Chapter One
(Flashback: Leila)
I stared at the cardboard boxes stacked on my bathroom sink like I was staring into a black hole.
I replayed the past hour in my mind. The walk of shame to the aisle. Taking stock of my surroundings, making sure no one spotted me as I rounded up my purchase. The cashier’s alarm had morphed into pity as she scanned the boxes, each one holding a pregnancy test. I’d joked that I’d rather be safe than sorry. She didn’t even crack a grin, her eyes flitting between judgment and sympathy.
I wasn’t laughing now.
In fact, I was dangerously close to bawling my eyes out.
If you looked up ‘girly’, my picture wouldn’t be beside the definition. I shied away from pink. I’d always preferred GI Joe and monster trucks to Barbies growing up. And to my mother’s grave disappointment, I was more comfortable in Converse than a pair of heels.
Despite all that, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a mental list of baby names. Names like Scarlet if it was a girl, and Rafe if it was a boy. Cursive scribbles in the margin of my notebook, dreaming about the day I’d find someone to sit up in a tree with. K-i-s-s-i-n-g.
You skipped right past the marriage part to the baby carriage, I thought glumly.
I eyeballed the boxes that lined the countertop.
Like building blocks.
Like the end of all my dreams—and the start of something else.
I gingerly picked up the first, tearing it open. The ripping sound was magnified in the silence like I had a mic, up on stage, with all eyes on me. I knew I was home alone, but it was a tiny blessing that didn’t quell my paranoia.
I turned on the faucet and blasted some random song on my phone, just in case. Trying to not picture the shock and shame on my parent’s faces when I told them I was pregnant.
My hands still rattled so hard I almost dropped the slender test on the ground.
To be honest, I had bigger things to worry about than my parent’s disappointment. Other concerns to make me tremble besides the fact that college would have to wait.
My free hand shot to my belly, the knots doubling. Tripling.
If you’re pregnant, there’s a very real chance you’ll be raising this baby alone.
Case in point: Corbin’s flirtatious antics were dialed up to a fever pitch lately. He didn’t show any sign of guilt or remorse anymore when he ignored me in favor of making some other girl blush. The last date we had was cut short when the waitress offered him her number. He accepted the napkin with me sitting right across from him.
New dress, new makeup, new internal pep talk from yours truly (he’s hot, this is the price of dating a hot guy)…all of it went to waste. I told him to ask her for a ride home and left his ass in the restaurant.
That would have been the end we deserved.
But then he apologized, with flowers and a song he wrote just for me.
I’d wavered, losing my nerve to end things. And shortly after that, I missed my period.
I skimmed the instructions. I had options. I could pee on it directly or I could pee in a cup, then test.
Since I couldn’t stop shaking long enough not to drop the whole test in the toilet, I decided to go with the latter. I picked up a spare cup and rinsed it. Dried it. Made sure there wasn’t a single drop of liquid in the cup.
I inhaled and exhaled, the gallon of water I drank before this more than ready to be unleashed. I did my thing, carefully putting it aside and preparing the stick. I positioned the absorbent tip in the cup for twenty seconds like I was holding something fragile. When I was done, I put it on the countertop and set the timer. I didn’t even bother putting the cap on.
I dropped on the toilet, staring straight ahead at the yellowing, flower covered wallpaper. Trying to comfort myself, since Corbin hadn’t offered any support at all. No offer to drive me to the pharmacy. To be there in person, or via Skype or text. In fact, the only thing he said when I told him I might be pregnant was, ‘I’ve gotta go’.
The tears I’d been fighting all morning spilled down my cheeks, but I stayed strong. I didn’t count the seconds. I didn’t give in to despair. I tried to stay optimistic. Count my blessings. My mother wouldn’t really kill me, especially if her grandbaby was growing inside me. Maybe I could take night classes. Take on more hours at the coffee shop. My manager had already planted seeds about becoming a shift lead and I-
The alarm cut through my mental ramblings, snatching me back down to Earth.
It was time.
