“I even ate my bread,” I said proudly, and we both giggled a little.
“You’re lucky you don’t have a sore throat or a cough. The last time I had the flu, I could barely speak. At least you can talk on the phone while you play hooky.”
“Yeah, the only thing that would keep me from talking is my gag reflex, but now that I’ve got that under control, we can talk all day!” I proclaimed excitedly as I settled into bed, grabbing the remote to begin channel surfing.
“Do you have a stuffy nose or anything? You sound relatively good for someone with the flu,” she asked as she clicked away on her computer.
“No, just nausea really,” I said absentmindedly while flicking through channels. I could hear the noise abruptly die down on Mariah’s end of the phone, I figured she was done with her work.
“Emily, tell me all of your symptoms,” she said conspiratorially.
“You know, just the typical flu stuff. The first day I had a fever, but since then its just nausea, fatigue, soreness – my boobs are like untouchable,” I paused when I heard Mariah gasp before adding, “I know – it sucks.”
“No, Emily, that’s not why I’m a bit taken aback,” she explained.
“What are you doing? Plugging my symptoms into WebMD so you can tell me I’m dying?” I teased while settling on an episode of Snapped, one of my favorite television shows.
“I don’t need WebMD to tell me what’s already very clear. I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t want you to freak out,” she warned.
“Shoot!” I encouraged, half listening to her unnecessarily worrying and half listening to the television show. Mariah always took it upon herself to act like my mother and her overreacting was nothing new. Once in college, she’d convinced me that my menstrual cramps were actually the first stage of my appendix exploding. We’d spent an entire afternoon in the ER only for me to get two Midol and an annoyed look from the doctor.
“Have you taken a pregnancy test?” She asked, and surprisingly my heart didn’t jump out of my chest. I knew how outlandish the possibility was, so even though I’d finally had sex, I wasn’t the least bit worried.
“Oh, yeah. I take one every Tuesday. I never told you that? Yeah, I just like to take them regularly; they make peeing so much more exciting. No, I haven’t taken a pregnancy test, crazy! And don’t go all conspiracy theory on me, there’s no way I’m pregnant.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see me.
“I’m serious, Emily! I don’t mean to freak you out, and I really don’t want you to panic, but all signs are pointing towards pregnancy, baby girl,” she murmured as if she was breaking bad news.
“Like my appendix exploding?” I quipped.
“I don’t know how many times I have to explain that. It’s not my fault you can’t adequately describe your symptoms!” She yelled, and we both erupted into laughter remembering that scary yet hilarious day.
“I told you he used a condom,” I reasoned, referencing my night with the mystery man. It had been six weeks since I’d seen him, and although I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of him, he definitely didn’t live in my thoughts as he had the first few weeks after our night together.
“Honey, when I discussed the birds and the bees with you, did I happen to mention that those don’t always work?” She sarcastically asked.
“I had my period three weeks ago,” I said, a bit annoyed. I could barely keep up with the show, and it was obviously a good episode. The wife had murdered her husband for a life insurance policy, and I just knew a secret lover was bound to make an appearance.
“Hmm…” Mariah said before exhaling deeply into the phone. Realizing her defeat, I hoped she would just drop it. We sat on the phone silently for an awkward pause, as I continued watching my show before Mariah spoke again.
“If I bring some tests by after work, will you take them?” She asked seriously.
“Oh my God, Mariah! You’re nuts, but yes. If it makes you feel better, I will take a damn pregnancy test, but you have to take one with me.” I said, determined to at least have a little fun with her.
“Deal!” She said before laughing.
Excited about our plans, she rushed off the phone, so she could finish her work for the day and get to my place. We said our goodbyes as my show took a turn. Not only did the wife have a lover, but he was also allegedly her husband’s murderer.
“I knew it!” I mumbled to myself.
I didn’t notice I’d fallen asleep until my doorbell ringing woke me up. Rushing towards the door, I wondered what time it was, as I doubted Mariah could’ve been done with her work so soon. I was shocked to see her beautiful face as I peeked through the peephole before opening the door.
“How’d you get done so fast?” I asked shocked.
“I’m going to assume from that messy bun that you’ve been asleep, but it’s been four hours, silly. I’ve heard babies suck all of the energy out of you,” she teased while lifting up a plastic bag, which contained two pink boxes.
“How many did you get?” I asked while giggling, amused by her eagerness.
“Six!” She proudly stated while marching towards my bedroom. I followed behind her while shaking my head, ready to prove how crazy she was being.
Mariah and I were completely comfortable in each other’s homes. We’d actually lived together in college, so I wasn’t shocked at all when she kicked her high heels off before walking into my closet and retrieving a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. Switching out of her pencil skirt and chiffon blouse, she pulled her dark brown hair over her shoulder before quickly twisting her long waves into a braid.
“Have you thought about what you’ll do if you are?” She asked, avoiding saying the actual ‘p-word.'
“No,” I admitted, and it was the truth. While I might have freaked out if I gave it any thought, I had fallen asleep right after talking to Mariah, which didn’t leave me much time to over analyze her nonsense.
“I’ve got, to be honest, I’m really impressed by your cool demeanor. I really thought you’d be freaking out over this, but you’re holding it together pretty nicely,” she smirked as she finished switching into my clothes.
“Mariah, I’m humoring you, but I don’t even know why you wasted your money on all these tests. There’s no way I can be pregnant.” I snatched a box from the bag and walked toward my en suite, which was connected to my closet.
Ripping the box open, I quickly skimmed the directions before picking up two of the sticks and handing one to Mariah, who had followed me into the bathroom.
“Let’s just pretend then. What if you are?” She asked as she took the test from my hand.
I rolled my eyes while settling onto the toilet. Holding the pregnancy test between my legs, I looked toward the ceiling, trying to will myself to pee. Noticing my struggle, Mariah laughed, and I joined her, recognizing just how silly this was. On cue, I began peeing, as I leaned forward to ensure I was wetting the test.
Mariah moved to give me another one, and I shook my head, not wanting to waste any more money. Once I finished, I stood and motioned to Mariah, indicating that it was now her turn, as I put the top on my test and set it next to the sink before washing my hands.
“I’m serious, Emily. I think we should think about this now before you know the results. My mom said that the first time she took a pregnancy test, she was really scared. When it was negative she was disappointed, and that’s how she knew she was ready to have a baby,” she shared as she placed the top on her test and set it on the counter before moving towards the sink to wash her hands.
“Well, let me be clear. There is no part of me hoping that test is positive. I am one hundred percent sure that I do not want to be a mother right now, especially a single mother, and let’s face it, I have no other option at this point.” I tilted my head and smirked as Mariah moved to dry her hands.
It had all been silly to me up until that point, but now that the
test was done and we were awaiting the results, anxiety began to set in. The tension in the bathroom was palpable as both of us had run out of small talk and filler conversation. There was nothing left to do but figure out the results.
I inched towards the counter slowly, lifting the test with one hand and the directions in the other. One pink line meant I wasn’t pregnant, while two lines meant I was having a baby. My heart was beating so fast as the pit in my stomach built, fear setting in. I couldn’t imagine my virginity story getting any worse than the one night stand, without ever knowing his name, but this would most definitely take the cake.
Just as I began to fear how awful I would feel being pregnant and not knowing the father, I focused on the test, and there it was. In a way I was shocked, Mariah had been right about the symptoms, I knew that. Vomiting, nausea, fatigue, they were all signs of pregnancy, but I was in a bit of denial. The result showed that I wasn’t crazy, and I felt butterflies in my stomach as relief rushed over me with only one pink line showing up on the pregnancy test.
“See!” I yelled to Mariah, who snatched the test from my hand, a bit shocked. She really did think I was pregnant, and I could shockingly see a little disappointment on her face now that I’d proved I wasn’t.
“This just doesn’t make sense,” she whispered under her breath. “Emily, I really had a strong feeling, and I’m never wrong about this type of stuff,” she shook her head.
“Well, we’ll just add this to your exploding appendix story and let it go. No more Grey’s Anatomy for you,” I teased, referencing her favorite television show that made her feel like a doctor at all times.
We laughed before heading into my bedroom and relaxing on my bed. We talked all about how scary it would’ve been for me to be pregnant, though unlikely. Mariah apologized for getting me all worked up, and we decided to order more takeout and watch a movie.
Once our diner takeout arrived, we decided to eat in bed while watching The Italian Job. We both had a crush on Mark Wahlberg, so it was one of our favorites. Just as the movie ended, Mariah began gathering our mess to take downstairs to the kitchen trash.
I was running my hand across the duvet, trying to rid the bed of any extra crumbs from our feast when I saw Mariah standing in the doorway of my closet. She looked frozen and blank.
“What’s wrong?” I warily asked.
“Emily, where did you put your test?” She asked, her voice shaking.
“I threw it out, Mariah. I don’t need to scrapbook it,” I giggled before continuing to wipe crumbs from my bed.
“No, Emily.” She said sternly, demanding my attention. I turned to her and noticed for the first time that she was holding a pregnancy test in her hand.
“You got it out of the trash?” I asked confused.
“That wasn’t your test we saw. It was mine.” She explained. When I frowned and shook my head she continued, “I just went to wash my hands and forgot about the second test. This was right by the sink. It’s yours, Emily,” she paused, but I knew what she was holding back. “And it’s positive,” she spoke barely above a whisper.
“No, mine was right on the counter, we both saw it. That has to be yours,” I closed my eyes, trying to remember where I’d placed my test.
“You have to do it again,” she calmly instructed.
We piled into the bathroom once again, and this time Mariah handed me three tests as I peed, alternating each test to have a definitive answer. My hand shook as I lifted the final test from between my legs before gently placing it on the counter.
After I finished, I just sunk to the floor, pulling my knees into my chest as I watched Mariah look over the tests, awaiting the results.
When she looked over towards me, her eyes filled with tears and pity, I knew she had been right all along. She didn’t even need to say it. Instead, she just came and sat next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder as I leaned my head against the wall. A single tear rolled down my face as I realized the impossible had happened.
“Maybe I should go to the doctor, I’ve heard the at-home tests can be faulty sometimes,” I lied. I’d never heard that before, but I wasn’t ready to fully accept that I was carrying the baby of a man whose name I didn’t even know.
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. You never know with these things,” Mariah said while pulling me into her side. I knew her well enough to know that she too was lying, but we just let each other slide. It was the best thing we could do at the moment.
We sat there in silence as the heaviness of the situation washed over us. Gone were the laughs and lighthearted conversation. The air felt thick and heavy as we slowly rocked back and forth. I felt like everything was moving in slow motion around me as another tear slid down my cheek.
Chapter Five
EMILY
Denial was swirling around with guilt and anxiety as I rode in the backseat of the taxi. After admitting how jumbled my thoughts were, I decided it would be too much of a distraction for me to drive. I’d spent the entire night going over every mistake I’d already made in my pregnancy, starting with not knowing the father of my child.
I’d also recalled four instances when I’d consumed alcohol, but at least there were no shitfaced drunk experiences. Although I hadn’t done any competitive tournaments in years, I knew I had done a lot of tumbling, and made a mental note to ask the doctor if that was acceptable.
None of my friends had ever had children, so I didn’t know much about pregnancy, but from television and movies, I knew I should be taking prenatal vitamins. I wondered how much of a disadvantage I’d already given the baby with all of my mistakes.
Leaning back, I tried my best to relax my mind as I rode in silence to the doctor’s office. After accepting that the flu was definitely not my ailment, I scheduled an appointment with my OBGYN. Nerves rushed over me as the driver approached the doctor’s office. Although I already knew it in my heart, the results were about to get very concrete.
“You were right. You’re definitely pregnant,” Dr. Lindsey Stevens said with a smile as she scooted her stool towards me.
I was sitting on the exam table as she read from her clipboard. I could feel the blood leaving my body, as I forced a deep breath in an attempt to hold nausea at bay.
“Are you okay?” She asked in her motherly concerned tone. Dr. Lindsey had been my doctor since I was in high school. She knew both of my parents, and I’m sure she felt sympathetic knowing I would be going through this without them.
“I don’t know,” I sighed before leaning back on the table, placing my hand over my mouth. I felt a cry crawling up my throat, begging me to just crumble.
It was all too overwhelming. There was now no part of denial left in me; I was pregnant. This was happening, and the reality of it hit me like a ton of bricks.
“You know there are options, Emily. You don’t seem too thrilled about this, but you’re not stuck in a corner.” She sympathized while placing her hand on my knee.
“It’s not really about the pregnancy,” I admitted while sitting up. “It’s just how it all came about. I don’t even know the father,” I placed my hand over my eyes as shame washed over me.
“I didn’t even know you were sexually active. If you have several partners, you can always have a DNA test done before or after the birth,” she assured me.
“No, I know who the father would be. I’ve only had sex with one person, but I don’t have a way to contact him,” I simplified the problem, deciding not to share the ridiculously complex web of unbelievable circumstances I’d found myself in.
“I see,” she paused. “Well I know plenty of women who have gone through pregnancies all alone and gone on to raise healthy babies,” she continued before pushing off from the floor, forcing the wheels on the stool to lead her back to the counter at the edge of the office. After grabbing a pamphlet from a clear plastic holder attached to the wall, she rolled back to the exam table.
“He deserves to know,” my
voice was barely a whisper as I wondered how I could possibly locate my mystery man from 6-weeks ago.
“There are several support groups in the area where you can meet other single mothers. Whatever you choose, you’re not alone in this,” she gently rubbed my knee as she looked deeply into my eyes.
I didn’t realize I was crying until Dr. Lindsey handed me a tissue. Wiping my face, I lowered my head into my hands. I’d stopped hearing her after she mentioned the phrase, ‘single mother,' the words seemed too harsh for me to process. Never in a million years did I imagine I’d be pregnant before I was married, but the realization that my child’s father wouldn’t play a role at all was a bit heartbreaking.
It took me several minutes to regain my composure while Dr. Lindsey continued to inform me of my options. When I finally left her office I had four pamphlets in total – one for single mom support groups, another with a list of do’s and don’ts during pregnancy, an informative brochure about the ‘beauties of adoption,' and lastly a thin yellow pamphlet detailing the procedures involved with an abortion.
I don’t even remember leaving the office or the elevator ride to the lobby. I just remember the ride home, because the sky opened up and cried with me as the city passed by from the taxi window. I cried for myself, and the unknown that was ahead of me. I cried for my unborn child and the disadvantages my irresponsible behavior had already dealt him or her. And I cried for my fairytale future because it was all washed away.
The two words replayed over and over in my mind, ‘single mother,' my new reality.
****
It had been three weeks since the doctor confirmed my baby news, and even though I’d yet to develop a baby bump, it was all very real for me. Gone was the denial, but I still found myself a bit sad by the loneliness of it all.
Southern Riders (Scars Book 1) Page 16
