“Come on,” I say, locking the car.
We walk side by side, blinded by the low sun appearing behind the hulking store building. Ellie holds her hand up to shield her eyes, but I focus on the door.
There’s a chance, a very big chance, that I’m going to walk through this door as one kind of man and out of it another kind entirely. I’m an overgrown kid now, still living under our parent’s roof without responsibility for anything other than myself and getting decent enough grades to make something of my life.
If Ellie’s pregnant, I’m going to walk out of here a man with people depending on me.
A woman and a child. My woman and child.
The automatic door whooshes open, and we pass through into the frigid, air-conditioned building. Ellie immediately shivers. “The pharmacy is over here,” I say, pointing at the sign. We make our way past the vast displays of soda and chips that are on offer. The store is quiet, and large stacks of goods wait to be unloaded from steel cages.
The pregnancy tests are in the same aisle as the over-the-counter medicine and supplements; somehow, that doesn’t seem right. It’s not a treatment. It’s not for sale to fix an illness.
Grabbing the smallest box, I check Ellie’s expression.
She’s still clutching her purse like it’s stuffed with bullion.
We make our way to the nearest register, and Ellie hangs back while I take care of everything. After, I walk ahead, leading her to the restrooms where we’ll learn the truth.
I wish I could go in with her. I want to stand outside the stall so that she can feel my presence, but I’m confident that other women using the facilities wouldn’t welcome it.
Holding the door open, I try to come up with something reassuring to say, but I’m lost for words. This feels momentous. Ellie looks into my eyes as she passes, and I hope she sees reassurance rather than fear.
When the door shuts behind her, I press my back against the wall and close my eyes, but not for long. I glance at my watch, working out how long it’ll be before I should expect her to come out. Waiting isn’t something I’m good at. Patience is not my virtue.
I pace for the first minute, knowing she’s probably unwrapped the package and maybe peed on the stick by now. The test we chose provides results in two minutes.
Two fucking minutes. Can’t they produce a test that works faster?
After a minute, the door squeaks open behind me, and I whirl to find Ellie, eyes wide. “Are you okay? Did you do the test?”
She holds out the white plastic stick to me, her face strained. “I couldn’t wait in there alone. I just couldn’t. There’s another minute to go.”
We stare at each other for a second, like two people about to engage in a duel. Then, I decide I don’t give a fuck about how defensive Ellie’s body language is. I need her close to me. I need her to feel how much I love her.
Love is such a tiny word, but it holds the greatest significance.
I’ve denied the depth of my feelings for this girl for so long because they weren’t reciprocated, and maybe they’re still not, but I don’t care anymore.
When I throw my arm around Ellie’s slight frame, she’s rigid for a second, but then collapses into my chest. I hold her close, whispering that everything’s going to be fine because I believe it will be. She’s the girl I love, and we may or may not be having a child. Our circumstances aren’t the easiest, but people have gone through a lot worse.
Seconds pass, but it’s like we’re wading through water as time slows by the magnitude of the result we’re waiting for.
“Is it ready?” she asks softly.
Looking at my watch, I calculate there are another thirty seconds. “Not long now,” I murmur against her strawberry-scented hair.
A tired-looking man dressed in a security uniform passes us, staring at the odd picture we make. He disappears into the men’s restroom, and then we’re alone again. I should look now. I should be brave enough to find out, but I wait another ten seconds just to be sure. Then, with the girl I love curled in my arms, her face pressed to my heart, I finally raise the pregnancy test so I can see the result.
It’s positive.
My heart skitters and then thuds, racing too fast and then pausing with the momentousness of the result.
“It’s positive, isn’t it?” Ellie says without raising her head. “I can tell. You went really still.”
“It’s positive, honey,” I say.
“What are we going to do?” she whispers softly.
“We’re going to get in the car and go home, and then we’re going to talk to Seb and Micky about what you want to do next. But I need you to know that whatever you decide, you’re our girl. We’ll always be next to you through thick and thin.”