Tiger (Brian&Leah,2)

52. The Sandwich

"I had my period last month," I say. 

"Are you sure? We're usually in sync, but I don't remember you asking me for tampons."

I force my brain to think. I'm sure I had it, but it was light and lasted only a day. I blamed it on the change of climate after the vacation.

The vacation. The New Year's Eve. The pool. The night of sex without protection. Not once, and not twice. We made love at least five times, drunk on tequila and stupid. Stupid and reckless. 

Tears spring to my eyes. I try to hold them at bay and count, using my trembling fingers to know how many weeks have passed. 

Almost eight. Our vacation was almost eight weeks ago.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

A sob leaves my throat, followed by one more—the dam breaks.

Someone knocks on the door.

"A moment," Tara yells and turns to me. "Don't panic, okay? Let's stop by the pharmacy and go to my place. Bast isn't home. You need to do a test to be sure. Maybe it's nothing. You've been worried about the internship. It could be the nerves."

She's a great friend, but we both know Tara is lying for my sake. I've been worried but also tired to the point of falling asleep at eight p.m.
I can't focus for shit and barely eat.

"Okay." I nod, blowing out a shaky breath.

We grab our things. Tara pays the check, and we exit the cafe. 

"Wait for me in my car," she says. "I'll get the tests."

"I can do it."

"I don't mind. Try to calm down; I'll be back."

Tara dashes to the pharmacy across the street.

When she unlocks the driver's door and slides into her seat five minutes later, a bag is in her hands. 

"I got three," she says. "Of different brands, and one tells you the weeks."

"Thanks."

Her warm hand squeezed my knee. "It'll be alright; you'll see."

***

It takes me fifteen minutes to pee at Tara's. I leave the tests on the sink and go to sit on the couch by her side.

"Is Brian home?" Tara asks.

"He'll be soon. If they're positive, I'll have to tell him."

"Do you want to look now? I think they're ready."

I don't want to cause once I do, it'll become real and tangible, but I drag my feet to the bathroom and pick up the first test.

It says the same thing as the rest of them.

I'm pregnant. 

***

For the first time, I'm scared of going home. 

I sometimes daydreamed, imagining our future. I pictured our graduation ceremony and our wedding. In my fantasies, we decided to start a family and made love, knowing we might create a little person together on that special night full of passion. 

As I tiptoe into the apartment like a thief, there are no dreams, only fear — the fear of Brian's reaction because I know it's not what he wants. 

We talked about marriage as something abstract that'd happen years from now. We never discussed having kids. I don't even know if Brian wants to have them.