Y'all know I don't have a title.

I didn’t know which on to get, there were so many choices. EPT, First Response, Early Detect, even store-brand pregnancy tests. I bought them all.

Each one is lined up on the bathroom counter. I sit on the edge of the tub and drink glass of water, after glass of water, though right now I’d prefer anything with liquor. But liquor’s the whole reason I’m in this mess. I’m pretty sure he’ll try to blame me for not remembering the condom. Since the very beginning he’s said, I don’t want kids. Being young and in love we agreed to leave the issue for later because I do want children. But I know there is no discussing. He’ll leave me. The four little sticks with one big thing to say. I just hope none of them use a smiley face. How can they presume it’s something to smile about? And if I’m not pregnant does a frowning face come up? Maybe it’ll show just two dots and a line.

If I am pregnant, I have options. I could always go through with it. Have that word I can’t even think right now. And if I go through with that I won’t even have to tell him. He won’t look at me the same if he knows I’m pregnant, even if we don’t end up keeping it. Do I pick the baby I don’t even know over the guy I’ve been in love with? Or maybe he needs to know that I am pregnant to consider having one. He could change his mind. All I have to do is tell him, sit him down and describe a beautiful picture of picking out baby names, painting the extra bedroom, tell him all the ways the baby will look like him.

But the baby will look like him. If he leaves and I keep the baby it’ll always be a constant reminder of him. So I can’t keep the baby. The test comes out positive, and I’ll have my answer.
I set each empty glass behind the tests on the counter and wait for the tiny sensation. My face stares back at me in the mirror. Not having a period makes me look older, tired. I keep looking this way and he’ll definitely leave me, regardless if I’m pregnant or not. It’s all on the if.
The sensation comes and I grab the First Response first.As the liquid hits the stick it becomes heavy. I feel like I can’t hold the weight of it. I want to drop it and flush it all away. For a second I am weirder out that I’m holding my own fluids. I set the stick back on the counter next to the clean ones.

As I wait for the timer to go off, I look at all the things we need to do to the bathroom. We’ve been gradually fixing up the house and we left the bathrooms for last. The wallpaper, yellow plaid, is chipping and many of the floor tiles are broken. Mold left unattended for too long in the shower left it almost unusable. And the pipes. The pipes creak and moan, making it seem like the house is never empty, like there is always some haunting spirit desperately trying to tell us something. We were better off starting from scratch and not even bothering to salvage anything from this old bathroom. I used to tell him it was classic. Now I see it’s just worn.

The timer tick, tick, ticks. Soon he’ll come home and ask me what I did today and even sooner I’ll know what I did today. Whether or not it’s a baby, something’s growing inside of me and there’s no stopping it now. Like the moan of the pipes, I have to get it out when he walks through that door. The timer rings hard enough to fall off the counter. I pick up the stick and all I can think is please, please, don’t show me your face.