The Patchwork Heart

Chapter 3

At first, I didn't even notice there was something wrong. I was so devastated from the death of Dex that I couldn't keep anything down and I was nauseous. I missed two periods but I thought it was just from the emotional distress. I was clinically depressed, I hardly left my bed most of the time. My parents were dragging me to a therapist three times a week to deal with the loss. I was so wrapped up in my own pain that I didn't realize what was going on inside my body.

I remember the moment I realized he was in there. I was laying in my bed, staring out the window at the sunbeams coming through. I wanted to feel good again, I could see it was a beautiful day outside and I wanted to feel the sun on my skin. I had become comfortable with the cloud of heartbreak that followed me around. I stood up and shuffled to look out the window. It overlooked our back yard, which had an old play house from when I was a little girl. I recalled the last time I had been in that playhouse; it was with Dex a week before his accident. We had made love inside before he walked me to my back porch door and kissed me goodnight. As I remembered all the feelings from that night, I realized we hadn't used protection that time. I frowned at the playhouse through the window pain and wracked my brain, trying to remember when my last period was. I remembered having one in May but, it was August by this time. I turned and looked around my room, my heart started to pound.

I forced myself to shower and get dressed. I put on a baggy hoodie, sweat pants and a ball cap. I didn't want to run into anyone I knew when I was out, I didn't want to have the same conversation I always had to have when I left the house. I wanted to be invisible, so the stares of pity didn't come my way. It was like being famous for the worst day of your life in our little town, and I hated it.

My dad's old truck started on the fourth try, I backed up and slung gravel out of the drive way. I went to the next town over, a twenty-minute drive, so it was less likely I would run into anyone I knew well. I wanted to just get what I needed and get back home. The pharmacy was deserted, except for the clerk and I. I went to the family planning aisle and bought a two pack of Clear Blue pregnancy tests. I ran up to the counter and set them down. The older woman glanced at me knowingly but didn't say anything. I payed and left with my little plastic bag without a word. The drive back home felt like the longest of my life. By the time I arrived back home, my fingernails were bitten down to the quick.

I took the first test. The three minutes of waiting was painful. I thought about calling my mom to come home from the store and be with me, but I didn't want to worry her just yet. Trauma was notorious for messing with body functions, so it was possible all this was for nothing. I tried to remind myself that I was going through perhaps the worst event of my entire life and that was probably what was messing with my cycle.

When the time was up, I flipped the test over and stared at it. That little blue plus sign sealed my fate. I didn't blink, I didn't breathe, I just stared down at the small plastic stick in my fingers. There it was, the rest of my life, the conformation that I hadn't been through enough pain already. I was seventeen years old, my boyfriend had just died in a horrible accident and I was pregnant with his child. It was all too much, I don't know how I did it but I got up off the bathroom floor and walked down the hall to the phone. I called my parents at the store, when they answered I said coldly, "I need you both to come home right now."