“Drink,” Natasha said.
I put the glass mindlessly to my lips and washed the terrible taste of bile from my mouth.
“No matter what, you need to get to a doctor,” Natasha said. “Do you have one we can call?”
“I drank last night,” I said with a whisper.
“Fetuses in their early stages are strong. I’m sure everything is okay. But we have to get you to a doctor, Emma.”
“Now?” I asked.
“The sooner, the better,” Catherine said.
I took another sip of water and pulled the towel tightly around my body.
“Okay,” I said.
“Catherine, can you look up the nearest Urgent Care around here?” Natasha asked. “I’ll help Emma get some clothes on.”
“Sure thing. I couldn’t find a sucker, though.”
“That’s fine. We can stop for some ginger candies or something on the way home,” Natasha said.
“Ginger?” I asked.
“It’ll help with your nausea. Trust me. Now come on. Let’s get you in your room, get some clothes on you, and get you in front of a professional.”
“Ryan,” I said with a whisper.
Everyone stopped and turned their eyes towards mine as I finally found my strength.
“What am I going to tell Ryan?” I asked.
Twenty
Emma
I didn’t know what to do. Every time a headache came on and every time I felt as if I could fall asleep at my desk, it was a reminder. I was pregnant with Ryan’s child. I chastised myself every chance I got. How could I have been so stupid? So blinded? So idiotic? The pill never worked one hundred percent of the time. How could I have been so trusting as to put the fate of my body and my future in the hands of a small pill I mostly remembered to take every morning?
Work was hard. Every time I looked at Zoey, I thought about him. Them. The kids and that apartment. The encounters I’d had with her uncle. I wondered if my child would look anything like Zoey since they would all be related. Maybe our child would have Zoey’s eyes. Or hair. Or her soft smile or her quiet demeanor. I put on the bravest face I could, even as Zoey asked me why I hadn’t come by to see her uncle.
To see her and the boys.
Catherine tiptoed around me. She dropped by my classroom more often to check up on me. I told her to stop doing it because people would start to wonder. And the last thing I needed was people talking behind my back. Lawrence Day was filled with children who went and talked to their parents, and they in turn talked to everyone else’s parents. I didn’t need people asking questions or students asking me if I was all right.
What I needed was to make a decision.
“You really should tell him,” Catherine said. “Especially if you’ve chosen to keep the baby.”
“I don’t know anything right now,” I said.
“Wait, so we’re still debating on-?”
“No, we’re not,” I said. “I’m keeping the child. I just don’t know what I’m going to do about that.”
“Okay. Well, at least you’ve made that decision.”
“What am I supposed to tell Ryan, anyway? I ended things with him, Catherine.”