She was breathing heavily as she headed for her car and somehow made it home. Mr. and Mrs. Mehta had taken a few days off to take their children to the beach, so Maya had some time off, too. Her aunt and uncle and cousin were all at work. She would have the house to herself. She locked the door to the bathroom anyway.
Fingers shaking, she fumbled, but managed to open the first test. Maya inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of soap and bleach mixed with the floral scent of cherry-blossom air freshener, forcing herself to calm down and read the instructions.
She read them three times to be sure she got it right. She peed on the stick, set it on the counter and pulled out another test. She repeated the process five times. She wasn’t sure why she chose five—it just seemed like a good number and it ruled out the possibility of a tie.
She paced the small bathroom, intermittently biting her nails and running her fingers through her hair until time was up for the last test. Her stomach fluttering dangerously, she took a step closer to the counter. She stopped. She couldn’t look. This wasn’t happening. But she knew it was.
With new resolve, or maybe acceptance—it didn’t matter—she walked quickly to the counter for confirmation of the answer she already knew. Five pregnancy tests each told her she was having Sam’s baby.
Her head spun and she held the counter to keep from falling. What little she had eaten that day threatened to come up, so she grabbed her belly and slowly slid down the wall to the bathroom floor as her tears fell.
Her fingers trembled as she ran a hand through her hair again, the coldness of the tile seeping through the worn mat and causing her to shiver. What was she going to do? How would she tell her mother, her family? Having sex before marriage was bad enough. But getting pregnant before marriage was advertising to the whole world your complete lack of morality and what an awful job your parents had done in raising you. Her mother had had it hard as a single mom, but society had sympathy for her. After all, her husband (the dog!) had left her alone with a child. Her stomach churned. There would be no such sympathy for her. The polite ones would avert their eyes and whisper behind her back. The others would stare and actively shun her. Not to mention she had plans for her life. Things she wanted to do. A child didn’t factor in, not now. She leaned her head onto her knees and cried.
She had to tell Sam. Unbidden, the look on his face when Bridget had told him she thought she was pregnant popped into her mind. He had been kind, concerned. She thought of his gentleness. The sobs subsided; she took a few calming breaths and concentrated on the warmth in his eyes and how his smile lit up her heart.
Sam loved her. He would stand by her. This thought in mind, she peeled herself off the bathroom floor. Of course he would. A small voice that sounded like her mother poked at her, reminding her that men were highly unreliable. She ignored it. She caught her bleak reflection in the mirror. Puffy, red-rimmed eyes, her brown skin ashen, her hair a rat’s nest.
Maya turned on the water and washed up. She would go tell Sam right now. As she slowly brushed her hair and contemplated the conversation, the phone rang. She dropped the brush and left the bathroom to answer it. It was her mother.
Maya gathered herself together. “Hey, Mum.”
“Maya, how are you?” She continued without waiting for an answer. “Mrs. Chen from across the street was just telling me how much she misses your brownies, so I had to call.” Her pride and happiness bubbled through the phone and Maya’s vision blurred, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to breathe. Her mother would be so disappointed.
“I know you’ll be home in a week, but everyone has missed you so!”
It took everything Maya had to keep her tears back. She couldn’t even manage a “Mmm-hmm.”
“Maya? Is everything all right?” Her mother’s voice was filled with concern. “Maya? Maya? Maya, say something.”
Maya hung up the phone and dissolved into fresh tears. Her mother would never understand. She had to see Sam. It was 11:00 a.m. He was at one of his many jobs and wouldn’t be free until evening. They had made plans to meet at the park. She’d have to wait until then. She walked down to the kitchen and did what came naturally: she started to bake.
Before she knew it, four hours had passed, and as Maya was just starting a round of chocolate chip cookies, she heard the front door open, and suddenly her mother was standing in the kitchen.
“Maya?” She continued their conversation from the morning as if four hours and two hundred twenty-five miles had not passed.
“Mum.” Maya forced a smile onto her face, but knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. This was her mother. “What are you doing here?”
“You tell me.” Her mother’s gaze was fierce. She had come for answers. “I called you back many times, but you did not pick up. What has happened?”
“Nothing, Mum. Stop being so dramatic.” Maya rolled her eyes for effect, knowing it was futile.
Her mother put down her purse and glanced around the kitchen. Brownies, muffins and now cookies covered the countertop. She pursed her lips and studied her daughter. Without a word, she walked upstairs. Maya heard her mother enter the bathroom, and the blood drained from her head.No, no, no!In her distraction, she hadn’t gotten rid of any of the evidence. She tried to force her feet to move, or call out to her mother, but she was frozen with fear. The silence as her mother came back down was the loudest Maya had ever experienced.
“You didn’t stop seeing that boy, did you?” The accusation was clear.
Maya remained silent. The answer was obvious.
“I warned you. I told you no good would come of it.” Her mother’s voice was calm and hard. Maya wished she would yell.
“Have you told him?”
Maya swallowed tears and shook her head.
“Fine. Get yourself together. We’ll talk elsewhere. I don’t need my brother coming home in the middle of this.”
Maya nodded and twenty minutes later they were seated at the back of a coffee shop, staring into coffees that were getting cold.
“So, Maya, I suppose you were right. This boy was your mistake.” Her mother’s voice was firm and unforgiving. “How did you let this happen?”
