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CHAPTER THREE

Tara

IT’S BEEN THREE days and I’m still nauseous.

I’m in denial.

There is no way I’m pregnant. None.

Except the signs are glaringly obvious. My boobs are tender, I’m tired all the time, and I missed my period. Again. I had shrugged it off last month since it was only the second month since I started the new birth control pills. The ones I started just two days before meeting Sean.

But we used condoms.

I know. Typical excuse, even if it’s true. Condoms aren’t hundred percent effective. If you read the box it actually says they are only ninety-eight percent effective. Yes, I checked. Then I searched it on-line because I was hoping to find a different answer.

Well, I did, and guess what? The Internet’s answer was worse. Research has proved that condoms have an actual effective rate of only eighty-seven percent when you account for outside influences like expiration date, where and how they are stored, were they put on correctly, and a handful of other factors.

So here I sit, in the bathroom at work, rinsing my mouth out with mouthwash that I’ve started keeping in my purse, still in denial about what my body is trying to tell me.

I open the door, mentally preparing myself to go back to work, putting the possible baby out of mind for a few more hours, and deal with it later.

I’m stopped just two steps out the door. Sasha, my boss, is leaning against the wall. A small box in hand. A pregnancy test.

My mouth falls open. How the hell did she know?

She must have read the question on my face. “We’re both scientists, we are trained to be observant. You’ve been tired everyday for the last week even with drinking an entire pot of coffee. You’ve also run to the bathroom at least four times a day, yet don’t show any other signs of being ill.” She holds the box up. “Have you taken a test?”

I can’t answer. So I just shake my head. Tears start to build and I can feel a lump in my throat growing. What am I going to do if I am? I can’t continue working in the lab. There are too many chemicals, even with all the precautions we take to prevent toxic fumes, it’s not a guarantee. Will I have to move back in with my parents? I know they will be happy to welcome me home, and be there for me every step of the way. Will I feel like a failure if I go home? Will I need to work at the restaurant for the rest of my life?

Sasha steps away from the wall, and walks slowly over to me. She hands me the test, then turns me around and gives me a light shove back into the bathroom.

She enters behind me while I go into the stall and shut the door.

Why am I getting myself worked up? It could still be negative. What if I don’t take it? Then I won’t know even if I am pregnant. I can pretend I’m not then, right?

No. I can’t.

I’m a scientist at heart, and the unknown will bug me. It is literally ingrained in me to seek out the answer to a question. It’s like Schrodinger cat. With the lid of the box closed, the cat can be thought of as both alive and dead, until opened and the answer revealed.

Without this test, I am both pregnant and not pregnant. If I take the test, at least I have the chance of finding out I’m not, and putting my anxiety to rest.

What if I’m not? The thought instantly saddens me. Do I want to be pregnant?

I take the test out, and do my business on it, then cap it with the lid. After flushing, I open the door and head to the sink to wash my hands. I leave the test face down on the counter.

Do I want to be pregnant? My hand goes to my flat stomach. I’ve always wanted kids. I’ve always wanted a lot of kids. Growing up as an only child was both amazing and lonely. Amazing because I got all the attention from my parents, and they had the ability to focus all of their time and focus on me. On the other hand. It was lonely as hell. I never had a sibling to cause mischief with, or play dolls with. I had friends. I had Jeremy a few doors down. It wasn’t the same bond I longed for. The bond I want my future children to have.

Sasha moves to stand beside me and gives a nudge with her shoulder. “No matter what the test says. You will still have a job here. We can keep you out of the lab and give you a desk position.”

“I don’t want you to have to make special accommodations for me.” Already feeling guilty.

She gives me a smile. “I like you, but you aren’t that special.” The look on her face tells me she’s teasing, and I appreciate the laugh it gives me. “Consider it a perk of working for a female CEO. Our Employee Handbook includes a section for expectant mothers. It declares that a mother-to-be can receive temporary reassignment without question or repercussion if her current position poses any potential risk to the fetus.”

“Thanks, but I don’t even know if I am pregnant.” I reply. Knowing the answer lies only a few inches away.

“Flip it over and find out.” She encourages.

I take a deep breath. Gathering my courage. I pick it up. Still face down. One more deep breath.

Flip.

Pregnant.

Holy shit.

I’m pregnant.

Excitement floods my veins. All previous nerves vanish. I’m going to be fine. I have a wonderful support system. Sasha confirmed I still have a job. Everything will be good. Me and my little nugget are going to be just fine.

“I take it you’re happy.” I nod. “Good. Do you know how far along you are?”

I think back. There is only one person I have slept with in the past year. When was it, eleven, twelve weeks ago? “About twelve weeks.”

Fuck.

Sean.

I have to tell him.

Right?

I get we were never a couple or anything. It was only supposed to be the one night, but surely he would want to know he had a kid out there right?

What if he doesn’t want to be in our baby’s life?

What if he does?

Okay, that’s a lot of what-ifs.

“I need to schedule an appointment with my doctor.” I say out-loud, not really meaning to. I need to make sure my baby, my little nugget, is healthy, and get myself on some prenatal vitamins.

I feel a hand land on my shoulder. Sasha’s smile and understanding gaze further puts me at ease. She’s not much older than me, but she has this aura around her. It’s calming and invigorating at the same time. Like I want to do more, prove I’m worthy of being around her. Push myself to my limits, yet not fear that I am going to fail because she will reassure me that I haven’t failed. I’ve just proved another way how not to do something.

“Take the rest of the day off. Rest. Call your doctor. Call your parents. Do whatever you need to do to settle yourself. If you need Monday off, let me know.” I smile in return and nod.

Before she disappears behind the door I call out. “Thank you Sasha.”

“I’m just doing what I wish someone had done for my mother when she was pregnant with me.” And with that cryptic message she leaves.

I follow out a few minutes later. My hand already grabbing my phone and calling my doctor.