Like a Sister(20)

I closed the door when I got in there and mentally replayed the convo, hoping to pick up on any shade. Erin had been talking about Zarah, but had she also been talking about me? No one could be that oblivious.

I slid down the bathroom door and willed my mind to go blank. I took in the room. It was gigantic, the tub alone bigger than the average male ego. A separate shower felt like it was in a different wing. A stainless-steel pink water bottle perched on the side of the tub right next to me. The counter was big and littered with Desiree’s makeup. Lipstick. Blush. Foundation.

I was contemplating melodramatically banging my head against the wall when I accidentally knocked over the water bottle. It hit the ground, then rolled. Something clanged inside.

I wanted to kick myself for not recognizing the bottle immediately. She’d had it exactly three years, a birthday gift from me. It’d cost thirty-five dollars, pricey to hold something essentially free, but it was one of those fancy-schmancy ones that claimed to keep your cold water cold and your coffee hot for eons. It was pink and glittery and the perfect size to fit in Desiree’s Givenchy satchel.

And I knew it had been worth it once Desiree started hauling that thing everywhere. Her place. My place. Everywhere in between. If she was there, so was that water bottle. It was only later I realized why. She had needed someplace to store her drugs.

Maybe some things hadn’t changed after all.

As if forming a sign, the water bottle stopped right at my feet. I lightly kicked it. Another clang. Something was definitely inside. But what? Cocaine didn’t sound like that. Neither did weed or pills. It was something bigger.

Like a needle.

Shitnuts.

I wanted to leave immediately, walk out the bathroom door, then the hotel-suite door, then the elevator door, then outside. To keep going until I got to my door, even if it was miles away. But I knew that bottle would follow me, haunt me for the rest of my life. So I stayed, picking it up gently as if that would make whatever was inside disappear. And once again, I stated my mantra.

No coke.

I twisted the cap.

No X.

I took it off.

No heroin.

I tipped the bottle.

No needles.

A flash of white jetted its way to freedom. Whatever it was had been wrapped in a torn piece of purple paper. As soon as it hit the tiled floor it shot out from its layer of protection.

I peered down. It was a positive pregnancy test.





Six



Everything okay?”

It wasn’t, but still. I answered Erin through the closed bathroom door. “Yep. I’ll be right out.”

I sat on the toilet, gripping the test in my hand as if I’d just taken it myself. It said PREGNANT in bold blue letters. Had to give them credit for being straight to the point. No old-school plus or minus. No one or two lines. No presumptuous smiley face. It said what it said, and you could take the result how you wanted.

Clearblue even took it upon itself to estimate how many weeks. My sister had been at four. The police hadn’t mentioned anything about a pregnancy. I sure as hell didn’t know enough to know if that was something they could tell that quickly.

I’d had my last pregnancy scare about a month or so before Desiree and I stopped speaking. The result of my last friends-with-benefits situation. A guy I didn’t want to spend the night with, much less the rest of my life. But he had a dick bigger than his IQ, and he always answered the phone on those rare occasions when I was in the mood for company.

I’ve never been big on relationships. My mother didn’t date much after Mel left. The only time I saw a healthy relationship up close and personal was Aunt E and Gram. And possible baby daddy was no Aunt E. Desiree was the first person I called. She showed up at my apartment in Jersey City within an hour and marched me straight to the supermarket. The morning-after pills were in aisle 9A.

I peered at the price tag. “Jeezus, forty-seven bucks.”

“Trojan Ultra Thins are only thirteen dollars. Too late now,” she said.

I turned to her. “The condom broke. I told you that.”

“And I told you that you need to be on birth control.”

“And I told you I don’t have enough sex to warrant it.”

She gave me her best infomercial voice. “All it takes is one time.”

“I’m gonna smack you.”

She pulled out a credit card. “Then who’s gonna pay for your emergency contraceptive?”

“Like that bill doesn’t go straight to your father.”

“Of course. I’m sure not paying for your irresponsibility.”

I ignored that to stare at the shelf. It figured there’d be more than one choice. “Which one should I take?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Desiree fingered the plastic. “As long as you take it within five days, you’ll be fine. Of course, the longer you wait, the less effective it is. If you’re super nervous, you can try Ella. But that requires a prescription.” She noticed me staring. “What?”

“Why do you know all this?”

She stared at me for a beat. “WebMD.”

I laughed. “I figured maybe you’d taken one.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Right. Because you use birth control.”

“And condoms. And I still make him pull out. I figure if his little swimmers can get past all that, it’s meant to be. I’m keeping it. What?”