Trying to give me a third option to this two-way street, I appreciate the thought.
“My dad would take it before I even got a chance, not to mention I’m sure the father will want a say.”
“Oh shit. Do you even know whose it would be?”
The laughter that bubbles up from my throat is harsh and loud. I sound like a maniac as I cackle out my delirium. Of course, I don’t know who the father is. I finally lose the fight against the tears after my laughter subsides.
“I’m a fucking episode of Maury.” I rub at my face trying to dry it off, but they come so fast I don’t have a chance.
“Take the test before you do all of that. There might not even be a point in getting this worked up.”
Grabbing the stick, I finally pee on it, ready to see the results. The time it takes for the little screen to give us an answer feels like the longest two minutes of my life. There is no audible sound. Both of us are holding our breaths while we wait.
When it lights up with the clear-as-day pregnant confirmation, we both scream. The scary movie wail seems fitting since my life is about to end.
I pick up the stick and throw it against the door. The little thud of it hitting the wood doesn’t feel satisfying enough.
“Fuck!” I yell.
“It could be a false positive.”
“Really, Farrah?” I stand up and clap my hands together like the sudden noise will stop time. I just need everything to pause so that I don’t have to face this right now.
“Look, you should see a doctor before you jump to any conclusions.”
“You just told me to take the test before I jumped to any conclusions. What next? You want me to wait for the baby to be born?” I know it’s not right to take this out on her, but she is the only one here to witness my downfall. “There is only one conclusion.”
I slide down the floor in front of her and let a sob out. It escapes through my crumbling sanity that was just holding the emotions back.
“I’m supposed to leave for the tour in a week. Even if I don’t keep it, do you think I should still go?”
I can feel her heart breaking right alongside mine with the exhale that leaves her body. She pulls me into her arms, and despite the awkwardness of being stuck between the tub and the cupboard, she holds me in just the right way.
“I’ll book an appointment for tomorrow, and we can see exactly what is going on. Even if we can’t get you out there in time, let’s get you back in a space where you can still do what you love.”
I flinch at that. Even if it’s no longer my heart’s desire, this pregnancy could be the end of my career. I might not ever make it back to the stage, even if the music starts to sing to me again.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” I say, trying to take my mind off that.
“I’m happy you’re letting me be.”
I pat her leg and sit up, wiping away the last of the tears. No more crying for me. I need to get my act together. No, what I need is a drink.
“I can’t even get drunk to deal with this.”
“Will chocolate do?”
“It will have to.”
We peel ourselves off the floor, our knees sore in a way that tells our age. No longer capable of dropping it low without some sort of ache, things might be worse off after the next seven months.
My leg is bouncing. Always moving when given the chance, I need an outlet to push all my pent-up energy into. This is my only solution as we sit in the waiting area of an obstetrician’s office.
“Do you think I should’ve told them?” Finding the leg to not be enough, I stand and start pacing in front of Farrah. She watches me go, her head moving from side to side as she follows my movements.
“Do you mean yourbaby daddies?”
I stop and glare at her, which just causes her to find more humor in it.
