Count On Me

Three Minutes

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2014 | 3:45 PM | TRIS

Lying on Uriah's bed, my eyes dart around the room. Taking in the same view I woke up to that morning that I realized what we had done ― the consequences of which I am still dealing with right now ― makes my heart pound. Uriah lies next to me on his side, head propped up with his elbow on the mattress, the other arm draped across my chest and his hand holding mine. He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand rhythmically but it is not enough to calm me in this moment.

"How much longer?" I ask, my voice tight.

Uriah lets go of my hand to grab his phone, which is laying beside me on the mattress. He turns on the screen and his eyes meet mine. "Thirty seconds," he says. "I swear, these are the longest three minutes of my life."

"Funny," I say, "I was just thinking they were the shortest."

Uriah shrugs. "Amazing that three minutes is all it takes to know if our lives are changing forever."

I just nod. Uriah's hand wraps around mine again and I hold on tight. As long as I have known Uriah, he has been the one to keep me grounded.

This wouldn't be the first time that just a few minutes have changed my life. Like the few minutes in which my mother told me she was sick. Or the few minutes it took me to walk into Tobias's house and discover his room stripped of everything that made it his.

But this is different to either of those situations. This will determine whether Uriah and I will be responsible for an actual human being before we even begin our senior year of high school. A responsibility that we would carry with us for the rest of our entire lives.

The room has been so silent that the alarm on the timer makes me jump. Five quick beeps, followed by a short silence before the sound repeats. The sound feels like it is splitting through me as Uriah fumbles with his phone and finally turns it off, leaving us in silence again.

Uriah nudges me to get up but I lie there, limp. "You go look," I tell him. "I can't do it."

"Yes you can. Don't be a pansycake," Uriah says lightly. I glare at him and he rolls his eyes. "Tris, everything will be fine. You're probably not pregnant. Remember that stuff we read on the internet? The morning after pill could cause you to be late, or stress could do it..."

I nod. I know he's right; even without the emergency contraception I took in the mix to mess my hormones, the stress of this last month ― my mother's death and then Jacob's, both their funerals, the turmoil between Uriah and me these past weeks ― could certainly have affected my body.

"But... what if I am?"

For a long moment, Uriah's rich brown eyes peer deep into my pale blue ones. Then he stands up, reaches a hand out and pulls me up to stand next to him with a confidence that makes it instinct to let him, rather than fight him on it. Once I am standing, he doesn't let go of my hand, but he raises his other hand gently to my cheek and softly strokes my skin with his thumb.

"I don't know, Tris. But I promise you, we will figure it out together. You can count on me." He grins at me and adds, "Like one-two-three."

I can't help smiling, just a little. Uriah's reassurance has calmed me just enough for that, and just enough to take a deep breath, preparing to face the verdict that will now show on that little white strip of plastic that waits on the bathroom counter.

Uriah doesn't let go of my hand on the short walk across the hall, and he still doesn't let go once we are in the bathroom. I pick up the test with the tips of two fingers, not really wanting to touch something I peed on five minutes ago, and Uriah picks up the box.