“Alex! Good to see you! How are you doing, girl?”
“Hey, Mel,” I said quietly, cringing that I would bump into a neighbor now. I was in no mood for chitchat.
“You feeling okay?”
“Sure. Why?”
Mel grinned. “Well, you’re walking into a drugstore for one thing, and you don’t look like your normal perky self for the other.”
I smiled at the man. He was married, and old enough to be my father, but he was always willing to come fix a leaky faucet or kill a big ugly spider. I liked him. “Just feeling a bit under the weather,” I lied.
“That’s too bad. Let us know if you need any help. I’ll have Kim rustle up some chicken soup if you want.”
Mel and Kim were good people. “No, no. That’s okay. I’m not that kind of sick.” I grinned as he flushed.
“Oh. Yes, well…” he muttered as he tried to extract himself from his predicament.
I giggled at his discomfort. “Anything else you want to know?” I teased.
“No!” he barked then smiled. ”I think I know more than I want to already. I have to go. Hope you get to feeling better.”
“Thanks, Mel,” I said as we began to part. “I’ll be fine in a few days.”
I wandered about the store a moment, looking to see if I knew anyone else. There were a few other patrons in the store with me but none that I recognized. I finally coasted to a stop in the pregnancy test aisle. I shouldn’t have to be here, looking at the pink and blue boxes. I can’t take the pill – it makes me crazy – but I have been careful. Cain was one hell of a lay, but no amount of sex was worth this, and I made sure he was protected. I even socked his willie myself as part of the warm up and to make sure it was done. It should be impossible that I’m pregnant, but I’m over a week late, and Union Pacific could run their railroad on the timing of my period.
I stood for a long time reading boxes. There were too many choices! I finally picked the one with the most interesting box that claimed to be the most accurate test available, just like all the others.
“You want a bag?” the woman ringing me out asked.
“Please,” I said, unable to meet her eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was to bump into someone else I knew with that box in my hand.
I took my purchase and scurried out to my little red convertible and tossed the bag into the passenger seat before I even opened the door. I flopped into the car, started it, and quickly backed out before I zipped through the parking lot and out onto the road. Now that I had the test, I was anxious to get home, find out I’m not pregnant, and stop worrying.
***
“Damnit,” I muttered as I sat on my bed and read the instructions from the kit. Why can’t anything be easy? Not only did I have to pee on the strip, it was strongly suggested that I wait until morning. Something to do with my Hcg levels, whatever the hell that was. I read the instructions again, then a third time. I was new to this and I wanted to do it right the first time.
After the third reading I flopped backwards onto my bed, arms spread out at my sides as if I was on a crucifix. I couldn’t be pregnant! Cain and I had burned through three condoms. Twice I had put them on him myself and once I had watched him do it. I… could… not… be… pregnant! There was no way! But then I had a rush of fear. Yes, I had seen him sheath his snake, but I hadn’t seen him remove them. Could there have been an… equipment failure?
I thought it over. We had gotten pretty wild there for a while. Despite my concerns, I couldn’t help but smile. He had fucked me in every position imaginable, save swinging from the chandeliers. It had pissed me off that he left me alone in the bed without so much as a ‘by your leave’ after I went to sleep, but at least he had the decency to not stick me with the hotel bill. But I was over being mad. I’m a big girl, and it didn’t hurt that all the girls at The Cat’s Claw were jealous. Not only had I scored the smoking hot, bad boy, biker, but he had positively fucked me silly, as well.
My smile faded. The sex had been good. No—not good—it had been fantastic, but no amount of getting my toes curled was worth this. That was three weeks ago, and it had been fun for a while, doling out little tidbits of information about our night together to the rapt attention of my coworkers. But not now, and not for the past week.
***
I stared at the little blue plus on the test strip. I turned it over and looked at the backside, hoping beyond hope that I was reading it wrong. I compared it to the instruction sheet, the paper going blurry as I did. I gasped as shock set in. “How?” I cried to the empty bathroom.
I carefully placed the test strip on the counter and walked into my bedroom where I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at my feet. “This is impossible,” I whispered. I got up and went back to the test strip. I needed to see the results again, just to be sure. The blue plus mocked me. “Oh no…” I fought the tears with everything I had, but it wasn’t enough. I returned to my bed, sick with fear and dread. I lay down and pulled the covers around me, staring at nothing as my life unrolled behind my eyes.
I’m only twenty-six, and unmarried. I had a good job, tending bar at The Claw, and a degree in biology that I got when I thought I was going to be a vet. But this changed everything. The Claw couldn’t have pregnant women working there; it was bad for business. My bottom lip quivered as tears streamed down my cheeks while I thought about what had happened. I’m going to lose my job. How would I keep my house? What would my friends say? This wasn’t the 1950s anymore, but I’m still going to be an unwed mother – an unwed mother in the South. An unwed, unemployed, mother in the South. The very thing my Grandfather railed about.
I cried for a while. I couldn’t help it. I had always been careful. Cain wasn’t my first lover, and I had always taken care to eliminate the risk of this happening. No pulling out, no timing my ovulation, no nothing. If you wanted your cock inside of me, you had to wear a condom. Period. I gasped and wiped at my eyes. It wasn’t fair!
I worried what my grandparents would say when I finally had to tell them. They had raised me from a young child after my parents were killed. They were the only family I had, but they were old-time southern and they wouldn’t understand. They had, eventually, adjusted to the fact that their granddaughter was a bartender in a club known for… personal… service. But this? This would be too much. The more I thought about it, the more I thought I was going to throw up.
***
I woke with a start and stared at the bedside clock. I must have dropped back to sleep. As I watched the clock changed to 1:00 PM, I dragged myself out of the bed. I felt slightly better. The two-hour nap seemed to have taken the edge off my shock. I was still sick with dread, but I didn’t feel like my world was ending anymore.
I padded into the bath to relieve myself, stopping to stare at the test results again. I picked it up and tossed it into the trash. No matter how many times I looked at it, the plus sign refused to go away.
I started the shower and stepped inside, trying to decide what I was going to do. I decided what I wasn’t going to do: I wasn’t going to tell a soul until I had a doctor confirm the results. Maybe it was a false positive, though if I were honest with myself, I knew it wasn’t. Then, starting tomorrow, I would start trying to find another job. It would be a while before I began to show and I could use that time to do some job hunting while I still worked at The Claw. I had a Bachelor’s degree in biology, after all. Surely someone, somewhere, would hire me.
Maybe I could get a loan and go back to school to become a vet. Then I could work in a vet’s office for a while, then open my own practice. I had always wanted to be a vet, and the only reason I quit school was because the bartending gig was so lucrative. I had always thought I would do the bartending thing for a few years and then go back to school. Life was just forcing me to speed up my plans.
As I rinsed my hair, I knew I was also going to have to get my financial affairs in order. My car was almost paid for, so, except for my house, I didn’t owe anyone any money. But I was probably going to have to take a pretty steep cut in pay when I left The Claw. Bartending might not be the noblest profession in the world, but I could rake in a couple of grand on a good week.
I tried to remember how much money I had in savings, but couldn’t. It hadn’t been important before now. Also, starting today, no more eating out all the time. I could cook, and did, but I still ate out with friends at least three nights a week. One night a week, tops. And no more drinking. I wasn’t a lush by any stretch, but I had been known to allow a customer to buy me a drink now and then. No more of that; I had another life to think about now.
I stepped out of my bath. I had a plan, and I felt a little more in control. My life was about to change in the most radical way possible, but I would cope. I always had. If I were lucky, I might still even be able to make the regionals in the flair-tending competition. It would suck to have drop out now after getting within one step of competing in the nationals. And if I won… that twenty-grand would buy a lot of baby shoes.
***
I fixed myself some lunch then wandered around the house. I tried to surf the net, read a book, and watch television, but I couldn’t focus on anything. I may have a plan, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still in shock. I couldn’t focus on anything as my mind whirled in ever-tighter circles. I desperately wanted to talk to someone, but I didn’t know anyone that I could trust with my secret. Throwing shade was an art form in New Orleans, and I didn’t want to be on the receiving end.
Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. I dressed in my best outfit, tight in all the right places but loose enough to allow me to move freely, and gathered my things. I was going to get to The Claw early so I could spend a few minutes with my practice bottle, warming up and getting into the groove. The key to flair-tending was focus and concentration, and I wasn’t having much luck with either of those things right now. I was hoping that when I got to The Claw, and the juices got flowing, I would be okay. I hoped. Otherwise it was going to be an expensive night and I wondered how many bottles I could break before they started coming out of my pay.
I threw the top back on my car and plopped into the seat. I was about to be a mommy, but for a while yet, I could still be the hot babe in the sports car. I planned to enjoy it while I could. As I drove across town, I flashed my best come-hither smile at all the admiring glances, the same smile I used at work to keep the tips coming.
Later, as I bounced around the break room, grooving to the music blasting away up front, I worked my bottle, practicing my flips, twirls, and stalls. I worked on my new signature move, the toe kick, where I dropped the bottle, caught it on my toe, and kicked it back up into my hand. It was a devastating move when I was behind the bar and the mark couldn’t see me catch it on my foot.
I found if I really focused I could force away the results of the test this morning—for a while anyway—and that would have to do. I couldn’t spend the next nine months fretting over something I couldn’t change, and getting back into my routine would take my mind off my troubles… for a while.