Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I close my eyes and call the one person I know I can call in this sort of situation, and she answers after half a ring. “Hey, gorgeous,” Zoey says and my eyes suddenly sting.
“Remember when I was in high school and you told me I could come to you for anything and you would never ask me anything, but you would support me.” I put it on speakerphone as I pull up my apps and pick the pharmacy app.
“Yeah,” she says softly and I can hear her moving around on her side. “What’s this all about?”
“I’m like ten days late.”
“Oh my God,” she gasps and then starts to chant it while I add pregnancy tests to my cart. I pick two of each and then check out. It tells me they will be here in less than twenty minutes. “Have you taken a test?”
“No,” I tell her, “I just found out I’m late.” My voice is almost shrieking at this point as I put my hand on my forehead, feeling my clammy head while I pace my bedroom. “This morning, my coffee tasted bad,” I start to tell her all my symptoms.
“What? You didn’t realize you had all the symptoms of a pregnancy?”
“Zoey, we had a deal.”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. So the first thing you have to do is go and take a test.”
“I ordered them.”
“You ordered pregnancy tests?” she gasps again.
“Of course I did, you don’t think I’m going to go to the pharmacy and pick them up. What if I see someone I know?” My phone beeps in my hand and it tells me Lizzie has my order. “It’s going to be here in fifteen minutes.”
“Ariella,” she says softly, “who are you dating?”
“No one,” I admit to her and close my eyes. “I had a thing with someone. It was a one-night thing”—I sit on my bed—“but we used protection.”
“It’s going to be okay,” she states, trying to sound supportive. “Like, do you know him?”
“Oh yeah, I know him.” I sit down on the floor with my back to my bed as I look at the status of my order. I follow her on the map as if my life depends on it, and I guess it does. “I can’t even believe this.”
“Do you have to pee?” she asks me and I look down between my legs. “If you do, you should do it in a cup.”
“In a cup?” I ask, grossed out. “I’m not using one of my cups to pee in.”
“You don’t have a cup that you can throw out?” I get up and walk to the kitchen, going through my cups, and finally find a small plastic one I got from a coffee shop and never threw away.
“I’m scared, Zoey,” I confess to her as a tear starts to fall down my cheek.
“Ariella, it’s going to be okay. It’ll all be okay,” she comforts and the sound of the doorbell ringing has me yelling out as I run toward the door and open it. The plastic bag is on the stoop and I grab it, looking right and left before running back inside.
“Okay, I’ll call you back,” I tell her and she yells.
“I don’t think so!” she shrieks. “Start peeing.” I put the phone on the counter as I pull my pants down and look at the cup between my legs. “What’s happening now?” Zoey asks me.
“I’m trying to pee but it’s like I have stage fright or something,” I say frantically, getting up and turning on the water in the sink. “That might help,” I add, sitting back down and trying to force myself to pee. “Come on, come on, come on,” I start to chant as I start to pee in the cup. I gasp. “We have pee,” I tell her and she cheers on her end. I fill the cup up halfway before putting it on the counter, trying not to get grossed out that a cup of my pee is on my counter.
Getting up and pulling up my pants, I grab the first box of pregnancy tests. “I don’t know how this works,” I admit to her, turning the box over and quickly looking at the directions. “Okay, start a timer,” I say, as I stick the tip of the test in the cup of pee, “for three minutes.”
“Okay, three minutes and counting down.” I take another box out and read the instructions to that one before I ask.
“How much time left now?”
“Two minutes forty-seven seconds,” she replies and my leg starts to move up and down with nerves as I sit on the toilet seat.
“How you doing?”
“About as good as I can be,” I answer her nervously. “Trying not to think about what happens next if it’s positive.”
“You could just be late,” she soothes softly, “you know stress fucks with your cycle, along with a thousand other things.” I don’t know who she is trying to reassure. Me or herself.