Christen brought herself home immediately, appearing inside of her bedroom, where the sob that had been itching at the back of her throat finally escaped. Christen cupped her hand over her mouth as tears streamed down her face, crawling into bed and curling into the fetal position beneath her blankets. She reached for her pillow, clutching it to her chest as she sobbed against the soft cotton. She was devastated, heartbroken, and terrified. She ached, Tobin’s words replayed in her head as she tried to calm her devastated heart.
I have the right to know these things!
I don’t know if I want more kids.
I don’t know if this is what I want.
Christen buried her face into the pillow, nails digging into her pillowcase as she heaved a breath of air into her starving lungs before she was once again gripped by sobs.
You’re never going to be happy about this, are you?Tobin’s haunting response played like a broken record in her mind. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.
Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?
Christen wept into her pillow. She felt so utterly defeated. She couldn’t even muster the strength to lift her head to blow her nose, instead wiping it against her sleeve before turning back to the dampened pillowcase and crying some more. She couldn’t think, her mind overrun by Tobin’s words, her angry looks, the obvious upset she felt at Christen’s news. Christen was devastated, and she wept for what felt like hours against her pillow. Eventually exhaustion took over, and Christen succumbed to her body’s need for rest.
For the three days following Christen’s confession, Tobin felt as though she were on an emotional roller coaster. One moment she was feeling angry, the next confused, then hurt, or worried, or unbelievably sad. And every once in a while, as the days progressed, she (very briefly) would felt a spark of excitement. But more often than not, her feelings were overwhelmingly negative. More than once, she had found herself wiping tears she hadn’t even realised she had shed, feeling the tickle of something wet sliding down her cheek as she paced around. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, could barely concentrate on anything. She was having trouble processing and accepting the news that she had been given, utterly lost as to what to do. She needed to talk to Christen eventually, and a pang of guilt ate at her every time she thought of the woman and the devastated look on her face. Right now though, Tobin couldn’t. She couldn’t talk when she was this… whirlwind of emotion. She needed time, she needed space, and she needed to process her thoughts and her feelings. She needed to think about what was happening.
Ma? You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing around like that. Sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”
“Sorry, kid.”
He’d been telling her that for the last three days. Henry had been staying at her place ever since she and Christen had talked, and he’d been on her to talk to him, to stop pacing, to tell him what was going on.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on or are you going to lie to me again and say you’re just thinking?”
“I’m not lying,” Tobin said, biting her thumbnail. “I am thinking.”
“Well, I can hear you thinking from across the room. You’re obviously thinking about something big.”
Tobin snorted. You have no idea.
“Don’t you have things to do?”
Henry shrugged.
“I’m fifteen. School’s out. The only thing I have to do is eat your food and watch your tv. And give you laundry.”
