But those sanitary products are staring at me, reminding me that we didn’t use a condom that second time round, he came inside me, and I haven’t had my period.
Dread works through me. I pull out my phone and double check my dates but my mental calculations are correct. I am a week and six days over.
“Fuck.”
What do I do? I was a virgin a month ago! Amonth! This can’t be happening to me. I grip my stomach as another wave of nausea batters me along with a hot flush. It’s food poisoning. It’s got to be food poisoning.
But I had to be sure.
I quickly shower and dress, throwing my still wet hair into a bun before I grab my keys and bolt out the door. There is no way I’m using the campus drug store to get a test, so I jump into my car and head into town, practically leaving it abandoned in the lot outside the store.
When I get to the aisle I need, I stand and I stare at the numerous different brands and types. Which one do I need to use? Some of these are super expensive too but did that make them better?
“You okay, sweetie?” My head jerks around to the sweet, feminine voice next to me.
I’m pretty sure I’m crying, and the way she softens and steps forward, just confirms it. She’s an older woman, maybe fifty if the greying in her hair is anything to go by, with fine lines around her eyes and laughter lines around her mouth. She looks like the type to be motherly, and her kindness right now is just tugging on my emotions. I sniffle loudly. I’m not even entirely sure when I started to cry, maybe back at the apartment? On the drive here?
I didn’t know but there was so much panic and sickness and dread turning over inside of me, I can barely hear myself think.
“Shh,” She gently pats my arm, “It’s okay. You need a test?”
I nod, the words lodged behind the lump in my throat. “Okay,” She nods reassuringly, “You just need a simple one, okay? It can be quite daunting looking at all these, can’t it?”
I nod again, mute.
But she just smiles patiently and selects two tests from the shelf, “One for now, and one for later,” She explains, “Just go wait over by the door, I’ll get these, okay?”
I dig into my purse for my wallet, grabbing a bunch of notes since I’ve clearly forgotten how to function, but she shoos me off and heads to the counter, so I do as I am told and wait by the door.
“My name is Diane,” She tells me when she returns, the tests hidden inside of a paper bag, “We’re going to go across the street to that coffee shop. Here’s my ID, take a picture of it, okay? Send it to your family.”
My brows knot together as my brain tries to keep up with what she is saying. It’s after a few long seconds of brain lag and some awkward staring, that I realize she’s doing it to make me feel safe with her. She only wants to help. And right now, this kindness from a stranger is helping tremendously. With a shake to my hands, I dig out my phone and snap a picture of the ID, sending it over to Imogen with a quick text to say I’ll explain later.
Not a moment later, my phone is buzzing with an incoming call but right now, I can’t deal with my sister. I can barely handle myself.
Diane walks quietly by my side, the rustle of the paperback sounding like a death toll though I know it’s not that bad.
This could all be a big deal for nothing. I might just be late and that’s it.
I suck in calming breaths, trying to get a handle on myself as we head into the coffee shop and get in line. “Tea?” She asks, “It calms the nerves.”
“Yes, please,” I whisper, “Thank you.”
“Go get a table, sweetie. I’ll bring it over.”
I’m still shaking when I find a seat and stare at my interlocked fingers. I haven’t even given her my name, or even spoken more than a few words to her and yet she’s treating me like I’m her own daughter. Perhaps she does have her own children, perhaps she’s had to do this before.
It would make sense. And I didn’t know how to thank her for this.
“Here we go,” She slides a pot of tea my way and the sweetness of it hits me in the face. It’s some type of fruit tea and smells divine. I pour a cup as she takes the chair opposite me.
“I’m Vanessa,” I tell her when the cup is poured.
She smiles, “I have a daughter,” She explains, confirming my theory, “If you’re wondering why I helped you back there. We did this too and you looked like you needed a friend.”
“I did,” I nod, feeling the fresh sting of more tears, “I don’t know if I am.”
“That’s why we have the tests, sweetie.” She says gently, “So you can find out.”
