“So I guess it was loverboy?” Kiara is trying to cheer me up.
“Yep, he’s busy with the whole Chloe thing.”
“Chloe-thing?” Kiara looks confused and I realize she doesn’t know about this part of the story.
“They’re talking to Chloe’s dad, to tell him that they’re going to get an interdict against Chloe. Kiara, can one person have so much baggage? Will I be able to fix …”
I jump up and run into the kitchen, puking into the sink. Shit.
The door opens and Logan and Axel stride through, their greeting interrupted by me vomiting again. I open the tap and wash the evidence down the drain.
“She still sick?” Logan asks as if I’m not able to answer that for myself. I wipe my mouth and get some ginger ale from the fridge.
“Yep. Sick as a bug. Do you know anything about this?” Kiara hands my phone to Axel so he can read the blog. Logan jumps onto the sofa, taking the bowl of half-melted ice cream from the table. He takes a big bite and then he spits it out unceremoniously.
“Yuck, what the fuck is this?” He looks at the bowl pulling an I-just-ate-shit face.
“Mel’s new snack. Ice cream with gherkins, peanut butter, jam, and chocolate sauce. Definitely not going to make it into any recipe book soon, that’s for damn sure.” Kiara explains, sitting down next to my brother. I just roll my eyes at him.
“No shit. No wonder you’re puking. Are you pregnant or something?” He wipes his tongue with his fingers as if he ate poison.
“Nope, not pregnant, so it must be or something. But please look at the pictures on the phone. Is it true?” He takes the phone from Axel. The two of them share one of those strange boy looks girls don’t understand.
“What is this shit?” he says scrolling through the site.
“We should let Jackson look into it,” Axel says as he calmly leans back and stretches out his legs in front of him. My brother looks at me.
“It’s not my story to share, but some bad shit happened to that dude. Just don’t pull another psycho-drama-queen act again.” Gmf. I had very good reasons to act out.
I nod silently, my heart only now turning to a normal rhythm. What a shitty day!
“We’re going to the club, but I can see you girls are not in the mood, so see you later.” They get up and go. I don’t know if it’s the bug or all the stress of the last few minutes, but it feels as if I’m going to pass out right there. I run to my bathroom, not wanting to throw up in the sink again. I barf two times and pull the toilet chain. I rinse the sour taste of vomit from my mouth and wash my face for what feels like the hundredth time today.
The white plastic pregnancy stick catches my eye and I pick it up to dump it in the bin, but my hand freezes mid-air. I stare at the faint second line scolding me.
NO! NO! NO! Shit.
I turn the stick around and then back up as if it’s going to make the line disappear. But of course, it doesn’t. I take the box and read the instructions on the side of it.
‘Unprotected sex with a man can lead to pregnancy.’
Now isn’t that just the dumbest thing I’ve ever read? I laugh out loud, mainly from shock, cause it sounds almost like the warning on cigarette boxes, you know the one that says smoking can lead to lung cancer.
But let’s continue.
Sex, check. Man, check. No protection, check. (I am on the pill, but might have skipped one or two, maybe five)
I read the part that says that the test might not work, or the line might be faint when you’re under 8 weeks pregnant. I quickly make some sums in my head, realizing that the dance was around 5 weeks ago. The reality hits me solid between the eyes and I turn back to the toilet to barf yet again.
Two pink lines mean you are pregnant. Confirm this with a doctor’s appointment.
Two pink lines, check. Doctor’s appointment, oh, boy.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing with the freaking stick in my hand, eyeing the pink lines, but the next thing I know Kiara takes me into a hug. I didn’t even hear her come in.
“Mel, it’s going to be okay. Things will work out no matter what.” I look into her eyes via the mirror and I know she can see the fear in mine. She shakes her head and I bite my lip.
“Well, it’s not all bad. You love him and he’s crazy about you.” She’s trying to cheer me up.
“And soon he’s going to be killed! If not by my stalker then by my brothers. And then my family is going to kill me! Anyways, this baby’s going to be an orphan before it’s even born.” Kiara throws her head back and laughs her ass off at me.
This. Is. Not. Funny.
“Bitch, it’s no laughing matter.” Wiping her face with her sleeve, she tries to keep her composure, but I’m not amused. She takes the brown bag from the counter and takes out three more tests.
“Damion must have bought more in case ….” It came out positive. There, I’ve said it. “Clever man. At least the baby’s going to have looks and brains.”
“And dead parents.” I eagerly take the tests and after reading the instructions I sit down on the toilet and pee on each one, lining them in a row on the counter.
“I’m finished,” I tell Kiara, needing to say something so I don’t feel the pressure creeping up my throat, but I suppose she can see that for herself.
“They say to wait for about three minutes.” I’ve never been so nervous in my life. She glares at the tests.
“It says to wait!” I shout but Kiara is ignoring me. She frowns, picking up one and then another test, and then she quickly grabs the last one.
“Mel, you’re really pregnant,” she blurts out and my knees buckle under me, I sit down on the toilet to keep myself from falling. She holds up the tests under my nose.
The one has ‘Pregnant’ in black on the little screen and the other two both reveal 2 pink lines. She throws her arms, still holding the sticks, in the air.
“You’re fucking pregnant! You skipped your fucking pills again, didn’t you?” I walk over to the bed and fall down, probably looking like a zombie. My eyes are still on the sticks in her hands as if staring at them is going to magically change the results or worse, make me even more pregnant.
“Shit, so this is really happening?” I’m talking to myself. “What am I going to do now? Damion doesn’t want a baby.” Tears are forming in my eyes. What the hell am I going to do? I’m only in my first year of a four-year degree and Damion is riding bikes for a living; not forgetting that he doesn’t want this baby.
Yes, there’s more than enough money, but that’s not the point. Kiara drops the tests on the counter and sits behind me, her legs cradling me. She pulls me into her body and we both cry, our bodies shaking with each sob.
“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Kiara whispers in my ear, but she doesn’t sound convincing. “You have so many things counting for you … a great best friend, a loving family, enough money, a good man … you got this, bitch. It’s going to be a breeze.”
“And at least you’re baby is going to be extremely pretty and clever and sporty. That’s a good thing, right? And wild and cocky and moody …” I glare at her with killer eyes. She’s not helping.