Regretting You(3)

“It hasn’t been six weeks. It’s only been four,” I say.

“Six,” he corrects. “It’s July eleventh.”

Six?

I try to keep the sudden onslaught of tension in every single muscle in my body from being visible to Chris, but I can’t help but have a reaction to what he just said. Every part of me stiffens.

It hasn’t been six weeks. Has it?

If it’s been six weeks . . . that means I’m two weeks late for my period.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

The trunk to Jonah’s car pops open. Chris and I both spin around, just as Jonah slams the trunk shut and walks to the driver’s-side door. When he gets in the car, he has a smug smile on his face.

“Motherfucker,” Chris mutters, shaking his head. “She didn’t even card you?”

Jonah puts the car in drive and begins to pull out. “It’s all in the confidence, my friend.”

I watch as Jonah reaches across the seat and takes Jenny’s hand.

I look out the window, my stomach in knots, my palms sweating, my heart pounding, my fingers quietly counting the days since my last period. I haven’t given it any thought at all. I know it was graduation because Chris was bummed we couldn’t have sex. But I’ve just been expecting to get it any day now, thinking it’s only been a month since they graduated. The four of us have been so busy doing a ton of nothing during summer break that I haven’t even thought about it.

Twelve days. I’m twelve days late.



It’s all I’ve thought about all night while at this graduation party. I want to borrow Jonah’s car keys, drive to a twenty-four-hour pharmacy, and buy a pregnancy test, but that would only make him ask questions. And Jenny and Chris would notice my absence. Instead, I have to spend the entire evening surrounded by music so loud I can feel it cracking in my bones. There are sweaty bodies in every part of this house, so there’s nowhere I can escape to. I’m too scared to drink now, because if I am pregnant, I have no idea what that could do. I’ve never given pregnancy much thought, so I don’t know exactly how much alcohol can harm a fetus. I won’t even take that chance.

I can’t believe this.

“Morgan!” Chris yells from across the room. He’s standing on a table. Another guy is standing on a table next to him. They’re playing a game where they balance on one leg and take turns downing shots until one of them falls. It’s Chris’s favorite drinking game and my least favorite time to be around him, but he’s waving me over. Before I make it across the room, the guy on the other table falls, and Chris raises a victorious fist in the air. Then he jumps down just as I reach him. He wraps an arm around me, pulling me to him.

“You’re being boring,” he says. He brings his cup to my mouth. “Drink. Be merry.”

I push the cup away. “I’m driving us all home tonight. I don’t want to drink.”

“No, Jonah is driving tonight. You’re good.” Chris tries again to give me another drink, but I push it away again.

“Jonah wanted to drink, so I told him I’d drive,” I lie.

Chris looks around, spotting someone nearby. I follow his gaze to see Jonah sitting on the couch next to Jenny, whose legs are draped across his lap. “You’re DD tonight, right?”

Jonah glances at me before answering Chris. It’s a two-second silent conversation, but Jonah can see in my pleading expression that I need him to tell Chris he’s not.

Jonah tilts his head a little in curiosity but then looks at Chris. “Nope. I’m getting hammered.”

Chris slumps his shoulders and looks back at me. “Fine. I guess I’ll have to have fun all alone.”

I’m trying not to be insulted by his words, but it’s hard not to be. “Are you saying I’m not any fun when I’m sober?”

“You are fun, but drunk Morgan is my favorite Morgan.”

Wow. That kinda makes me sad. But he’s drunk, so I’ll excuse his insults right now, even if it’s just to avoid an argument. I’m not in the mood. I’ve got more important things on my mind.

I pat Chris’s chest with both hands. “Well, drunk Morgan won’t be here tonight, so go find people you can have fun with.”

Right when I say that, someone grabs Chris’s arm and pulls him back to the tables. “Rematch!” the guy says.

With that, my level of sobriety is no longer Chris’s concern, so I take that as an opportunity to escape from him, this noise, these people. I walk out the back door and am met with a quieter version of the party and a blast of fresh air. There’s an empty chair next to the pool, and even though there’s a couple in the water I’m almost certain are doing things that should be deemed unsanitary in a swimming pool, it’s somehow less of a nuisance than being inside that house. I position my chair so that I can’t see them, and I lean back and close my eyes. I spend the next few minutes trying not to obsess over any symptom I may or may not have had this past month.

I don’t even have time to start thinking about what all of this might mean for my future when I hear a chair being dragged across the concrete behind me. I don’t even want to open my eyes and see who it is. I can’t take Chris and all his drunkenness right now. I can’t even take Jenny and her combination of wine coolers, weed, and being sixteen.