In His Hands

Rachel

Rachel slid down the bathroom wall onto the cold tiled floor, resting her chin on her knees. She huffed, blowing a stray curl up for a moment only to fall back down on her face. She was growing impatient and anxious.

Just 30 more seconds, she thought to herself.

She listened to the click of the second hand as it rotated around the sea-shell shaped clock. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She decided to play the scene over again in her head, that embarrassing scene she wished she could forget but unfortunately, will probably be ingrained into her brain for future restless night thinking.

She stood in the aisle of the gas station, staring at the Trojan and Durex boxes, wishing she was buying those instead of the stupid box of judgement and shame she was about to purchase.

She looked around, and met eyes with the older lady working the checkout. White hair and wrinkles, but not the good "I've had a joyous life" kind of wrinkles but the deep, callous kind only caused by years of scowling at the disappointment she felt towards the entire human race.

Rachel fidgeted nervously and looked back at the shelf. Some women would be eager to buy this box, to even be contemplating needing to use this product. She even imagined herself one day, older and more stable, being ecstatic to be in this situation. Right now, though, she was not excited, she was not eager, and she definitely was not ready to deal with the judgemental checkout lady, let alone what the results of this test would bring.

She grabbed the box, and fumbled with it for a minute before walking up to the counter.

The older woman stood up from the stool she was sitting on and stepped to the register slowly.

"Ginger," read her name tag. Ginger delicately picked up the glasses that were hanging around her neck and placed them on her small sloped nose. She looked at the box and then up at Rachel without ever moving her head.

Rachel smiled uncomfortably and shifted in her shoes. She felt like she might burst into flames right then and there due to the condemnation Ginger's icy eyes bestowed upon her.

The woman pulled her gaze away and rung up the test, tossing it in a brown bag.

"Two oh three." Said the woman flatly and Rachel fumbled with her wallet pulling out the money shakily.

Ginger gave Rachel her change and sat back down on her stool behind the counter, folding her arms disapprovingly.

She took the bag, and turned to leave when she saw a woman and her small child approaching the door, Rachel held it open for them, and the little girl smiled as a thank you.

She had curly, blond hair, that barely touched her shoulders, and bright pink cheeks. The little girl brushed against Rachel's leg as her mother led her into the store by her hand, it made the hairs on her arms stand still.

Rachel stopped for a moment and felt her stomach churn, she walked to her car and sat for a moment in the silence and sighed, letting the nausea subside before driving off.

Click.

The sound of her clock brought her back into her mind, and reminded her just where she was. She looked around.

Her bathroom was usually her comfort zone, the one place she felt like she could let go of whatever was bothering her. She would often turn her music up and dance, singing into her tooth brush while she was getting ready. Or where she could sink into her tub full of flower scented bubbles and enjoy some silence and her favorite book. Her bathroom, in a normal situation, would bring her comfort and peace.

But not now. Now it was cold. The walls were ice, and she was shaking. She couldn't tell if it was from the actual temperature or from nerves.

She rubbed her hands up her slender arms, trying to warm up or maybe shake the feeling of dread. It was time.

She lifted herself up, and stood just inches away from her bathroom counter, but far enough she couldn't quite see what it said. She knew she would eventually have to pick it up and look but she was scared.