Summer of Us

EPILOGUE

My hands are steady until I'm dialing the number, bringing my phone to my ear. I take in my surroundings to try and calm myself, but the disaster state of our bathroom is no help. Scattered make-up, overturned bottles of hair product, various hot hair tools still plugged into outlets though they're not in use. There's water stains on the mirror, toothpaste gunked into the sink, and my roommate's towel has been dumped on the tile by the shower. Soon, she'd be stumbling in from a night out with our friends, drunk and most likely bearing food for me.

But I don't think I could eat anything even if I wanted to. Not now, or maybe ever again.

He picks up on the next to last ring, voice groggy as he says, "Aves?"

"I'm late."

There's a pause, the sound of covers rustling together. My mind rushes back to our mountain excursion, the first afternoon when the heat had broken and sitting next to a roaring fire pit. Blood and sweat and raw, unprotected sex.

Monty must be thinking about the same thing, because the next thing he says is, "Did you take a test?"

"I'm about to," I say, looking at my reflection. The girl that looks back is wide-eyed and terrified. "I didn't want to do it alone."

My last period was due to happen a week ago, and when it hadn't come despite the end of my birth control cycle, I hadn't been worried. It had happened before, me missing a period or coming later than normal while I'm at school. Last time the school nurse had chalked it up to the stress of finals and that it was normal. Then she had ripped me a new one for not using a condom, even though that time I had.

But while studying for an art history quiz an hour ago, I'd unexpectedly barfed into my desk drawer, and I knew this time wasn't like the others.

"Don't," he says. "I'm driving down."

"What?" I say, not expecting this reaction. I'd imagined cussing and yelling and a mental breakdown. Not this. "Right now? Monty, it's the middle of the night. You can't. Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"I'll call out," he says, and I hear footsteps, the slither of a shirt against skin, keys jingling. "Stay put, I'll be there in a few hours."

"Monty, don't do this," I say, though my heart is thumping at the thought of seeing him again so soon. In person, and not through the front camera of my phone. I sit down on the cool tile by the toilet, back against the wall and hand sliding down the side of my face. "I'll just take the damn thing and tell you what it says. I didn't mean to get you all worked up—"

"Aves, if you're carrying my baby, then I want to be there," he says, voice serious. "The moment you find out. Because I love you, and we did this together. And if you're pregnant, than we're pregnant, and I want to be there for the start if this is the rest of our lives."

A chill runs down my spine. I don't know if it's from the sound of him saying "my baby" or because even though everything might be about to change forever, I know that I've chosen a worthy partner.

"Get some sleep," he says, and a door rattles shut in the background. Even from here, I can hear the roar of the insects out in the wilderness of Lancaster. "I'll be there soon."

"I couldn't sleep right now even if I wanted to," I say, my eyes getting caught on my Altoids tin atop the hand towel by the sink. I think about taking my medication to ease my nerves. But no, I want to feel this. And though I'm scared of what the future holds, I'm not afraid of my emotions, not right now.

He sighs. "Talk to me until I get there, then."

I sigh too, leaning my head against the wall. "Talk about what?"

"I don't know. How you're feeling, how all this happened." The Bronco starts up. "Tell me anything."

And so I do. I talk like we hadn't just talked hours before, like we hadn't been calling each other every day since I left. And though my panic threatens to swallow me whole, I sit and wait for him, on the brink of possibly being entwined with Monty forever.