Silver Lining

three.

Three weeks later...

It's pretty pathetic how my life fits into five boxes and what's worse, I loaded them into my car with ease; I didn't even need to squeeze any of them to fit. All my furniture I had to leave behind, only taking my clothes, kitchenware and necessities with me, and now I'm sleeping on my old roommate's sofa until I work the rest of my notice.

I only have one week left in New York; it's been three weeks since I found out I was getting evicted, and time is going too fast. Aiden's been in touch almost every day with apartment listings, but they're all so out of budget; I'd have to work over sixteen hours a day, seven days a week for me to afford them. 

After the first week, the reality hit that I would be taking the thirty-hour drive home at the end of the month if I liked it or not. My parents are yet to know, I'm tempted to turn up and see how long it takes for them to notice I'm even there.

Work was a place where I loved to go, but now it is becoming more depressing with the fewer shifts I have left. Today is Monday, my day off, and I don't know what my plans are. I've been lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling for the last ten minutes, so nothing is promising.

"Rise and shine, sleepy head, breakfast is on the table!"

My stomach rumbles at Isabelle's words and I jump up from the sofa, but when I do my stomach turns and the hunger I was once feeling gets replaced with nausea. I pin it down to getting up too fast, but as soon as the smell of fresh bacon hits my nostrils, I'm racing for the bathroom instead of the kitchen.

Retching over the toilet, I empty my stomach of last night's meal and once I feel like I'm okay, I sit back and wipe my mouth, catching a breath.

"Iris?" Isabelle murmurs, opening the door slightly, "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," I nod, taking another deep breath, but another wave of nausea hits me, "Nope, not so peachy," I heave over the toilet once again.

She holds back my hair as I throw up, and rubs my back, helping me through the sickness. When I feel a bit better again, I sit back and the concern is written all over my friend's face.

"I must have eaten something dodgy," I say, my throat sore from the acid.

"You had exactly what Jake and I had yesterday, and I feel fine," she frowns, and I sigh, holding my head. It won't stop pounding. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"What?" I hysterically laugh, until I sober up at the actual thought, "I can't be pregnant, right?"

"I don't know, you tell me, you slept with that guy from the club recently; is your period late?"

From all the stress of the last few weeks, I hadn't realized I was in fact a week or two late, "My cycle is always weird, you know that."

"By a few days, yeah, how late are you?"

"Around two weeks," I wince, holding my head again, "I can't be pregnant, we used condoms!"

"And how long ago did you purchase those condoms, Iris?" she asks.

"Hey! I know I went through a celibate era, but don't call me out, I'm sensitive right now," I try to joke.

"Condoms expire, idiot," she slaps my leg.

"Oh," I whisper, "I'm such a fucking idiot, how could I let this happen? No, this can't be happening, I can't be pregnant! Not with a guy who is with someone else! Oh fuck, and I'm leaving next week! My parents will kill me, I can't do this alone!"

"Okay, let's calm down, you don't know yet, hold on," she opens up the cabinets under the sink, and after a few seconds she passes me a test, "Pee on that, I'll go get you some water."