by Nicola Haken
“Rachel?”
If you ever catch me trying to buy this mega whitening toothpaste again, slap me. It burns the fuck out of my tongue.
“Rachel?” Holly demanded, tapping my shoulder.
“WHAT?” I snapped with a mouth full of foam.
“You know what! Do you think you could be pre-”
“No! Of course not.” For Christ’s sake, what a ridiculous idea. Jared and I always use condoms. Well… except when occasionally he puts it in and whips it out before the main event. And I just got my period last… well, a few… no wait it might have been…
Holy fuck.
“Rach?”
“I can’t be pregnant. His sister is pregnant. She’s fourteen weeks pregnant and still hasn’t told their parents. So I can’t be pregnant too. That’s just too much pregnant to be real. Pregnant? Me? Nah… no way. I’m not being pregnant. I refuse.”
“I think you need to calm down a little.”
“I’ll calm down when I…” I didn’t get the chance to finish, but it seems the rest of that statement should’ve been ‘I’ll calm down when I’ve spewed a few more organs up’.
“You want me to go and get you a test.”
No.
Yes.
No.
Fuck.
“I’ll pick one up on my way home from work.”
“Maybe you should call in sick. It’s not exactly a lie,” Holly suggested, nodding towards the toilet bowl that had my face buried in it a few seconds ago.
“I can’t. They know it’s my birthday and are already letting me go after lunch. If I don’t show up, they’ll think I’m taking the piss.”
“Well at least let me take you to work and pick you up. It’s quicker than waiting around for a taxi.”
“Thanks,” I agreed. That’d be great.”
“Are you going to call Jared? Maybe he should be here when you do it.”
“No,” I said determinedly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It might be a false alarm. I want to know what, if anything, I’m dealing with first. But you’ll stay with me, right?” Since when did I become so needy? Oh yeah, about three months ago when I started seeing Jared and may well have stupidly got myself up the snuff. For weeks now my mood has been slipping up and down more often than a whore’s knickers, and I’ve been blaming that, along with the insecurity and psycho jealous bitch girlfriend moments on the unfamiliarity of being in a relationship - but now it was looking like it could have all been down to…
No.
I refused to go there. Yet. As it stood it could all be a big fuss about nothing.
Oh hell… what the fuck am I going to do?
**********
For the first time since I started at Smithyll’s nearly eight weeks ago, I was grateful to be the smiling teapot holder. It requires no thought you see – no conversation and no actual skill. With a stomach threatening to spill if I dared move too fast and a brain that would explode if it had to coordinate anything more complex than a smile, sitting pretty and holding up a cracked turn of the century vase was probably the perfect role for me today.
As promised, my boss George let me go at lunchtime after wishing me a happy birthday. George is hilarious. I swear he makes David Dickinson look macho – the guy is camper than Christmas on acid.
I checked my phone when I went to fetch my coat from the break room and I had four text messages. Scrolling through them I noticed the latest was from Holly telling me she was waiting outside, and the rest were ‘what he planned to do to me tonight texts’ from Jared. I replied sounding as upbeat as I could manage and then found myself checking through my texts one last time in case I’d missed any.
But no. There was nothing from Emily. Just like there hadn’t been for weeks now. Hey, did I forget to tell you she’s back in England? Well she is. Though she hasn’t had the decency to tell me that herself. I got a phone call from her brother Chris last week saying she’s left Dexter behind to deal with his family troubles and she seems to be in a bad place and can’t face coming back to London just yet.
Well guess what, Em? I’m in a bad fucking place too.
Dammit. I’m being unfair and I know it. I can’t even begin to compare my problems with hers. She doesn’t ‘do’ new places and people yet she travelled half way across the world to support Dexter only to find out he shot his mum when he was practically a kid, then have his mum die right in front of her and then have his twisted arsehole of a father show up and start threatening them all. I wonder if I’ll ever know how that turned out…
Jeremy Kyle would come in his pants if he got his hands on their story.
Truth is, I’m really pissed off with her for not needing me. She’s always needed me and I’ve always needed her. And now… nothing. She must have been through hell and yet I’m the last person she wants to talk to. And yet she’s the only person I want to talk to right now and it’s like she’s disappeared off the face of the fucking earth.
But I’m also worried and more than a little curious. Emily adores Dexter. I saw such a change in her when she met him. Her confidence grew, she was more sure of herself, and she did that pathetic thing us girls do when we’re into someone – she sighed every time she heard his damn name. She put aside all the qualms and insecurities that make her her to follow him – to stand by him. I just don’t believe she would leave him unless he’d really hurt her. And if it were for any other reason, she would’ve come home. She would’ve told me. She wouldn’t be hiding out in Manchester just minutes away from the parents she couldn’t wait to get away from this time last year.
I’m telling you though, whatever’s going on between me and Em right now… if that fucker’s hurt my girl I will rip his dick off with my bare hands before pickling it and giving it pride of place on my mantelpiece.
“I picked this up for you,” Holly announced once I was settled in the front seat of her red Fiat Punto. She thrust a white paper bag in front of my face and when I took it off her, I didn’t need to look inside to know what it was.
“I don’t want to do it,” I said, shaking my head like it would make everything disappear. “This box has the potential to change my whole life. I’m fucking terrified, Hol.”
“I know you are,” she tried to console. What else could she say? “Come on,” she added, twisting the key in the ignition. “The faster we get to your place, the quicker we’ll know for sure.”
And ‘knowing’ was a good idea… why?
“Fuck I need a smoke. Wait – I can’t sm… well maybe I can. But what if…” ARGGGGGGH!
“Let’s just find out first,” Holly said in a soothing voice. “Besides, you shouldn’t smoke anyway. It’s bad for your complexion.”
Crinkling the top of the bag closed between my fingers, I nodded reluctantly.
“Okay.”
**********
“Have you done it yet?”
“No.”
So, there I was, sitting on the toilet with my pants down and my knees apart, staring at a white stick in my hand that I couldn’t summon the courage to piss on.
“Do you need me to get you some water? Might help you need to go,” Holly called through the door.
“I do need to go. I’m holding it in.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to do it!” I snapped.
“Right, I’m giving you one minute to pee on that stick before I barge in there and tickle your belly till it comes out against your will.”
It’s times like these I can’t help thinking how awesome it would be to have working legs – so I could kick people. Hard.
“Thirty seconds gone. Don’t think I won’t do it!”
“FINE! I’ll do it now!”
Here goes nothing…
Or a very big fucking something…
I took the little blue cap off the white stick as stated in the instructions that I read through a million and four times. You know, they even have a little diagram showing you ‘where to aim it’ in c
ase you’re a moron who doesn’t know where your wee comes from. And then I did it. Not much to describe. Shove hand between legs, start weeing, hope you hit the absorbent tip and then whip it out after five seconds.
Again, as per the leaflet stuffed inside the box, I put the cap back on, laid it flat on the edge of the sink and noted the time on my watch. I had three minutes to kill, so I did the essentials – wiped my drips (TMI? Sorry), hitched myself up on the rail by the toilet so I could pull my pants up, lifted myself back in my chair and washed my hands – thoroughly in case I ‘missed’ while I was aiming.
Looking at my watch again, I noticed only a minute had passed. Still, impatient to get it over with I picked the stick back up and planned to stare at it until I had my answer. Maybe if I gave it the evil eye, the second line would be too scared to show up…
I’d read through that instruction leaflet over and over until my eyes wanted to bleed. Three minutes it said. Three. So why the fuck when I picked it up after ninety seconds was my result ready and waiting to smack me in the face? I wasn’t ready for Christ’s sake! Three minutes. It said I had three fucking minutes to prepare myself!
“Can I come in?” I can’t even remember if I answered Holly, but nevertheless she came in anyway. “Well?” she asked nervously, keeping her distance as if I were a live grenade about to detonate. I looked up at her, took a deep breath and handed her the stick – not even considering the fact I’d just pissed on it.
“Let’s just say life is about to get a hell of a lot more interesting.”
Chapter Twelve
Jared
I ran into Ben earlier today. As suspected, now he was sober he was utterly ashamed of the things he’d said about Rachel. We go back a long way, so I accepted his apology. Turns out I didn’t break his nose, just made it swell to three times the size of his face apparently. I didn’t say it, but I’m pretty sure he knows if he ever spouts degrading shit like that again I will make damn sure I do it right next time.
Gotta feel sorry for the guy. In a few months time the poor sod will have four kids. Four! Jesus, I don’t think I’d be able to handle just one of the little buggers. I still don’t know how Jess is going to cope. I’ve told her I will be there for her in any way I can so I suppose that’ll be good practice in case Rachel ever decides she wants one. Christ, I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for that conversation.
I was really nervous this morning. When I woke up I felt really lightheaded and in the past that has been a warning that one of my ‘episodes’ were coming on. I don’t like the words fit, or seizure… sounds so damn dramatic. Plus, I’m not even sure if that’s what they’re called. I ended up in hospital after having one eight years ago and I never went back for my follow-up appointment. I’ve done some research on Google though and apparently some people grow out of them. I’m going to be one of those people. I have to be. I won’t hand my life over to a goddamn illness. I refuse to let it control what I can and can’t do and I’ll never allow it to make me a weak target again.
Thankfully by the time noon rolled around I felt fine. Good job, because I was taking Rachel out for our first ‘real’ date to celebrate her twentieth birthday. I figured we started out as drinking buddies, and kind of stopped there. So I’m taking her to the cinema. That’s a ‘date thing’ to do right?
So, that’s where I was heading. Rachel had called to say she was home from work and I immediately picked up my keys, and got in my car. I stopped at Blooming Lovely – the florist that sends my daily order of petals to Rachel – to pick up the bouquet I’d ordered a few days ago. I came out with a bunch so big it took up the whole passenger seat. I had it filled with about ten different varieties of flowers (don’t ask me the names – I can do roses and lilies and not much else), all in pinks, reds and purples because they remind me of the colours etched into Rachel’s skin.
I approached Rachel’s door a little nervously. She seemed edgy on the phone which usually meant I’d done something to piss her off. Still, I was sure a good fucking was all she needed. I’m pretty certain I can shag my way out of anything with her.
“Happy birthdaaaaaaaay!” I called into the empty living room after letting myself in.
“Be out in one minute!” I heard Rachel call back.
“Hey! I bumped into Ben earlier. He apologised for being such a fucking idiot.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t not accept it when I saw the state of him. Jesus, I’m telling you - having kids ruins fucking lives. I don’t think Jess knows what the hell she’s letting herself in for.” I shook my head at myself just imagining the life my baby sister had coming to her. Fuck that for a month of Sunday’s.
So, when Rachel said ‘one’ minute, she was clearly talking in female minutes, because fifteen minutes later she emerged from the bathroom.
“Delivery for the birthday girl,” I said, walking towards her with my face covered by the flowers. Alright fuck it, I admit it – I sang. “What’s wrong?” I immediately added when I lowered the flowers and saw her swollen and red eyes.
“They’re beautiful,” she whimpered, her bottom lip wobbling as she nodded towards the flowers in my hand. I discarded them on the chair behind me and kneeled down in front of her, cupping the side of her face in my hand and brushing a lone tear away with my thumb.
“Rach?” I pressed cautiously.
“I’m… fine,” she squeaked. “Just miss Emily that’s all.”
“Oh, Rach…” I consoled, pulling her in for a hug. I knew it. I knew it had been bothering her. She’s not been herself for weeks but of course she’s too damn stubborn to admit it. “You know she’s probably feeling exactly the same,” I talked into her hair as she nuzzled my shoulder. “Just call her.”
“I’ve tried. I’ve text her so many times and I barely get any replies back. I know she’s been through shit and stuff, but we’re like sisters. At least I thought we were.”
“You are like sisters,” I said firmly, pulling back so I could look her in the eye.
“Then why doesn’t she want me to know she’s back in England? I just feel… I don’t know, hurt I guess. And I know she’s probably hurting too which just makes me hurt even more but… I’m mad with her. I can’t help it. You know she’s not even remembered my birthday?”
“I’m sorry, Rach.” What else could I say? I just don’t get it. Em and Rachel were inseparable. What the fuck went on over in the States? “You want to stay home tonight? We could just pop a DVD in and cuddle or something.”
“No,” she disagreed. “It might be just what I need to drag me out of this miserable mood,” she added with a fake smile. I silently made it my mission to turn it into a real one before the night was out. “So, cinema?”
“Sure. The Hunger Games is still out if you fancy that?”
“Definitely. I’ve been meaning to read the books forever. Right, let me get some pint glasses for those flowers, and we’ll get going.”
“Pint glasses?”
“Do I look like the kind of girl who has vases, Jaz? Seriously?”
“Valid point,” I agreed, chuckling. Then, I followed her into the kitchen with the flowers and stood by while she arranged six pint glasses in a row on the counter. I tried to help her put the flowers in but she batted my hand away with a frustrated huff. How the fuck was I supposed to know you’re meant to snip off the end of the stem to keep them alive longer? And not just any old snip – a diagonal snip.
“There,” Rachel said proudly, wheeling herself back a little to get a good view of her handiwork. “They really are beautiful. I love them. Thank you.” She looked up at me with a warm smile but we still weren’t quite there with the genuine.
“Not as beautiful as you,” I said, bending down to kiss the tip of her nose. I know, I know… pussy-whipped through and through. But hell, I give Rachel and her perfect pussy permission to whip me whenever they bloody well want. “Ready?”
“I’ll just grab my bag.”
“I might
just let you grab something else later if you’re a good girl,” I teased seductively in her ear. I got a small smile in return. No sexy groan, no horny comment, no kiss or squirming in her chair – a smile, and a small one at that. I could see in that moment I was going to have to work incredibly hard to cheer her up tonight. Good job I’m a guy who loves a challenge – which is how I got her in the first place.
**********
Well, I got my genuine smile - even won a squeal and a giggle too. After booking our tickets at the cinema and loading up Rachel’s lap with popcorn, drinks and two hotdogs that require a loan to afford, we were directed to our seats. That’s when I got my smile…
“Well this is no good,” I complained to Rachel. “I can’t feel you up sat all the way down here.”
“Well, if you choose to date a cripple you’ve gotta pay the consequences,” she teased. The spotty sixteen year old who brought us in here sat us at the front where there is a cut-out in the seating arrangement for wheelchairs. “But it’s a good job I can’t feel my legs because I don’t think I could cope with that as well as the pain in my neck I’m gonna get from straining to see the damn screen.”
“Right,” I said, jumping up from my seat. “Put your arms around my neck.”
“What for?” she asked, confused.
“We’re going to the back row to make out,” I explained with a suggestive wink.
“Jared, I’m not supposed to sit up-” Tucking one arm behind her back and one under her knees, I had her scooped in my arms before she could finish protesting. “Jared!” she squealed when I began running up the steps to the back of the theatre. “You’re going to get us thrown out!” she warned, the words getting lost in her adorable laughter. A few people stopped chatting and turned their gazes to us, making Rachel chuckle harder and bury her embarrassed face into my shoulder.
“Nah. We’d just have to play the disabled card. No one’s going to kick out a girl in a wheelchair. It breaks too many PC laws.” Shaking her head and giggling at me, she craned her neck and kissed my cheek. The heat from her soft lips alone was enough to make my cock stir and at that point I wasn’t sure if I would be able to stop at the ‘making out’ checkpoint.
