Page 28 of Text Me A Kiss

Even with his girl begging him, Graham wouldn’t let me slack off so close to such an important event in my life. He knew the value of hard work and perseverance, and he knew that I would rather him deny my selfish little request than feel the guilt that would grip me the second he left and I realized how much time I spent that I couldn’t afford. I loved that about him.

Actually, I was pretty sure that I just loved Graham. If I loved everything about him, isn’t that what that had to mean?

Inside my apartment, I dropped my stuff on the floor in a pile, brushed my teeth and washed up, then fell into bed.

Strangely, I wasn’t thinking about the final tomorrow morning at 11:00 AM that I had agonized over all week. As I drifted off to sleep, thoughts of Graham swirled around my mind like a protective blanket, keeping the worries and cares of the next day at bay.

* * *

My alarm sounded, waking me from a dream. I tried to remember it, but every time I got close, the once-vivid images slipped away. Giving up, I stretched luxuriously, wincing when I rolled over onto my stomach and my breasts angrily reminded me that although they might be modest, I didn’t need to put my full weight on them.

This wasn’t really my full weight, though, and I had my sofa bed and the soft fluffiness of my blanket underneath me. Maybe I was just really sore from dancing.

When I finally managed to drag my ass out of my warm bed, though, I stood naked in front of the mirror, peering at myself and prodding at different parts of my chest. My chest, or at least the muscles that I could have overused, were fine. It was just my breasts that hurt, and it could be my imagination, but they looked a little swollen.

Probably nothing,I tried to convince myself as I typed in my problem to the search bar on my phone. I knew my family had a history of breast cancer, so a quick search to ease my mind wouldn’t hurt. There were probably a thousand other things that could cause minor breast soreness.

Cancer was one word that appeared in several sites located by the search. PMS was another contender.

However, neither of those held my attention. One more word was repeated regularly on sites and forum posts, and every new appearance of the word dug a deeper hole through my stomach.

Pregnancy.

I kept scrolling.

“Swollen breasts—am I pregnant?”

“How long after pregnancy do your breasts get swollen?”

“Ten Early Signs of Pregnancy”

“How To Know If YOU’RE Pregnant”

The alarm I’d only snoozed shrieked at me, reminding me that I didn’t have time to stare at my phone and work myself into a panic.

Somehow, I managed to focus through my final, and the second I finished the last multiple choice question, I turned it in to the professor and took off for the nearest drugstore.

There was no way this was pregnancy. My period for this month was a little late, come to think of it, but only by like a day. I was letting the stress of the week get to me.

But still, I hated to walk around and try to go through my normal routine with any kind of doubt or worry that didn’t need to be there. A couple tests would clear this right up, and I could go back to sheer-force-of-willing my way through this week.

I chose a pack of three tests off the shelf, making sure they were name brand, not the cheaper drugstore brand. If I was going to do this, I would do it right.

“No, go ahead,” I told the elderly woman next to me who had arrived in line at the same time, indicating the open register and waiting employee. “Really, it’s fine.”Really, please go to him so I can go to the next register. You know. Where there’s a woman working?

She didn’t comment on my purchase, but her eyes did linger on them, and I escaped as soon as possible.

Back in the privacy of my apartment, I didn’t even stop to take my stuff out of my pockets. My jeans dropped on the tile floor of the bathroom and I dumped the contents of my plastic bag on the counter. “Let’s see….” I muttered, unfolding paper instructions and turning them right side up.

Two pink lines equals pregnant. Simple enough.

If I didn’t have to leave again in less than an hour, I probably would have sat staring at the instructions forever no matter how “simple” they were. Since I didn’t have time for that, I followed them to a T, left the three tests on the counter, and went to get my stuff together to leave.

I came back and spotted a brown spot on the wall just to the right of the shower. My nails picked at it for a good two minutes before I realized that I was stalling.

Back in Chicago, for Juilliard, in my classes—I had thought ballet took strength. Turned out, ripping my eyes away from that one tiny brown spot to look at those tests was the hardest thing I ever did.

Two pink lines. Two pink lines. A solid line in each little circle.