I Love Her Anyway

Chapter 15

Days at the bakery are slow and boring. Being at school feels like being imprisoned. Staying at home is even worse, hours of lying in bed crying, texting and calling and emailing only to find no response. It went on for weeks. Days upon days of depression, people asking if you were okay, your parents even thinking you were sick. You couldn’t even muster up a smile. Your brother even brought you home some ice cream one day, as much of a prick as he was. Everyone could sense something was wrong, but it was you who sensed it the most. It was like your life was falling apart without him there to be the glue to hold it all together. You needed him. So much.

               The pain only got worse, more vomiting and headaches, and also being hungry. Like, really fucking hungry. You craved the blueberry muffins at the bakery and begged Ashley to bake you batches to take home, mowing them down one after another. You were kind of worried about developing an eating disorder, but you reassured yourself it was better than turning towards a worse form of self-harm, especially after the break up. You strayed away from kids at school, became particularly quiet, and spent your lunches in the library rather than the cafeteria. You wanted to be alone.

               You were throwing up in the employee bathroom for the third time this week when Ashley knocked on the door. “Hey honey?” she called out. “Maybe just take off your shift, okay?”

               “No, I’m fine,” you reassure, flushing the toilet and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before opening up the door. “I’m alright.”

               “You sure it’s just being sick? This has been going on for about a month or two now,” she frowns. There’s a pause. “Are you late?”

               “What?” you raise an eyebrow. “No, I came five minutes early today.”

               “No,” she shakes her head. “Like, late. Period late.”

               “Well…” you feel sick at the realization. “It’s been three months but I’m sure it’s just irregular or something.”

               “Is there a chance?” she whispers. “You know? That you might be… pregnant?”

               “What?” your eyes widen. “No, no, of course not.” You laugh nervously, but fuck, there so definitely is. Especially after all the shit you and Brendon were pulling, or I guess, not pulling, last month. He reassured you that you’d be fine, and you didn’t think much of it, but shit. You didn’t use condoms and you were usually so fucked up you didn’t even really pay attention. Fuck. There was no way. Was there? You felt even more sick.

               “Oh, well maybe see a doctor?” she suggests. “Anyways, I want you to go home. Rest up. I’ll see you back here next week.”

               “Okay,” you complied.

               However, you didn’t just go home. Instead you drove to the nearest gas station, heart racing in your chest, fiddling thumbs and wobbly knees perusing the aisles until you landed on a pregnancy test in a tiny slender box. You had to find out somehow, right? You bit down on your lower lip as you approached the cashier, setting it on the counter silently. You hand over the cash and then he hands you the bag, you nodding in thanks before heading back to your car. When you get home, you race to your room and lock the door, heading to your bathroom and tearing the box open. You read the directions with hazy vision and do as told, then set it on the sink and wait. It’s the longest three minutes of your life. You’re almost hitting the mark when you hear your mom walk through the door and you scramble up out of your seat when she calls your name.