Sybil Hollis rummaged through her closet, searching for an outfit to wear. Her best friend Liz wanted their group to go out tonight and celebrate her thirtieth birthday, but all Sybil wanted to do was curl up in bed and fall asleep.
How’s that for excitement? She hadn’t stayed home on a Friday night in months. She enjoyed the night life. Didn’t most single women in their twenties? In two years, she’d have her turn at hitting thirty and then she’d stay home more, maybe think about finding a serious boyfriend and possibly settling down. As if I know anything about that.
She lifted a hanger and looked at the off-the-shoulder shimmery gray top. Matched with her new black skirt that clung tightly to her and showed off her toned legs, the outfit would be a hit. At five-foot-three-inches tall, she hadn’t inherited her mother’s height but had gotten her killer legs, and she’d be sure to attract attention with that outfit. A smile curled her lips, and the idea rejuvenated her.
A niggling thought persisted, erasing her smile as quickly as it had appeared. For weeks, she’d questioned whether she actually liked her status quo or if she continued on because that’s all she knew. She didn’t take life seriously—no doubt about that—a lesson she’d learned from her mom.
Entrapments were a headache, responsibilities a bore. Relationships—who needed them?
Sybil found the black skirt on the lower closet rod and then dropped the clothes on her bed. “I’m not exactly like Mom. At least I’ve held down a job.”
Silence answered her. True, she’d had the same job for five years, but that’s because she enjoyed a certain amount of stability. Unlike her mother, she didn’t relish changing apartments every few months before eviction proceedings could begin, and she refused to use a man for financial gain. Just because she liked male attention didn’t mean she’d take advantage of it. Not in a pay-the-bills kind of way, at least. Having free drinks bought for her because of her appearance was a far cry from giving her body to a man so he’d buy her groceries for the week.
Justify it all you want.
She wrinkled her nose. Why couldn’t she go back to the days she didn’t question her lifestyle? Back to when she didn’t realize how badly her childhood had messed her up and shaped her early adulthood? Until several weeks ago, she’d considered herself well-adjusted. She had a job, a group of friends—albeit, those relationships only went surface deep—and was happy.
From the moment she saw them, she started to question her life. She and Shellie had gone for half-price appetizers and drinks late on Wednesday evening. A large coed group filled the corner booth of the restaurant. They’d all laughed and had a great time. Joy radiated from their faces. All drank water, tea, or soda. Not a one had a beer or mixed drink. Yet they had a blast, seeming to genuinely enjoy each other’s company. And when their food came, they all bowed their heads and prayed.
She’d never seen anything like it and couldn’t stop watching them until Shellie asked her what she was staring at. Taking a risk at deeper conversation than their norm, she’d told Shellie what she’d observed. Her friend had laughed at her, told her she was reading too much into it and then proceeded to order a second daiquiri.
On the way out, Sybil had noticed several from the group wore similar shirts with the name of a church on them. What would church be like? She’d never stepped foot in one. Mom didn’t believe in organized religion and had branded all church people judgmental hypocrites.
She’d never cared enough to find out if it was true. The entire concept of church and religion was foreign to her, and she’d never thought she was missing out on anything.
Until she’d seen that group. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why the brief encounter—if it could be called that—had unsettled her. Was it because she saw peace in their faces? Realness in their expressions?
Casting her thoughts aside, she undressed from her work clothes. The memory made her uncomfortable in ways she couldn’t explain, so she’d decided the best way to deal with it was to not think about it.
She pulled the blouse over her head then stepped into her skirt. The zipper wouldn’t close, and she sucked in her stomach to make it up that final inch. She exhaled when she finally fastened it all the way and vowed to lay off the caramel frappes, no matter how good they were.
Typically, she only had the treat occasionally, but she’d been so tired lately she’d grabbed one for breakfast on her way to work every day this week. She could have had straight coffee instead, but July’s heat and humidity were especially brutal this year, and the cool drink offered refreshment with the much-needed caffeine. Too bad her waistline didn’t recognize those benefits.
Tomorrow she’d get to the gym and work off the extra calories from the week. She examined her reflection in the mirror, relieved to see the extra weight didn’t show on her face at all. Her round face didn’t allow for extra pounds, or even ounces, without appearing bloated.
She removed the barrette from her hair and ran a brush through the wavy, chestnut locks. With her energy level already low, she decided not to straighten her hair tonight. She set the brush down to cover a yawn. Maybe she should cancel for the night, but Liz would never forgive her for missing her thirtieth birthday celebration.
One slow action at a time, she continued getting ready. She applied her makeup, giving her eyes a dramatic, smoky appearance then finished it with a thick stroke of black eyeliner. Once she was completely ready to go, she checked herself in the mirror and decided she looked much better than she felt. She smiled and gave herself a pep talk until she was convinced that going out tonight presented a better option than staying home.
Another sigh escaped her after the short walk to her car. As she settled into her seat, she adjusted the radio to a top-forty station. Anything to inject energy into her weary body, which she blamed on her job. She worked in payroll for the school system—a position that normally had her behind a desk. However, her office was being moved to a different location within the building, and she’d spent a large portion of her week transferring all her items from one office to the other. It didn’t help that the elevator had been broken for half the week.
Although she was fairly certain that was the root cause of her exhaustion, if the tiredness persisted after the weekend, she’d make an appointment with her doctor. A few years ago she’d had a similar experience, and it turned out her iron was low. A change of diet and a few weeks of iron supplements later, she was as good as new.
Traffic flowed heavy but steady as she crossed town to Liz’s house off Piney Green. When she pulled up to the driveway, she only saw Rysa’s car. She and Tammy probably carpooled since they lived in the same apartment complex. She parked behind Rysa, and peeked in the garage at Liz’s Cherokee on her way to the front door.
Rysa answered the door. “Come on in. Liz is still getting ready, and we’re waiting for
“Did Tammy come with you?” she asked as she slid into the house.
Rysa nodded. “She’s on the deck on the phone with Todd.”
“I thought they broke up?”
“They might get back together.” Rysa rolled her eyes. “That’s all I heard about on the way over.”
“He’s a cheating jerk. I hope she doesn’t take him back.”
“I agree.” Rysa winked. “Most men are, though, which is why I prefer to stay unattached.”
Sybil laughed and checked her hair in the foyer mirror. “You and me both.”
She made light of it, but she wouldn’t even know what to do in a relationship. In her experience, from her mom and her own attempts at relationships in years past, men didn’t stay. They took what they could, then left without a backward glance. Why should she subject herself to that?
Rysa nudged her. “Where’d that frown come from? None of that allowed.”
“Just a fleeting thought.” She put a smile back on her face. “Do you like this shade of lipstick? It’s the one I ordered from Jayla’s party last month.”
“I love it.”
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure about a shade so vivid as pomegranate, but I was surprised how much I like it.”
“Girl, you’re going to turn heads tonight.” Rysa linked arms with her. “I’m so jelly of your legs. I run six miles a day, minimum and can’t get mine that toned.”
“Genetics.” Sybil smirked. “The one good quality Mom passed on to me.”
Liz glided down the steps, dressed in an outfit too revealing, even for Sybil’s taste. The skimpy red dress left nothing to the imagination. Liz winked and waved a hand over the length of her body. “You only turn thirty once, right?”
“New perfume?” The heady aroma hit Sybil the wrong way.
“A present from my mom, sent straight from Paris. She said it’s the scent of the season.”
Musky amber further invaded Sybil’s nostrils, creating a wave of nausea. Her stomach rolled, and she ran to the half bathroom in the hall. She’d barely closed the door and lifted the toilet lid before her stomach emptied in a violent expulsion.
What’s wrong with me? Never in her life had a perfume caused a reaction like that. She owned a similar scent and loved it.
A knock rattled the door, followed by Rysa’s voice. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” She stood upright on weak legs and used a tissue to wipe her mouth.
The door opened, and Rysa slid in. “What’s going on? Your face turned as gray as your shirt.”
Sybil shrugged. “I must be coming down with something. I’ve been tired all week, but thought it was from moving into a new office.”
Liz popped her head in the bathroom, a scowl on her face. “Are you ready to go? Everyone else is here now.”
Gee, thanks for the concern.
“We’ll be right out.” Rysa closed the door, shutting Liz out. “I’m sorry. Liz has many great qualities, but compassion isn’t one of them.”
“It’s all right.” She wouldn’t admit how deep Liz’s lack of care hurt, but why should she expect differently? Liz was a good friend, but had a selfish streak to the sun and back. Over the years, Sybil had learned to accept her flaws. After all, no one was perfect.
“No, it’s not.” Rysa darted a glance to the door then settled her gaze on Sybil. “We need to get out before she goes into meltdown mode, but real quick, is there any chance you could be pregnant?”
She shook her head with surprise and vehement denial. “What? No. Why would you think that?”
“Tiredness, random vomiting. And I haven’t seen you eat pizza lately, which is your go-to comfort food during certain days of the month. My sister had all the same symptoms.”
“Oh no.” Sybil’s legs gave out, and she sank to the toilet as she realized Rysa could be correct. “The night before the tornado.”
Rysa wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Why don’t you go home and rest. Take a test, so you’ll know one way or another.”
“Liz would never forgive me.”
“She’ll get over it. Besides, she’d be more annoyed if you got sick while we were out and we had to leave early.”
Sybil rolled her eyes. “Sad, but true.”
“I’ve got your back if she starts anything.” An understanding smile graced Rysa’s face.
“Thanks. I think I will go home.” Now that the possibility had been planted, she had to know.
She excused herself, ignoring the glare from Liz. Some friend. Rysa’s actions had proved her a better friend than Liz ever had been, causing Sybil to question her choices. Was her friendship with Liz another defense mechanism to keep distance from people?
The possibility of a pregnancy pushed aside any other thoughts and deliberations. Weighed down with anxiety, her body stiffened. Mechanical movements got her to her car and then to the pharmacy.
From the safety of her car, she stared at the poster-sized ads on the store windows. The enlarged photos of diapers and canisters of formula celebrating the lowest prices of the season on baby items taunted her.
A drop of rain landed on her windshield, then another.
“What in the world?” She peered out her windshield at the blends of violet and vermilion clouds hovering among the remnants of the day’s blue sky. “Where is it coming from?”
The rain continued, falling at a steady pace now. She looked out her window and saw a single rain cloud above her car. “Of course.”
She waited out the shower and five minutes later, grabbed her purse and ran inside. Overwhelmed, she stood by the front register and traveled her gaze from one side of the store to another.
An employee approached her. “Can I help you find something?”
“No, thank you.” Sybil felt her cheeks flush. She’d find it on her own—no need to advertise her potential predicament.
She took her best guess at which aisle stocked the pregnancy tests and found them on her second stop. Who knew so many choices existed? Her heart thumped against her chest as she reached for a two-pack of one that spelled out the results. Regardless of the first results, she’d want a second test for confirmation.
On her way to check out, she grabbed a pack of toilet paper, a bag of candy, a new bottle of shampoo, and several Independence Day items on clearance. Not that she needed any of it, but she didn’t want the pregnancy test to stand out. The more items she could bury it under, the better.
She overestimated how much she could carry and juggled the items in her arms. When she came to the register, something slipped from the bottom of the pile, landing on the counter. She cringed when she realized the test has escaped her grip. What she’d desperately tried to hide was now on display for all to see.
Okay, so only the cashier in front of her saw it, but that was one person too many. She hurried to drop the other items on top of the box and refused the make eye contact with the store associate. After she paid, she mumbled, “Have a good day,” snatched her bags from the counter and hurried back to her car.
The ride home seemed to take forever, although she made it to her house in record time, not hitting any traffic or red lights. She pulled up to her mailbox which she’d forgotten to check earlier. Anything to prolong finding out the results. She dragged her feet as she walked to her front door. In a few minutes, her life might change forever.
She wasn’t ready to know.
But she had to.