I zombie-walk into the living room, my tongue filling my mouth like it’s too big while my gag reflex is twitching with the urge to puke again. I close my eyes and swallow hard, trying to get a hold of myself. Slowly opening my eyes, I spot Tyler putting groceries away. I don’t live here, but I visit often. I moved out of the house when I was young. I couldn’t stand my father punching me in the face anymore so I said fuck it and bolted. I have learned to handle things on my own, and not expect others to do things for me. Tyler offered our old trailer to me once our dad moved out. He found some butch-looking woman who drove a Mac truck and ran off with her. Good riddance. I took the trailer ‘cause living in a shelter sucks, and I was done spending sweltering nights in my car. But, I hate that fucking trailer. It brings back too many memories.
“Damn, Lindsay, you look like shit,” Tyler states, putting some cereal in a cupboard.
“I feel like shit,” I groan, plopping on the couch. I can’t stand this couch. The material feels like old yarn, and it’s rough and itchy against my skin.
“How long have you been sick?” Tyler questions. I turn in my seat and look at him. His hair is dyed black, with some blue and red streaks through it. Piercings in his eye and nose shine with the sun coming through the blinds. He looks like a punk.
I shrug. “About two weeks.”
Tyler shakes his head. “You got a fever?”
“Nah, no fever. Just tired and feel like throwing up. I can’t shit, either.” I lay my head down on the couch and yawn.
“You pregnant?”
My eyes snap open in panic. I sit up and look over the couch, leveling Tyler with a look of dread.
“You better go get a test. Then tell me the fucker you screwed so I can tear his nuts off.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, throwing my head into my hands.
“I got one in the bathroom. Go piss on it. Now!” Tyler points to his bedroom that holds a private bathroom. I tilt my head to the side and squint my eyes.
“Why do you have—”
“This chick I was fucking thought she was knocked up. I bought the whole damn shelf,” he informs. I roll my eyes. That doesn’t surprise me. Tyler is a player when it comes to girls.
I find the test under the sink and piss on it quickly. Setting it on the counter, I turn, waiting for it to show a plus or negative sign.
“What’s it say?” Tyler mumbles from the other side of the door.
“I can’t look,” I mutter, not sure if he even heard me. I can’t look at it ‘cause I know what it will say. It’ll say I’m pregnant. Pregnant with Eric McCormick’s child.
Tyler pushes into the bathroom. My back is still turned and I’m facing the tub, the test sitting on the sink behind me. I hear him sigh loudly, and with that exhale, my heart literally sinks into the pit of my stomach.
“You’re pregnant.”
“No,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. He grabs me and engulfs me in his arms. I sob ‘cause I’m too young to be a mother. I cry because Eric McCormick would be a shittier dad than I would a mom.
“Shhh. It’s okay. You can do this, Lindsay,” my brother comforts. This is why I love him. Granted, growing up we did the typical brother and sister shenanigans—he’d destroy my Barbies, and I would annoy him and his friends. But we always had each other’s back. My mother left when I was a baby; being a mother just wasn’t her forte, I guess. Our father became a drunk when I was around the age of six and was nonexistent unless he was out of beer, which was when he was at his worst. My presence alone angered him; I think I reminded him of my mother. Tyler stepped in front of my father a few times, when our dad would get rough with me. It granted Tyler a broken arm once.
“Tell me, whose is it?” Tyler pushes me an arm’s length away and searches my face. I bite my bottom lip, tears sliding down my cheeks.
“Eric’s,” I mutter, looking down.
“Fucking seriously, Lindsay?” Tyler knows how much of a hard time Eric gave me in high school.
“What can I say, I like the challenge. Bad boys.” I shrug.
“Goddamn boy is about right!” Tyler hollers. He turns and shoves his hand through his hair angrily before lowering his head. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from the bad boys, Lindsay. They’re nothing but assholes who will just hurt you in the end.” I cross my arms as a barrier to protect myself. Seeing Tyler disappointed stings.
“You didn’t use any,” he pauses, still not looking at me, “protection or anything?”
Wow, this is very embarrassing.
“We were really drunk,” I explain. Tyler winces, like I just gave him a mental image.
“Look.” Tyler glances up at me with dark eyes. “Go find that piece of shit, and tell him. Maybe he’ll step up.” Tyler shrugs. I roll my eyes and scoff. “Do it, Lindsay,” Tyler’s voice comes out bitter.
I roll my eyes and grab the pregnancy test off the counter. How do I begin to tell a one-night stand that I’m pregnant?
***
Standing on the porch of Eric’s house, my body trembles with the amount of adrenaline surfing through my veins. Fear wracks my kneecaps, and my fingers clench the pregnancy stick in my hand. Eric lives in the same trailer park I grew up in as a kid, so basically he’s my neighbor. His father built this two-story house at the end of the park and gave it to Eric just recently. Told him to watch over the trailer park while his father and stepmom traveled the world. He’s my landlord, in short.