We bought the test at Kmart. At least that’s how I remember it. Although it’s so long ago now, it could’ve been a CVS or Rite Aid. We only bought it to confirm what I was already sure of but didn’t want to believe. Couldn’t believe.
But I was late, not to get the test, that’s not what I mean. My period was late. And my boobs! Oh my god they were so sore. I walked with my elbows out in an effort to keep people at least three feet away from me lest they bump me.
So I knew. Not wanting something to be true doesn’t make it any less true. Because we weren’t married made me not want to face the truth. Because I had just started grad school made me not want to face the truth. Because I never wanted to have children, well at least not until I was 38, made me not want to face the truth; hell, I didn’t even like kids. And what was he doing then? Working third shift at a Drug Rehab, living with his parents. It wasn’t like we were ready for family.
“Apple, peaches, pumpkin pie. Who’s not ready, holler I.”
But ready or not, here we were. And where we were was sitting in a parking lot of a Perkins Restaurant waiting for the results. I’m not making this up. I went in and used the restaurant’s bathroom to pee on the stick and then we sat in his car in the parking lot waiting for the second line to appear (or against all hope, not to appear) in the test window. We let it sit on the console between us, by the gear shift. P for park. Or more like P for pregnant.
“Oh shit,” we said.