28
REBECCA
“There, that’s better,” I say out loud to myself as my voice echoes through the empty house. I stare at the little shelf in the bathroom that holds my essentials. This morning, the idea of getting some alone time to relax after such a hectic few days sounded fantastic.
But now that I’m in it, I can’t seem to sit still for more than a few minutes. My body is exhausted, but my mind is going into overdrive. The best way to settle this is for me to keep moving.
With that, I’ve spent most of the time Steven and Damian have been gone, unpacking all our belongings so that Steven’s house feels more like our home as a family.
It’s hard to think about for too long, but being here is going to be so beneficial for all of us. Although the altercation with my family is still fresh. It hurts to think that they threw us away like we were nothing.
Sighing, I walk back into Steven’s…no,ourbedroom and look around. For being a bachelor for a good chunk of his life, he sure has gotten the hang of properly decorating. The gun-metal graycurtains match his bedspread perfectly, along with his navy-blue walls.
It gives off a professional decorator vibe, but it works. I don’t have many changes I would make to his house…our house. A few decorations here and there, and some pictures hung in the living room, and I’ll be happy.
Not to mention new cookware for the kitchen. I’ve gotten a look at what he has, and it looks like the same my grandmother used to have when I was growing up. It needs an update, but this also gives me the familiar sense of my family, which is nice.
As I step out into the hallway, I immediately smell the cleaner that I’ve been using simultaneously throughout the morning.
Along with unpacking all the bags and boxes, I’ve been spot cleaning along the way. With a bucket of cleaning water and a rag, I’ve been getting all the dust and cobwebs that I find.
The last room is Damian’s, and I begin putting his clothing in the correct drawers and emptying his bag of toys into a tote that we are using as a temporary toy box until I can get one ordered for him.
By the time I finish, my body is screaming at me to take a break. This time, I actually listen as I find a cozy position on the couch and flip through the list of holiday baking competition shows before finding the perfect one.
The male host begins speaking, introducing the judges and competitors, and I rest my head against the throw pillow. Even doing the small amount I have today, I feel as though I’ve been working a fifteen-hour shift with no break.
My body and mind have been exhausted this entire week, bringing along the nausea and odd cravings. Today, it’s orange juice, which strikes me as odd since I’m not a big fan to begin with.
My expression shifts as I think about the last time I felt and behaved this way. It was five years ago when I was pregnant with Damian.
As the realization sets in, I shoot up from my lying position and grip the back of the couch with my knuckles turning white.
“No,” I whisper. “No. It can’t be…”
Can I really be pregnant? This is the absolute worst time for news like this, given the current chaotic situation I’m in.
The more I think about everything from the time Steven and I started fooling around, the timeline adds up. We’ve been sleeping together for a few weeks now, but can I really handle being pregnant on top of all the other stress?
There’s really only one way to settle this. Jumping up, I slip my feet into my snow boots, grab my car keys, and rush out the front door. I remember seeing a pharmacy right down the block from the house. I just pray that it’s open on a Saturday.
It’s only two in the afternoon, but some pharmacies close early on the weekends. As I pull up, the bright red sign is lit up, giving me hope that I can clear up this mess before Steven comes home with Damian.
No need to cause him panic before I know for sure what’s going on. All my symptoms can be chalked up to being overly stressed. All except the orange juice…
Trying to keep my breathing steady, I rush to the aisle that holds all the feminine hygiene products. All of the blue and white boxes are too much to take in.
There are so many options: digital, ones with pink lines…How do I decide when my mind is in such a panicked state? Why can’t there just be one go-to?
I look to my left, and then my right, as if waiting to see if others in the store are looking at me, judging me. Paranoia sets in, and I grab the digital test in front of me before rushing out of the aisle.
The entire time spent paying and driving back home is taken up by prayers. Prayers that will make this test negative…or even to give me the strength to remain calm if I have to tell Steven.
Having another child isn’t necessarily a bad thing; it’s just terrible timing for us. We are just getting used to living together as a family. Hell, Steven just recently found out he’s been a father for four years.
What is this news going to do to him…to us?
Sighing loudly, I rush to the bathroom, tracking snow through the freshly cleaned house. I’m so thankful that I’m alone to do this. Having an entourage would only be more stressful.
