "These are incredible. All this in an hour?"

  "Thanks." She puts them back and switches them out with a binder. "I have a ton of layout ideas and I simply refer to them based on my photo sizes and how many." Running her hands down the side tabs, she says, "I separate designs by size and quantity."

  My mouth drops open, and inadequacy is all I feel. Yes, I may be a great scrapbooker, but I am nowhere near this organized. If I want to run a successful business, I sure can use some pointers from Nicole. I'll be sure to swap ideas with her and probably cell numbers.

  A screen in the front of the room displays different scrapbook pages from people in the room. Before the event, we all submitted some of our favorite pages, and in the corner, they list our name. I'm excited to be in a room with all these people who share the same passion and to see what things they deem scrapbook worthy. There are photos of children, significant others, dogs and cats, even lakes and flowers. Some come across as amateur, and others are so perfect I can't believe I'm here with them. For the next two hours, I create a few of the best kits I think I have ever created, and I can't wait to get them on my website.

  By the time I finish, it's nearing one and I'm ready for a small bite to eat and a soak in the hot tub. Lying back and relaxing should give me a fresh set of ideas when I return to the scrapbooking room.

  •••

  I return to the event refreshed, and, as I predicted, a pocket full of ideas. Nicole's fascinating portfolio proves I can really make some amazing pieces if I let go of my fears and forge ahead with my designs. I'm used to creating pages for babies, weddings, and birthdays, but I never think outside of the box. People with first homes may enjoy something related to remodeling; others who love movies may revel in a scrapbook containing their favorites; and, some people who consume themselves in holidays may want more than Christmas scrapbooks. What about the Fourth of July, Valentine's Day, and Easter?

  Nicole and I acknowledge each other, but she's already deeply involved in her project, and I'm antsy to get moving on mine. The display screen showed two or three of my pages, and I take a moment to view a few others that come up. With no more time to waste, I get to work.

  Twenty minutes easily pass before Nicole is nudging me. "Hey, Chelsea - isn't that you?"

  I glance up at the screen and see a page with the words "I'll Always Believe In You" and in the center is me crossing the finish line of the 5K. "Yeah. I ran a race last week."

  I put my head back down and start cutting up a piece of paper. I don't remember that picture. Someone must have captured it for me. "Wait!" I say out loud. "I didn't make that page."

  I turn my attention back to the screen and in the corner it says "Layout by Jay Stafford." The brad I'm holding pokes me in the finger, and I drop it on the table. Where did that come from? Why is a picture of Jay's in the slideshow?

  Another layout pops up, again from the
race. Then after that, the photo of me and him at the gym. What the hell? Where is the hidden camera? I furrow my eyebrows as I scan the room. No camera. But, then, as if out of nowhere, Jay glides across the front of the room and stands next to the screen.

  "Chelsea Wyatt?" He asks as he puts his hand to his forehead and reviews the participants in the room. "Chelsea, please stand up."

  He stands in front of at least eighty people, handsome as ever in his jeans and pale blue tee shirt. His dark hair is combed back, and a hint of stubble surrounds his cheeks and chin. My clothes are clinging to my body because I'm so sweaty and nervous, and I wipe my clammy hands on my pants. Taking a hold of the back of my chair, I rise.

  "There you are!" He waves. "Hi."

  Everyone's eyes are on me. Not one person in the room is working on their scrapbooks anymore. I'm back in high school, in speech class, looking like a fool as I hope I don't stumble over my words. I forgot my notecards, though, and I'm afraid of what's coming. "Um. Hi?" I'm so confused. "What are you doing here?"

  "Ladies .... " He scans the room and checks for men. "Ladies, I'm here today to proclaim my commitment to Chelsea Wyatt. She came into my life six months ago, and, while it's been an interesting road, it's one I would repeat in a heartbeat. She's made some mistakes, but so have I."

  I've screwed up plenty of times since we met, and I'll be the first to admit it. God, please don't tell this entire group of people our history. But what mistakes did he make?

  Jay begins to walk toward me, and it's a long way because I'm in the back of the room. My hands keep moving from my sides to crossed in front of me. I want to sit down and bury my head.

  "Chelsea, the day I met you and I walked out of that coffee shop, I hoped I would see you again. Then when you showed up at the hospital thinking you were dying from that bee sting, I thanked God for creating bees."

  The crowd lets out a quiet laugh, and I do too, my eyes moist and lips quivering.

  "When I found out about your son, I got scared. And when you reassured me it would all be okay, I believed you because I wanted nothing more than to be with you. That day your mom raced in and showed you those papers, my heart stopped. I didn't want to be in the middle of all this drama. Still, I knew that I also wanted to help you. I couldn't though. So I walked away."