Where You Are

The Bottom of the Washing Machine

Birgitta

A little over a week after Jesse's surprise visit, I was finally getting around to cleaning up my apartment. I'd been in a bit of a dreamy haze since we'd made up and finally had sex. Was this normal? I couldn't stop smiling. Colours seemed brighter, the moon fuller and whiter, I felt like I was floating on a cloud high in the sky. Even Patricia, the cranky, 70-year-old labour and delivery nurse who smoked and only worked night shifts, seemed pretty.

Maybe I should have got laid years ago.

I had music playing as loud as I dared, mindful of my neighbours and whatever it was they were doing at the moment. I couldn't ignore the fact that it had been weeks since I washed my bed sheets anymore. They smelled like Jesse since he'd spent the night and it helped me sleep better. Unfortunately, they also smelled like sweat and definitely couldn't be considered clean. I had to do it.

After the wash ran, I switched them to the dryer, the fresh rain smell of my detergent making me a little upset. Oh well, he'd just have to spend the night again soon. Or, I'd have to take something of his that smelled like him to keep with me at night when I wasn't with him.

There was something small and metallic at the bottom of the washer. I pulled it out to investigate, I didn't really have a clue what it could be.

Oh. The condom wrapper. No wonder I didn't know what it was, this was the first time anything like this had ever been in my apartment.

Suddenly, I froze and did a double take. Four numbers printed on it had stopped me in my tracks and I flipped it over to take a closer look.

Exp. 31 Mar 2017

Oh, shit.

The condom Jesse had used had been expired for over a year.

I dropped the wrapper and sank down to sit on the floor with my back up against the washer. My legs suddenly felt weak and shaky. I whipped my phone out of my pocket and pulled up Google.

I'd never typed so fast in my life and frustratedly had to retype my search four times before I spelled words correctly and got results.

I mean, it was just latex, right? Did latex really expire? Apparently, they sat in landfills for decades before they actually decomposed. They probably just had to put a date on the wrapper for legal reasons.

However, my hope was quashed quickly as I read through the results. It seemed condoms really did expire.

No, no, no, no, no.

The cloud is been riding for the past few days suddenly came crashing to the ground.

I flipped over to my period tracker next. It would be just my luck to have been ovulating the same day I had sex for the first time and with an expired condom, no less.

Okay, so I hadn't been ovulating, but I had been within that scary chance-of-getting-pregnant window. Shit, that window had never been scary before. There had never been a reason for it to be scary before.

The research did say that an expired condom was better than no condom at all. So there was that. I guess.

But what the hell was Jesse doing with an expired condom in the first place? He must not know. I knew he wouldn't mean anything bad by it. He just must not have realized.

Shit, I had to call him and let him know. But I couldn't right then, I was still majorly panicking. I didn't want to freak him out. I had to take a pregnancy test, but according to my period tracker, that wouldn't give a valid result for another week. And I was flying out to meet his parents just a few days after that.