Sydney POV
I can't really remember why we did it. Though I know there was no way we could have possibly put much thought into it. We weren't in love or anything; at least not the normal kind of love, or at least I don't think we were. Neither one of us was about to die of some fatal disease, or move away forever, or any other stupid reason you could think of. The best I can come up with is that we had all these tiny, little nagging reasons, and we just lumped them all together into one huge mistake.
I was feeling rebellious for one. My brother, Eric, was a stud soccer player, and had been offered a contract to play for a team in the English Premier League. He jumped at the chance, even though it meant he had to quit school and move thousands of miles away. My parents were naturally furious, and for what seemed like weeks they screamed and hollered at each other. In the end, Tai left and my parents started acting like he didn't exist. He didn't come home on vacations, and it was rare that I'd get a postcard or a phone call. Eric was my hero, confidant, and protector all rolled up into one. And I guess I resented my parents because I thought they had driven him away. I felt like doing something I knew they would disapprove of, almost just for the sake of doing it.
We were both very curious, having heard a lot of talk in class and in the locker rooms. And we were perhaps more mature than our classmates in some ways, having been through some things they couldn't even comprehend. We were about as comfortable with each other as two people could be, being best friends and all. And both of us were nervous about what seemed to be expected of us by everyone our age. And sometimes, when I'm in a sentimental or romantic mood, I look back and wonder if I didn't have some more personal reasons, too. There was only one side of ourselves that Ryan and I didn't share with each other, and I wonder if I didn't feel jealous about the idea of him becoming that close with anyone besides me. I wonder if I didn't look at what we would do, as a way of marking him as mine forever.
But, I'm getting away from the facts. And the facts are that one night, when Ryan's mom was at some press dinner, and we were alone in his house, we had sex.
It was not an enjoyable experience. It was quick and awkward, and the pain was a lot worse than I thought it would be. I know it made Ryan feel horrible when I couldn't keep myself from crying, but at that moment I didn't care what he felt. I didn't even want to speak to him again until almost three days later, and I hated him with a passion for those three days. But, as silly as it sounds, I got over it. We both knew that we had made a mistake, we both regretted it, and neither of us ever wanted to talk about it again. So we pushed all thought of it to the very back of our minds, and simply tried to go back to the way things had been before. And it worked, too, right up until the day when everything came crashing down on top of us.
It was a Saturday, and like any other Saturday for the past two years, it started with Ryan showing up at my door for our morning run. I was puking up my guts in the bathroom when I heard his usual two beat knock.
"In a minute!" I spat out, my voice echoing a little off the concave of the bowl. This was the third morning in a row that I had started on my knees, but the only thought I had given it so far was that I hated my mother's cooking. I dry heaved a couple times, and then groaning, I got up and went to the sink to rinse out my mouth.
I heard Ryan knock again, this time pounding on the door with the underside of his fist, determined to be a pest.
"Hold on!" I screamed louder, my voice screeching a little. I swished the cool water around in my mouth. And wondered how some of the girls at my school could stand to stick their fingers down their throats after every meal.
I finally made it to the door, only to find that Ryan was no longer there. He was standing three apartments down the hall, talking to a girl from our school. Her name was Jana, and in my opinion she was a bleach headed ditz, and charter member of the bulimic club I had just been thinking about. I rolled my eyes and mentally cursed Ryan for knocking so loud as to cause the vile thing to emerge from her cave.
She was dressed in one of those little white nightshirts that are small enough to show a lot of leg, but also somehow wide enough so that it hangs down off of one shoulder. She played with her hair and giggled like an idiot while Ryan told her about how he had scored two touchdowns in his last football game.
Ryan's back was to me, but I could imagine the smile on his face; the overly charming, cocky grin that sometimes just made me want to slap him. His deep, flawless blue eyes would be flashing behind messy hair, flattered and amused at the way the silly girl was fawning over him. He had on his old pair of sneakers, the ones he'd had so long that the bottoms were worn smooth and the toes curled upwards. Up close, they smelled like something had crawled inside them and died. His green mesh basketball shorts were hanging low on his hips, exposing the very top of his sky blue boxers. He was wearing an old undershirt that was beginning to turn pale gray from so many trips through the washer. And I knew from experience that he would take it off and bunch it up in his hand before we'd get more than two blocks from my door. It was just habit for him, but I still liked to tease him about showing off.
I frowned and looked down at my own attire, realizing that he might have the cause to tease me right back. I had on a stretchy black sports bra, which I had bought because according to the package it "both accentuated and supported where needed". And frankly, there were some parts of my body that needed all the accentuating they could get. I also had on a pair of black bike shorts and my pair of cross-trainers, which were still brown and dusty from Ryan absentmindedly kicking dirt on them the day before.
My thoughts turning back towards Ryan, I decided he and Jana had been in conversation long enough. So without really thinking about it, I took a short running start, and jumped up on his back.
Ryan gave a surprised groaning sound and took a couple hesitant steps forward under my added weight. But this was not the first time I had ever leapt at him like this, and he reflexively reached back his hands to support my thighs, hefting me up a little so that my arms could gain a better hold around his neck.
"Ready to go run?" I asked innocently.
"Feels like you need to." He quipped back in a pretend strained voice, making his knees wobble like they were about to give out.
"Don't call me fat!" I whined, giving him a little cuff upside the head.
It was only then that I turned my attention to the other person present. "Jana!" I screamed, acting as if I had just noticed her. "How have you been?" I gave her a big warning smile. The kind that guys think are friendly, but that girls know translate into "back off, slut."
"Sydney." She answered with an equal amount of fake enthusiasm. "Oh, not much. Ryan and I were just having a nice little chat before you came along." She giggled and gave me a sharp, toothy grin that told me that "I was a little bitch, and she hoped I dropped dead."
"Well, I guess we'll have to see you later, Jana." Ryan's easy voice broke through our war of smiles. "Take it easy." He finished, already beginning to turn around with me still on his back.
"Bye, Jana." I added, flashing a superior grin that probably looked a lot like Ryan's cocky one.
She was so pissed her face started to turn red, and she could barely keep her stupid smile from turning into a sneer. I debated whether or not I should stick my tongue out at her.
It was no secret that a lot of the "popular" girls at school hated me because Ryan and I were so close, and they weren't above saying some pretty nasty things about me behind my back. I couldn't have cared less though. I had seen Ryan first, he was mine, and any girl who wanted to get her hands on him would have to meet my approval. And I'd sooner be lying cold and dead in the ground than give Jana or any of her little friends my approval.
Ryan was the same way though. I couldn't count the number of times some really sweet guy would finally work up the courage to come talk to me, only to have Mr. Hotshot-football-Star stroll over and nonchalantly throw his arm around my shoulders. Then he'd stand there, chewing some gum or sipping a coke, pretending that he was deeply engrossed in whatever conversation the poor guy was trying to keep going. After a couple minutes Ryan would make some smart-ass comment that would make me jab him in the ribs with my elbow. And then he'd give me a little kick in the butt. And pretty soon after that we'd be rolling around on the ground trying to put each other in submission holds. After a lot of laughing and screaming we'd finally stop wrestling. And then just stare up at the guy with quizzical looks, trying to figure out why he was still standing there.
Yep, we were a pretty territorial pair.
That thought had me in a pretty smug mood until we came to the stairwell, and Ryan unceremoniously dropped me on my butt.
"Whoops." He said, wincing and rubbing the back of his head as he looked down at me. "I thought you were paying attention."
"Ow, my ass." I mumbled, scowling and stretching out my arms to him. He pulled me to my feet and flashed me an apologetic smile. I reached over and pulled his shorts all the way down to his ankles.
"Whoops." I said as I started down the stairs. "I thought you were paying attention."
"Touché." I heard him mutter as I reached the first landing. He caught up to me as I hit the next one, still trying to pull the drawstring of his shorts into a tighter knot. And we where running even when we went out the door to the street, which was about the time any chance of me staying in a good mood just evaporated completely.
It was a sweaty morning, the kind I absolutely hate. The narrow morning sun made you squint your eyes uncomfortably. The air was heavy and humid, with just enough of a chill to give you goose bumps. And the grass was covered with big thick drops of dew that made your socks all wet and itchy when you ran through it. It all made me feel tired and sluggish, like I should crawl back into bed and bury myself under a warm blanket.
To make it worse, Ryan was obviously in a very good mood that morning. His face was open and relaxed, not all drawn up and tight like it is when he's angry or worried. He bounced along on the balls of his feet. I swear I could almost hear whatever old song he'd be playing in his head to keep rhythm. And he was constantly looking around as we ran, his attention shifting every few seconds. He looked so comfortable and at ease that it made me want to tackle him, except that would have required me to have some actual energy. So I just sighed and kept plodding ahead. It was Ryan who decided that I was the one who needed to be knocked around. Which is why I suddenly went sprawling to the grass, my clothes getting soaked by the dew, and feeling just about ready to kill a certain infuriating boy.
Ryan POV
I could usually be a pretty good judge of Sydney's moods. I could tell when she felt like roughhousing, or laughing at stupid jokes that only the two of us could understand. Or I could watch how she kind of half-closed her eyes, and know that this meant all she wanted to do was sink down into the couch and chew on her hair while we watched TV. And if I saw that she was letting her lower lip tremble even the slightest bit, then I knew I had to wrap her up in my arms and let her cry into my shoulder until she fell into a shallow sleep. And of course there was the look that she had been giving me a lot lately, the narrowed eyes-scrunched up cheeks look that told me in no uncertain terms to stand still and shut up. I could usually spot one of these moods, or any one of her numerous others, in a nanosecond. I say usually, because every now and then, such as that Saturday, I could just be completely and utterly oblivious.
That day, I was just feeling way too content with life to worry much about anything. Football was perfection. I was getting decent grades in school, well, except for that C- in calculus, but no one had ever accused me of being a mathematical genius. And the earth didn't seem to be spinning out of its orbit or anything, so I had to say that everything was going okay.
I was also feeling kind of playful. And without really thinking I leaned over and gave Kari a little sideways bump with my hips. But I must have bumped her a little too hard, because next thing I knew she was spread- eagled on the grass.
"Oh crap…" I said, trying to control the nervous smile that was forcing itself on my face.
Sydney just laid there for a moment before lifting up her head. She tried to skin me alive with the glare in her simmering amber eyes. She gritted her teeth. "You big…"
Then she stopped in mid-insult because I couldn't control the laughter that suddenly burst out of my mouth.
"Don't you dare laugh at me!" she screeched, causing her whole body to tremble a little. A big mess of brown hair fell over her face, making me laugh even harder.
She started to get up and I took off down the sidewalk, laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. Syd was going to kill me, and I found it absolutely hilarious. I hadn't gotten that far at all when I heard her huffing and puffing right behind me, she could really pump those little legs when she wanted to. I only managed about another four steps before she brought me down with a slide tackle Eric had taught her when we were little.
"Oh, please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I coughed out as I tried to crawl away, my eyes tearing up from laughing so hard.
"I'll show you sorry!" She growled, holding tight around my waist. But I could tell she was fighting a smile. Her fury had already started to subside into friendly anger. She started to tickle me, her fingers wriggling like spiders as she exploited my horribly sensitive stomach and ribs.
"Oh Christ, Syd, stop! Stop!" I squealed as I tried to curl up in a protective ball.
"I'll stop when you say it." She cooed tauntingly as she continued her vicious attack.
"No! I won't say it! You can't make me!"
"Oh really?" She laughed, tickling up my sides until I was squirming around like a worm on hot concrete.
I kept trying to wiggle away but it was just too much. "Okay! Okay I'll say it!" I paused and hoped to God there was no one I knew standing close by.
"I'm your bitch." I admitted dejectedly.
"I know." She giggled and reached over to pat my cheek. Then she stretched out her legs on the grass and rested her head on my stomach, her shiny brown hair fanning out on my white undershirt.
The sun was beginning to shine a little bolder and stronger, warming our dew-soaked clothes as we lay there on the grass. I crossed my arms under my head and stared up at the papery morning clouds for a little bit. When that soon grew boring, I propped my head up a little more and looked at Syd. She was an interesting subject, even to me, who saw her almost every waking moment. Every time you looked at her you seemed to notice something different, or maybe remembered something about her you had forgotten; the traces of gold that hid in her hair, the little cluster of pale freckles on the bridge of her nose, or how when she tilted her head just right, you could catch a glimpse of the insanely beautiful girl sleeping just below the surface, waiting peacefully for the day when Syd decided she wanted to be absolutely perfect. And her eyes, well, they were a story unto themselves. Sometimes they could be so harsh and glaring, like she had to constantly be on guard against something sneaking up behind her to steal away everything she cared about. But other times they were just flowing pools of hot tea with cream, so tender and caring that you just wanted to curl up in her arms and fall asleep. I was glad to see that hot tea look in her eyes as I watched her lazily pull apart a dandelion and blow the seeds into the air.
"Have you ever noticed that most of our jogs seem to end up this way?" I asked her.
"You mean you admitting that you're my bitch?" She responded, not looking away from the dandelion seeds slowly floating to the ground.
"Besides that. I meant that we always seem to end up laying in the grass instead of jogging."
She gave a little nod of her head. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I have kind of noticed a pattern there. Why do you ask?"
"No reason, just checking."
Neither one of us said anything for a few more minutes. I closed my eyes and tried to get comfortable despite the way the sun poured a dull orange glow through my eyelids. Syd barely even moved until she pulled the last dandelion seed off the stem, and then she turned over and propped her hands up underneath her cheeks.
"You about ready to head back to your place?" She asked through the center of her scrunched up mouth.
"Sure, I guess." I shrugged thinking that my couch would be a lot more comfortable then the grass.
We got to our feet and she waited while I popped my shoulders. Then we both slowly jogged towards my apartment, completing the last leg of our Saturday morning routine. By the time we reached my building, we were both feeling lazy enough to take the elevator rather than jog the last four flights of stairs. My home was third on the left, and Syd yawned impatiently as I fought with the lock that always stuck.
"Oh, for Christ's sake." She grumbled after a few minutes. "Let me do it." She slid between me and the door, and only had to fiddle with the damn thing for a few seconds before it swung open.
"Even your own house likes me better than you." She smirked at me before going in.
She was probably right. Syd and my mom were the only ones who never had to fight with the blasted door to get it open. It usually took me or Alex a good five minutes of jiggling and shaking the knob. And anyone else was pretty much screwed.
Inside, the shades were almost all the way down on the windows. The sunlight came through in narrow bands that slanted across the beige carpet, giving it a soft color like it had been filtered through yellow streamer paper. I could feel the air conditioner blowing on the back of my neck, and the whole apartment felt cool, dark, and drowsy.
Syd neatly lined her shoes up next to the door, and then plodded off to my room to grab a sweatshirt from the drawer of clothes she had for when she stayed over.
I kicked my sneakers behind the plastic banana plant in the corner, and then went over to the fridge. I thought about getting a coke, but I would probably only take a couple sips and then set it down somewhere on the floor, forgetting about it until hours later when I would accidentally kick it over. So I just grabbed a bottle of water for Syd in case she wanted it, and then plopped down on the couch, letting myself sink into the cool leather. I stared at the blank television screen and tried to see if I had any latent telekinetic powers that would make it turn to Sportscenter.
I heard Syd come back in a few moments later. She grabbed the TV remote off the kitchen counter, and then curled up next to me on the couch, nudging me with her elbows and hips to make more room. I had a vague sense of being trapped between the cool of the couch and the warmth of her body.
"No Sportscenter." She ordered softly as she began to slowly flip through the channels.
I gave an exaggerated sigh of defeat, and watched for a few seconds while she flicked between commercials and a bunch of crappy movies from the early 80's. Then I gave in to the sleepiness of the situation, and let my eyelids fall closed.
I felt Syd do the same a few minutes later. She settled back against me, her head pressed up under my chin so that a few strands of shiny brown hair tickled my neck. We both drifted off as the TV babbled on in the background.
Any other Saturday, we would have slept all afternoon as the shadows lengthened and shrank around us. Becoming a tangle of arms and legs as we unconsciously jostled each other for position on the couch. Some time in the late afternoon, my mom would come home from work at the paper, and throw a blanket over us before going out on the balcony to smoke half a pack of Marlboros. Then she'd come in and wake us up so we could order takeout before we went out with our friends.
I wish we could have had just one more Saturday like that, where the only thing the two of us had to worry about was being pushed off the couch by each other, or if we should get Italian or Chinese. But I guess everyone wishes they could have had once last summer at their grandparents or one talk with their best friend. Seems like you can't really cherish something until after it’s gone.
But anyway, I was probably only a few seconds from being completely asleep, when I suddenly felt Syd stiffen beside me, disrupting the complete comfort of the situation. I kept my eyes closed for a few minutes to see if she'd settle back down, but when she started to sit up I reluctantly opened them.
"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice slurring a little from being almost asleep.
"No-nothing." She stammered quietly. She was staring hard at the TV screen. Her whole body was rigid and it looked like she was holding her breath. From where I sat, her eyes looked glassy and scared. I suddenly felt the urge to put my arms around her, and pull her back down next to me where I could protect her better.
"Syd?" I asked again, sitting up beside her.
She looked at me for a second, her eyes creased with worry, and then immediately turned away as if she were ashamed.
"I-I just remembered that Eric was going to call today." She said, staring back at the TV. "I should probably get home."
I knew it was a lie. If Eric had really promised to call, Syd never would have left her house. She would have gotten up at dawn and sat next to the phone all day rather than take any chance at missing her brother's call. And there was no way she would have forgotten, not even for a second.
But I didn't press her on it, even though I wanted to. I was scared to push her in any way, afraid that it would hurt her and make her hate me even more. I had been dreading something like that ever since that awful night a couple months before, when she had turned away from me and cried into her pillow.
"Okay." I said simply. I followed her gaze to the TV, which was showing the tail end of some cutesy diaper commercial. "I'll give you a call later then."
"Uh, yeah." She nodded, but she didn't sound sure. I watched her go over to the door and wiggle her feet back into her shoes. Her eyes kept sweeping over the room like she thought she was forgetting something. But I noticed that she kept her gaze high over my head rather than look at me.
"I'll see you later." I said a little too earnestly, like I was trying to make her promise.
She nodded again with her eyes towards the floor, and gave me a tentative little wave before closing the door behind her.
I stared after her for a little bit, a dull, uncertain ache in my chest. I knew that she must have had her reasons to lie to me, but it still hurt, considering that until a couple of months ago we had never hidden anything from each other. So I lay back down on the couch and thought about going after her. But I didn't, even though I should have.
Syd POV
I was so close to falling asleep. I could feel Ryan's chest rise and fall against my back, his long, warm, sleepy breaths grazing the top of my head. A drowsy rhythm that lulled my eyes closed, and made me snuggle closer to his warmth. I started to listen to the dim noise of the TV, the scripted dialogue forming pictures in my not-quite-dreams. I heard the start of the diaper commercial come on, and it made think about babies; babies smiling, babies crawling, babies crying, and then in one horrible second everything I hadn't paid attention to suddenly clicked together in my mind.
Throwing up in the morning, moodiness, the stomach cramps I'd been having every now and then, they all added up to something. I sat up quickly from the couch, my heart pounding in my ears. I started to feel that horrible, panicky feeling when fear starts to burn in your stomach, and up through your arms to your shoulders and neck.
I could hear the worry in Ryan's voice when he sat up next to me. And I almost told him what was screaming in my mind. But then I caught a glimpse of his caring blue eyes, and I immediately felt so stupid and ashamed that I couldn't look at him. What had I done? How could I tell him that I might have destroyed our lives?
I started to feel tears collecting behind my eyes and I tried hard to concentrate. I hadn't gotten my period in almost eight weeks, but there had been longer stretches, so maybe everything was okay. I kept telling myself this, but I couldn't get any part of me to believe it. I just knew I had to get away from Ryan before I dissolved into tears.
He knew I was lying about Eric, I could feel the hurt in his voice as I moved to the door. And it made me feel horrible because the last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt him. But I was just so scared that the only thing I could think to do was leave.
I practically threw myself down the stairs, and then burst out the door, but I didn't get very much farther before I suddenly had to lean over the grass and throw up. Just thinking about what that probably meant made me want to curl up in a ball and cry. But I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my sweatshirt and just started running, vaguely thinking that maybe pregnancy wouldn't be able to catch me if I just ran fast enough and far enough. "Oh, please, God!" I thought over and over again. "Don't let this happen to me!"
About halfway home, the fear and nausea finally caught back up to me, and I had to stop. I took a few deep breaths, and tried to think clearly. I had to go buy a pregnancy test, I realized. That was the only way to know if my life were truly over. I jogged the rest of the way to my apartment, holding the tears at bay with the flimsy hope that maybe I just had the flu.
At home, I stood outside the door for a few minutes, terrified that my parents would be home. But the apartment was empty, and they had left a note on the refrigerator "Went out with friends, back around 7, money for pizza on the stove". I had no idea how much a pregnancy test would cost. Why would I have ever needed to know? So I grabbed the twenty off the corner of the stove, and then rushed into my room to grab the crumpled handful of fives and ones hidden in my underwear drawer. I stuffed them down into my bike shorts and then ran back out the door, not stopping until I got to the corner pharmacy three blocks away.
The moment I walked in the door I felt my face turn scarlet as a huge wave of nerves and shame came over me. The store was jam packed with people, and I couldn't imagine that they had any other purpose there except to stare and whisper at the stupid little girl who had ruined her life.
I went over to the isle I was somewhat sure stuff like tests were on and peeked around the corner. There was a tired looking old lady trying to pick out cough syrup, but other than that the isle was empty. I walked over next to the tests and tried to look like I was just curious. When I was sure the old lady wasn't looking, I grabbed the closest one and stuffed it in my armpit. Then I turned around and walked as fast as I could back to the front of the store.
I remember almost bursting into tears when I saw how long the lines were at the checkout counters; Runners getting bottled water and Gatorade, young businessmen grabbing some coffee before heading to the office for a few hours, elderly couples walking from their condos to get the early edition of the Sunday paper and some milk. And all of them were ahead of me, beside me, and then lining up in back of me.
And there I was; a ridiculous looking little girl in bike shorts and an oversized sweatshirt, hiding a pregnancy test under her arm and clenching her face up so tight against the tears that it gave me a headache.
I hated all those people. Why couldn't they just go away? Didn't they have anything better to do than be in this store, buying their stupid coffee and water? My jaw felt slack, and my stomach started to turn over on itself. I started to feel bile burning the back of my throat, and I was scared to death I was going to throw up on the hunched-over old man in front of me.
I had never felt so alone, so isolated and ashamed as I did at that moment, surrounded by all those people. I wished Eric were there, or even more I wished Ryan were. But at the same time I was so glad they weren't. I didn't want them to see me doing this. I wouldn't be able to handle their disappointed looks added to the throng around me.
The line moved agonizingly slow. Some woman with too much makeup and a voice like fingernails down a chalkboard was bitching at the checkout clerk about some coupons that had expired. And she seemed determined not to move until she got the extra ten cents off her Tylenol. I stood there hoping she'd choke on it, until a harried looking manager finally led her off to the side so the line could move again.
Strangely enough, that wasn't a relief. My mouth was dry, but I swallowed hard. I had begun to think about what would happen when I finally had to pull the test out from under my arm and set it down in front of the clerk, and pull the crumpled, raggedy dollars out of my shorts and pay for it. What if the clerk laughed, or just stood there and gawked at me with her mouth hanging open like a fish? What if I was too young to even buy a test? Was there any sort of law like that? Oh, Jesus Christ, I didn't know.
I heard the old man in front of me mumble a cheerful 'thank you', and then go shuffling off to the door. My heart leapt up into my throat and I stepped forward. There was a candy rack just below the counter, and as I hurriedly set the test down, I grabbed a bag of Skittles and put them on top of it. Immediately, I switched my attention to the shelf of tabloid magazines just to my right. I tried to pretend like I was just a regular bored, teenage girl running an errand for her mom. But I could feel my face burning like a guilty red lantern.
Its funny, but I couldn't tell you now what that clerk looked like. I never saw her face. I just stood there, staring blankly at some headline about Jennifer Aniston's weight problem. The clerk had to have been surprised though; she had to be, because for a few awful seconds I didn't hear her move. But then she quickly ran the test and the Skittles over the scanner, and then swept them both into a little brown paper bag.
"That'll be seventeen-thirty-two." She announced, keeping her voice even and slightly cheerful, whether it was for my benefit or hers I don't know.
I handed the twenty dollars my parents had left me for pizza to a small pair of hands with cracking, pink nail polish. I know now that seventeen-thirty-two was pretty expensive for a pregnancy test, by chance; I had grabbed a two-pack of the most expensive brand. But at the time, I didn't think anything at all of the price. I even remember thinking to myself that there was no way something as life changing as a pregnancy test could be bought cheaply. It just… didn't seem equal.
"Two dollars and sixty-eight cents is your change." The clerk said as she handed me the little handful of money, followed by the brown bag.
I can't remember if I said ‘thank you’, but I doubt it. Somehow, I managed to walk slowly out the door with my eyes staring down at the ground. My attention was focused on the smooth crinkle of the bag in my hands, and underneath that, I could barely feel the sharp outline of the box.
I walked home in a daze, feeling numb all over. Ryan, Eric, and my parents all flashed through my head like a slide show. I remembered the look on Ryan's face when I left his house and I suddenly felt like crying. The big sweet dope, he probably thought I was mad at him. And, oh God, please don't let him hate me.
My parents still weren't home when I got back. And the shadows were starting to grow thick in the corners of the apartment, but I left all the lights off except for the one over the sink in the bathroom. I opened up the bag and took out the Starburst first. I laughed a little to myself because I didn't even like Starburst, and it felt good to know that I could still smile. They were Ryan's favorite though, so I set them aside to give him later…
Something about that thought caught in my mind. Was I actually thinking about later, when I was holding a pregnancy test in my hands? I routed around inside myself, trying to find that overwhelming fear that had sent me running from Ryan's house earlier. But all I felt was a dripping heaviness, like a huge block of ice sitting on top of my stomach and slowly melting.
Sometimes, when you've been so afraid that it hurts like a hand squeezing your heart, you get to a point when you can't take it any more, and your heart and mind start to tell you that things can't possibly be that horrible. It's a point where you've stopped crying, and you look at yourself in the mirror and feel silly and embarrassed because the tracks of your tears are still visible on your cheeks. It's a fragile sort of peace, like the eye of the hurricane, and all it takes to break it is the slightest pressure.
I pulled out the box, and a little rush of understanding rippled through me when I saw that it was a two-pack. (So that's why it was so expensive) I read the directions carefully, and they seemed simple enough; just pee in the cup, dip the little stick in it, and ten minutes later, if its blue, you're pregnant. They don't come much easier than that, I thought to myself, feeling a little braver in my sarcasm.
But as soon as I picked up the plastic cup, a little trickle of fear went squirting through my stomach. My chest suddenly felt tight, and it didn't seem like I could take a deep enough breath. My hands shook as I pulled down my shorts, and I quickly sat down on the toilet with the cup held beneath me, just wanting to get it over with. I sat there waiting, suddenly desperate to get out of the bathroom. My forehead started to tingle with sweat.
I couldn't go…
My whole body was trembling and I felt like I was going to explode if I didn't get out of there, but I couldn't go, I just couldn't go. I felt so angry, and frustrated, and embarrassed, and scared. I tired to tense up my muscles, but I still couldn't go. And it all felt so ridiculous that I wanted to throw that stupid cup out the goddamn window! And then I was crying again, sobbing, as I sat there not able to go to the bathroom. Until finally I pulled my shorts up and ran to the kitchen. I got a glass and filled it at the sink and started drinking, gulping down the water, and I almost choked because I was trying to drink and cry at the same time. I coughed, and some of the water splashed dark on my sweatshirt. I filled the cup again, and drank until I didn't think I could hold any more.
Then it was back to the bathroom, to sit back down and wait because I still couldn't go. I wanted to scream, just scream so loudly that the neighbors would break down the door and carry me somewhere far away. But I bit down on my tongue and held the scream back, and finally managed to fill the stupid cup. I put it next to the sink, and then dropped the little stick in it as I rushed out. I slammed the door shut with one hand, and finished pulling my shorts up with the other.
Weak blue light leaked in through the closed window shades, and the apartment was mostly dark. But I didn't want to turn on any lights; the thin yellow line at the bottom of the bathroom door was too much by itself.
Ten minutes, I thought, ten minutes until I know. Fresh fear started to flood my insides, like a dank sinkhole had opened up in my chest. I had stopped sobbing, thank God, but it didn't seem like the tears were ever going to stop. They just kept pouring down my cheeks as fast as I could wipe them on the sleeve of my sweatshirt, bubbling up from some hot, stinging fountain inside me. I went over to the couch and sat down, but immediately nausea began to pool up in my stomach, so I got up and started to pace around the room. That didn't really help the nausea, but it was better than sitting down. Maybe it’s because I was always sick, and not able to move around much when I was younger, but I had never been able to sit still in times of worry. I just felt too helpless and vulnerable. At least while you were on your feet, you could feel like you were ready to meet whatever was coming at you. Even if it was something you really couldn't fight against.
I circled the living room and kitchen five times each before I looked at the clock and figured that a little over ten minutes had passed. I did one more circuit just to be sure and then slowly walked over to the bathroom door.
For a few minutes, I just stared into it so intently that its edges began to grow blurry in the darkness, and I half expected it to swing open on its own accord, the bathroom light spilling over me in revelation. But when I reached out my hand to touch it, I was reassured that it was nothing more than polished and painted wood, shut firmly in place.
Beyond that door, the little stick was either blue or white; the question of pregnancy was already decided. But what if I never opened that door? What if I never again set eyes on that little stick? Maybe, if I never learned what color it was, then my body would never have to abide by its judgment. I could board up the room and shut away the test, leaving it sitting there forever like some kind of fairy charm. And I would stay a normal teenage girl with her whole life ahead of her. And Ryan, and Eric, and my parents would never know about the hell I had been through in just a few short hours… I wished and prayed for that with all my heart. Even though I knew that it was the kind of wish and prayer that would never be answered.
I wiped my eyes one last time, and softly pushed open the door. The cup was still sitting where I had left it on the counter, the little stick had been dyed a pale, sickly blue. For a second I was numb to the world, but then fear, and anger, and loathing all roared up inside of me like huge blast of fire.
"No!" I screamed. It was wrong! It had to be! The test must have been defective! That must be why they gave you two of them! Why would they put two tests in the box unless they thought one of them probably wouldn't work the right way?
I ran over to the counter and pushed everything except the unopened second test into the small garbage pail next to the toilet. My vision was wet and blurry through the tears that were once again gushing out of my eyes. I was sobbing so hard that my shoulders were jumping up and down, making my hands shake as I opened the second test.
I cupped my hands together under the bathroom faucet, and slurped down a few handfuls of water before sitting on the toilet. I somehow managed to go without much trouble that time, and after dropping the stick in the cup, I sat down on the edge of the bathtub and watched it, determined not to let the lying thing out of my sight so it couldn't cheat.
I sat there for ten minutes as the little stick turned the same weak shade of blue as the first one. Then I screamed my heart out and hurled it at the bathtub wall, wanting it to crack and break like it felt I was doing. I looked up and found myself staring into the mirror, starring at an ugly, stupid little girl with a face smudged and blotchy from crying, and a tangled mess of brown hair, a girl who had just destroyed her life. My legs gave out underneath me, and I crumpled to the icy tile, curling up in a little ball and just crying without end.
I had known, I had known all day in the back of my mind that I was pregnant, and no test was going to be able to tell me different. But now all doubt, all hope had been taken away, and the clear, stark truth had hit me like a ton of bricks.
What was I going to do?
Lying there on the floor, one cheek cold against the tile and the other hot against the tears, many thoughts crossed my mind. Thoughts I don't want to tell you about, thoughts that make me cringe when I remember them, sad, dark, desperate thoughts.
I don't know how long I lay there, probably not as long as it seemed, which was forever. I didn't notice when the tears finally stopped, but they did. I pushed myself halfway up and leaned against the bottom cabinets. My eyes felt dry from all the crying and I was still sniffling a little bit. I wanted my parents to come home, but at the same time I was dreading the moment I'd hear the front door open.
I wanted someone to hold me, I had felt alone for so long that day that I needed someone else. I stood up and started to walk, knowing without thinking that I was going to Ryan. Even if he hated me, even if his face became drawn up and dark, with his beautiful eyes flashing like thunder behind storm clouds. He would still hold me, at least for a little while, and at that moment I needed that more than anything else in the world.
But I didn't see Ryan that night. I was standing in the doorway of the bathroom when I heard the front door open, followed by the gentle hum of my parent's talking to each other in laughing voices.
I had no way of knowing that they were going to do what they did, no inkling, and no suspicion. But even still, my insides froze up like ice, and my heart leapt up into my throat when I heard them.
"Sydney?" My father's voice boomed through the apartment. "Sydney, are you home?"
=============================================================================
Ryan POV
“I will never understand why I let you talk me into watching this chick flick.” I said.
“Because I have you wrapped around my finger.” Kelly said with a small chuckle.
“I think it’s because you like torturing me, you know I despise Sex in the City.”
“Oh just clam up and watch the movie.” She new she was getting on my nerves. I could see it.
*ding dong*
“Who could that be?” She said while sitting up.
“I don’t know, but I’ll go find out.” I said standing up and walking away, feeling relieved to not be watching that dreadful movie.
“If it’s the pizza guy, make sure you give him a tip unlike last time.” She called from the living room as I reached the front door.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.” I replied as I opened the door. “I told you I would…n’t…”
“About time I’d find you mister.” A woman said, she appeared to be the same age as me but what caught my eye was that she had a little boy next to her.
“Um, can I help you Miss…?”
“Ms. Bradley, Ms. Sydney Bradley.” She said, almost instantly causing me to step back in surprise.
“S-Syd?!” I said in complete shock.
“Oh so you do remember me.” She said smirking. “We need to talk… NOW!”
“Umm, okay. But one thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Who’s this boy next to you?” I said pointing at the 3 or 4 year old next to her.
“This is Warren… your son.” She said, causing me to fall backwards.
Just before I slipped into unconsciousness I could faintly hear Kelly’s voice, “Oh god, Ryan!”
Subject: The Past Comes Back To Haunt Me 
Sat Jun 23, 2012 9:34 pm
