sweet creature [tayvis]

chapter four

January 3rd, 2012

How long can one go until it is impossible to hold a vomitty substance in their stomach? Because apparently I can't for very long.

I spit the last of my morning sickness into the toilet bowl, hot tears still streaming down my face and my body trembling uncontrollably. Not necessarily because I just puked up every organ in my entire body, but because the sheer panic that sheds through my veins because a wave of nausea hit me two hours ago. I've been curled up into a ball on my bathroom floor since then, and only set loose just now because I my body couldn't take it anymore.

I lay sprawled out on the bathroom floor for a few minutes before finally deciding to get up. Flushing the toilet, I wipe my hoodie sleeve across my chapped lips, wincing as the skin burns. My brain chemistry is altered to shower after another episode of morning sickness, but my limbs will not allow it.

For days, I'd forced myself to put the suggestion that Lauren made that I might be pregnant behind me. I swore it was only part of my cold I'd contracted a month ago, but the morning sickness repeated every morning at five-thirty. Maybe my body had just come up with some shenanigan to pull? But only for so long, surely. I couldn't run from the exception anymore. It was getting hard  to hide and the reminder of the possibility seemed to have lingered wherever I go.

Sighing, I kneel down in front of the cabinet beneath the sink. The hatch screeches as I pry it open, revealing numerous pill bottles, rolls of toilet paper, hair tools and other miscellaneous items. My eyes scan the shelves, eventually falling on a little pink rectangular box I'd been searching for. With my hand shaking, I reach out, clutching my fingers around the box so tightly as if it were going to jump away from me.

I tilt the box just above the palm of my hand, two pregnancy tests dropping into my grasp. I swallow hard as I took the test. The only reason these are in my house is because of a pregnancy scare Joe and I had last year, but luckily for me everything came out negative. Hopefully this was just another scare and I could happily go on with my life without this mending embarrassment. When I finish the test, I flip it upside down in the sink bowl before stumbling to the bathroom to grab a new set of clothes. I undress myself slowly, wearily before stepping into the shower.

If I'm pregnant, this isn't what it was supposed to be. I was supposed to release my fourth studio album by the end of the year and go on tour. Mom's already disappointed in me for the way I've flipped my life around these last few months, and rightfully so. If I'm pregnant with some random guys' kid that I had a one night stand with because I was pissed off, that's not just a debacle of them, but also myself.

About a half an hour later, I step out of the shower. I step into a pair of black baggy sweats and a tank top, leaving my hair down, damp and curly. Clutching my abdomen, I lean against the counter, staring blankly at the pink stink. I outreach for the test, clenching it in my hands. Staggering against the wall, my chest heaves of anxiety. I gulp something down, maybe it was my self respect, and that's if I'm lucky enough for all that to have been. Then hesitantly, I flip the test over.

No.

Positive.

No. It can't be. That's wrong.

Crying, I pull out another one.

Positive.

Another one.

This can't be right, can it? An honest mistake it must be. This couldn't happen to me.

I pick it up. Positive.

Shit.

January 8th, 2012.

Sitting with my knees drawn up to my chest, picking my lip, I scroll through the media. I'd been on my laptop all day, stalking NFL pages on different socials, praying that a face would remind me of just who I was with that night. It sounds terrible even to myself that I haven't remembered his name. Really, I didn't even want the kid. I felt I was too young, not yet stable enough to raise a baby. I had priorities and I wasn't ready for a child to be one of them. The very least I could do in this complex situation is ask the father, the father I don't remember the name to, what they wanted. It wouldn't be fair of me to abort the child without his input. And, I wasn't going to raise it alone.