I can't.
Bianca walks in and smiles, but it falters a little when she sees my face. “Erica? Are you okay? You look pale.”
I open my mouth to say something. Anything. Fine. Just tired.
Instead, I stand up so fast my chair squeaks. “I have to use the restroom.”
I don’t wait for a response. I just turn and walk away, toward the sign with the stick figure in a dress, my legs feeling shaky and disconnected from my body.
The restroom is empty, which I’m grateful for.
I lock myself in the last stall, my back pressed against the cool metal door, and slide down to sit on the floor. The tiles are cold against my bare legs, and I hug my knees to my chest, trying to breathe.
Pregnant.
The word echoes in my head, loud and accusatory.
How could I be so stupid? How could I be so careless?
I bury my face in my knees, the fabric of my jeans rough against my skin.
What am I going to do?
What if I am?
What will Nico say? What will he do?
The thought is so terrifying it makes me feel sick. I don’t know the answer. I can’t predict him, not on this. This isn’t business. This isn’t a threat. This is… everything.
I heard the bathroom door open and close. I freeze, holding my breath.
“Erica?” Bianca’s voice, soft and hesitant, calls out. “Are you in here?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could disappear.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, and my voice is hoarse.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her footsteps getting closer until she stops right outside my stall.
I want to lie. I want to say I’m fine. But I can’t get the word out.
So I just shake my head, even though she can’t see me.
There’s a pause, then I hear the rustle of her coat as she sinks down to the floor outside the door.
“Can I come in?” she asks gently.
I unlock the door.
She pushes it open and finds me huddled on the floor. She doesn’t ask any questions. She just sits down on the tile floor opposite me, tucks her knees under her chin, and waits.
I look at her, at her kind face and her worried eyes, and the dam breaks.
A sob rips out of me, raw and ugly.
Bianca moves closer, and then her arms are around me, pulling me into a hug. She doesn’t say anything. She just holds me while I cry, her hand rubbing slow circles on my back. She smells like lavender and something warm, like home.
I cry until I can’t anymore, until my sobs turn into hiccups and my head is pounding.
