Page 67 of Size King

Each minute that slowly passes feels like an eternity. I just want to pay for the damn test and be out of there. Get the answer right away, throw the test in the garbage, and go on with my budding L.A. life.

By the time it’s our turn to check out, my patience has fully evaporated. I’m not going to wait for another second to know the truth. I’ll learn my fate in a CVS bathroom, just like many others that came before me.

I peeon the stick alone, but once my pants are back on, I quickly usher Emma in to join me. We huddle around the pregnancy test, anxiously awaiting the results.

“I don’t even know his last name,” I mumble.

“What?”

“The potential father of my unborn child,” I explain. “I know his first name, or at least, the name he used at the bar: Mason. I can’t believe I might be pregnant with some guy’s baby that I don’t even know!”

“I think you’re freaking out over nothing,” says Emma. “You’re probably just sick, or maybe you’re about to beonyour period, you know?”

“I guess it’s possible,” I say. “I never really feel like this when I’m on my period. I feel off. I can’t remember another time where I felt quite like I do right now.”

“I think you’re panicking yourself.”

“Wouldn’t you be freaking out?” I snap. “It’s been three weeks. A lot of pregnant women start showing signs right about then. It’s possible, right?”

“Well, yeah, of course, it’spossible,” says Emma. “But he wore a condom! Just wait the three minutes. Chill out.”

“Oh,chill out,” I whine. “I don’t know why I wasn’t doing that before! It was the best sex of my life. OfcourseI would get pregnant. Just wheneverythingis finally going right for me.”

I burst into tears, unable to contain myself. She grabs some toilet paper for me to wipe my nose and my eyes with. I need the momentary lapse, and I have to cry. I know it’s been building up, and I know that if I stifle it, it will come back to haunt me at a much worse time, likely when I’m alone. I’m grateful to have my closest companion beside me through the worst rollercoaster ride I’ve ever experienced.

“I’m sorry,” I say to Emma.

“Don’t be, babe,” she tells me. “This is scary. I’m scared for you. But you have to stay tough. Remember who you really are. You’re a bad bitch that doesn’t get conquered by anyone or anything. So what if you’re pregnant? You’ll have a shitty nine months, then you can put the little bastard up for adoption.”

“Emma!”

“Jillian, youknowthere are a lot of women out there who wouldloveto adopt your unborn baby. It’s not a bad thing. You’d be giving some happy person or couple the greatest gift they could ask for.Especiallyif theycan’thave kids. It’s even a blessing that you canhavekids, honey.”

I laugh, shocked that her pep talk somehow works. I’m still crying, but I’m no longer tumbling down an endless chasm. I have a team with me in this darkness, and it is Emma. She is my best friend, and she is proving it.

“We have so much in common,” I say.

“Hell, yeah,” she concurs. “We’re very much alike. We’re cut from the same cloth, as the kids say.”

“You understand me and always give me the best advice,” I continue. “You know I’m not that close with my brother, and I never had a sister.”

“Come on, hon, I know,” she says, taking my hand in hers.

“I need you to tell me what I’m going to do if this test says I’m pregnant. What’s the first thing? The firstfivethings that I do?”

“Right, let’s bring us into reality,” says Emma. “Well, the first thing you’d want to do is see a doctor.”

“What if a doctor can’t see me today?” I worry. “What if I’m not able to make an appointment for like a month? Are there medications I need to be on?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” she says with love. “Don’t worry about medications right now. The doctor will tell you what you need to be on. And the doctor will be able to see you right away, I’m sure. If worse comes to worst, I know we will be able to find a place that would see you tomorrow morning. There are doctorseverywherehere in L.A. We have a lot of choices.”

“That’s good,” I say, feeling sweat collecting on my forehead. “What else? What are other things I need to do?”

She gives me a knowing look, one that conveys “hard truth.”

“You need to decide what you want to do about the baby,” she says. “I say adoption, but hey, no one would judge you for considering getting an abortion. At least,Iwouldn’t judge you. I’d be with you every step of the way if that is something you think you might want.”

“I don’t think I would do that,” I say with assurance. “It’s not for me, I think. I’d rather deliver the baby than abort it.”