10
Bliss
WE STOPPED AT a small store that was just a little bigger than a convenience store. It had food and toiletries and a random assortment of items, but the pharmacy in back was my concern.
“Would you mind grabbing me a drink?” I asked. “I’m going to run to the bathroom, grab that medicine, and I’ll meet you back up here.”
I didn’t wait for Garrick to agree before I turned to walk away. I headed for the pharmacy at a stroll, glancing behind me to see when he was no longer looking. When he turned, I picked up the pace and began scouring the shelves for pregnancy tests. It took me three tries to find the right aisle, and then all I could do was just stare at the display.
Why did there have to be so many?
There were brand names and off brands, digital and sticks and cups, one lines and two lines and plus signs and the signs of the apocalypse.
And oh God, why was this so terrifying?
Maybe I should just get one of each.
Then I looked at the price.
Eh . . . probably just one would do for now.
I grabbed the stick one with the plus sign, and bolted for the pharmacy counter at the back. An Indian guy in glasses was typing away at the computer.
“Excuse me?” He looked up. “Can I check out here?”
“No ma’am. Cashier is up front.”
Fabulous.
I grabbed a couple other things. Ibuprofen and sunscreen and a box of tampons (wishful thinking). I gathered all the items in my arms, hiding the pregnancy test behind them all. Then I went to the front to meet Garrick.
He stood holding a bottle of Coke, smiling and perfect, and God, I wanted to tell him. But his comment about kids earlier had my head all twisted. I’d thought about telling him then, but then he’d been so insistent that it was a joke that I started to worry that he would freak out. I mean, why wouldn’t he? We’d only been together a year. We were just about to get married. There were probably prison cells roomier than our apartment.
I waited until it was our turn to check out and then I turned to him and said, “Oh honey, I’m sorry. Would you mind switching that out for a water instead? Or maybe juice? I just think that would be better for my stomach.”
As soon as he was gone, I dumped all of my things on the counter and thrust the pregnancy test at the cashier.
“Can you ring this up first?”
The girl on the register was blond, couldn’t be much older than sixteen, and she laughed at me. Actually laughed at me.
“Look, I realize this is crazy. But please. Just do it quick.”
She shrugged and said, “He’s going to notice sooner or later.”
I so did not need attitude right now.
She scanned the test, and I shoved it in my purse just as Garrick came around the corner. He set the water on the counter, and then scanned my things.
“I thought you were getting medicine?”
Excuse me, sassy checkout girl, could I borrow your register for a moment to smash against my face?
I picked up the bottle of ibuprofen and shook it.
“I’ve been having headaches, and I think that’s what caused the nausea.”
The girl snickered when I said nausea. It probably didn’t bode well for my future as a mother that I really wanted to punch this teenager.
Garrick took the bag from her as I paid and carried it outside for me. On the sidewalk, he said, “You could have told me. I’m not that naive.”
I choked on the sip of water I had just taken and said, “What?”
He held up the bag, and I could see the box of tampons through the semi-transparent plastic. “This? The painkillers? You could have just said you were having your monthly.”
Only I could suffer the humiliation of discussing a nonexistent period with my boyfriend.
“Oh, I’m not. No, these are just . . .” I totally blanked. “It was on sale.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So you decided to buy it now?”
I was going to look into a career as a mime. Because that appeared to be the only way I was going to stop saying stupid things.
I took the shopping bag back and stuffed it in my giant purse. “How close are we to this Eye thing?” I asked.
We turned a corner, and he pointed up ahead to a giant white Ferris wheel. “Very close.”
Glad for the change in subject, I listened to him explain that the Eye had been built while he was in school, and that on New Year’s they actually fired off fireworks from the Eye itself. He explained that we’d board one of the pods while the structure was still moving, albeit very slowly.
We had to wait in line for a little while, but since it was a weekday it wasn’t too bad. With our fingers laced together, we stepped to the front of the line, the first people to board the next pod.
Another ten to fifteen people boarded with us, and we found a spot at the window that would give us a good vantage point as the wheel continued its slow rotation upward. Garrick said one revolution was about thirty minutes, so I held on to the bar and he wrapped his arms around my waist. He placed his cheek against mine, and together we watched the city become smaller and smaller as we were pulled up into the sky.
The Thames twisted along beside us, steeples and skyscrapers punctured the clear blue day, and little dots of people moved below us in the distance. Up here they looked remarkably small, and there were so many. Some were in line for the Eye, others hustled along the busy streets. I could imagine each one of them wrapped up in their thoughts, contemplating their dreams, falling in love, getting news that changed their entire world.
In life, it’s so easy to get tunnel vision, to imagine this world is a movie set and your story—what you see through your eyes and think with your brain and feel with your heart—is the only thing that matters. But the world was so much bigger than that. Life was so much bigger than that. Sometimes, I couldn’t understand how it could hold all of us, all of the hope and hurt of humanity.
It was just as remarkable to think about the fact that at this very second, a new life could be forming inside of me. I didn’t understand how I could hold that, either, how I could have another person who would be entirely dependent on me. The camera of my life was very focused. There was Garrick, of course, but both of us were concentrated on our careers, on establishing ourselves. But if we had a baby that would change everything for both of us. Our lens would have to refocus, adjust. It couldn’t just be about us anymore.
I could feel the warmth of Garrick’s hand against my belly through my thin shirt, and thought . . . the responsibility wouldn’t be entirely on me. Yes, Garrick was a guy, and yes, most of them were terrified of commitment and babies and all those kinds of things. But he was different. This was a man that would hold my bag of tampons without any complaint, a man that didn’t get angry when I stopped him right before sex, and a man that loved me and cherished me despite all my oddities and issues.
He interrupted my thoughts to point out the window. “Over there, that’s where we were this morning. That’s the church we walked by. And that way is my parents’ place. You can also see the primary school I attended there. Graham and I were in trouble almost every day. Our mums threatened to send us both to boarding school.”
It was the worst transition in the history of the world, but I looked over my shoulder at him and blurted out, “I bought a pregnancy test.”
“What?” He didn’t say it like he was shocked or horrified. More like when someone just didn’t quite hear what you said.
So I continued, “At the pharmacy. I was being weird and sending you off to get drinks because I was buying a pregnancy test, and I was scared to tell you.”
That time I got a reaction.
His hands dropped from their spot on my stomach, and he moved to lean on the bar beside me. His eyes searched my face, and I thought the silence would kill me, tie my windpipe into a pretty little bow, and suffocate my brain.
“Say something.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out for several long seconds until, “You’re pregnant?”
Okay. Correction. Say something that actually gives me a clue as to how you’re going to react.
“I don’t know. I’m late. I think. It could be nothing. ”
“Or it could be something.”
Damn it, why couldn’t I read his inflection?
“It could be. Because . . . well . . . I forgot to refill my prescription. For the Pill. Things got busy, and it slipped my mind. It’s still so new to me, and I—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I was going to go crazy if he didn’t say something more definitive soon. I sighed and looked out at the city. We’d just reached the peak of the wheel, and the pod gave a panorama view of the city. I gripped the bar that kept people back from the glass and said, “I was scared. The thought of having a kid is scary. I still feel like a kid myself sometimes. And we both work so much, our apartment is tiny, we live in this huge, sometimes dangerous city that we can barely afford already, and we’ve not really talked about having kids. When they do get mentioned it’s this vague, far-off thing in the future, and I didn’t know how you would feel. So I was going to wait until I knew for sure. Or until I could get home to look at my calendar.”
“But?”
My breathing was too loud in my ears, almost deafening. “But I didn’t want to be scared alone.”
His hands cradled my face, and he touched his forehead to mine. My breath hitched. He said, “You don’t ever have to be.”
I let out a small sob and held tight to him. He lowered one hand to my waist, his thumb brushing over my belly.
“Do you think . . . Do you feel like you are?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I can’t tell. I’m exhausted, but that could just be jet lag. I’m emotional, but that could be because I’m a social cripple who breaks expensive vases as a first impression. And I did get sick yesterday, but only once, so that could have just been the fatigue and shock.”
He nodded, this time slipping his hand beneath my shirt to touch my stomach.
“If I am . . .”
“Then everything will be okay. All of those things you said are true, but we’ll be okay. You will be an extraordinary mother, and we’ll do whatever it takes to take care of our child.” He smiled and shook his head, “Our child. Wow. That’s what’s was bothering you yesterday?”
I nodded, and he exhaled in relief. That was a good thing, right?
“Does that mean you’re okay with this?” My heart was skipping.
“It means I love you and want to marry you and call you the mother of my child. It doesn’t matter to me what order it happens in.”
I leaned my head down against his chest, and suddenly the weight of my body felt like too much. His hand slid around to my back, and he pulled me in until my stomach pressed against his. I let him support more of my weight and said, “We do have a tendency to do things out of order.”
“The world has given us plenty of surprises, but each one has turned out better than the last. I have no doubt that this will be the same.”
He lifted my head up and caught my lips in a kiss.
We spent the rest of the ride ignoring the skyline for each other, and by the time the pod let us off back on solid earth, a really small part of me was actually beginning to hope for that plus sign.