Against the Plan

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 I know I can’t wait any longer. I mean, if I am pregnant, it’s just a matter of time before my stomach starts to get big. But that was just one pregnancy test, right? It could be wrong. That little plus sign I saw could be a negative on a couple of other tests.

It doesn’t have to be true. I don’t have to be pregnant.

I was scared to go out and buy another pregnancy test, though. What if ten other tests say that I’m positive? What will I do then; still be in denial? I’d be lying to myself! But I can’t just sit around and wait for a baby bump to come. T will be upset that I didn’t warn him.

A thousand thoughts run through my mind as I sit on the windowsill in the master bedroom, staring down at the cars passing by on the highway—will it be a boy or a girl? What will I name it? Should I have an abortion? Will Mama help me take care of it?

I push those thoughts aside. Don’t have thoughts like that until you’re sure that you’re pregnant, I say quietly. Just then, T comes into the room, sees me, and furrows his eyebrows.

“You look worried.” I tell him.

“I am, ‘cause you look worried.” He says. T sits down next to me on the windowsill. I’m definitely not telling him that the pregnancy test showed positive. Not until I try a couple more.

“So what’s wrong?” T asks. I just shrug.

“I just dozed off while you were gone, and I had a bad dream. That’s all.” I say. Then I look up and smile at him. “But I’m good now.” I lean in and kiss him, and for a moment I feel  a little better.

“Alright, cool.” T says. “I’m going downstairs. You gonna be alright up here?” He asks. I nod.

“I’m about to head out anyway. I’ll be cool.” I say.

And he goes downstairs, and I get dressed, ready to—possibly—change my life forever.

It’s hard to find pregnancy tests in Jacksonville.

I mean, I’ve checked about a hundred stores already! The stores are so big; the pregnancy section could be anywhere. But I’m too shy to ask a store worker—if I ask someone, they’ll go to the press and tell them that Tyga’s girlfriend came to their store asking for pregnancy tests. Next thing you know, it’d be all over the news that I might be pregnant.

And that is certainly not what I want.

I’m about to give up and start walking back toward home, when I see a store with a sandy orange awning that says: “FOOD AND JUNK”. I’d never go into this store (the inside looks dark, the area is quiet, it says ‘food’, and there’s an old man touching himself sitting on the store’s porch) if it weren’t for a stack of purple neon boxes I saw inside.

The boxes shone through the darkness of the store. They looked familiar—they were the same ones that the ‘anonymous’ person sent me. I don’t know why, but I finally persuade myself to go into the store.

I can barely see. It smells musty, and it doesn’t look like anyone’s inside. Then suddenly, as I lean on a wall, a light flickers on. I accidentally flipped on a light switch. I realize there’s an old lady sitting in a rocking chair in front of me. I let out a tiny scream, and then I wait for my heart to stop beating so fast.

“Oh, relax. What’re you here for, food and junk?” When the woman asks this, she pats her knees and starts making a hoarse sound, probably meant to be a laugh.

“Um, no, actually.” I say. “I’m here for these.” I point to the pregnancy tests.

“Oh! Well, we have those and three other brands! A lot of young girls like you get pregnant out here, so we have to have these available for them.” The woman says. She has a lot of wrinkles and her eyes are so wrinkly that they’re almost closed shut.

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