Wrong
Page 48
"What are you doing, Sophie?" Luke is suddenly beside me, digging into my purse.
"Relax, I'm ready." I didn't take that long. He has no appreciation for how fast I am.
"With these, Sophie," he says, holding up my birth control pills. "What are you doing with these?" He looks pissed.
I stare at the pack in his hand. I haven't missed any, I take them every morning. "I always take them in the morning, Luke, same time every day." I shrug. "Well, within an hour or two."
He stares at me for a second before tossing the pills onto the counter. The pack whips across the surface before hitting the wall and ricocheting into the sink. He turns around and walks to the bathroom door, gripping the door frame for a second before turning back to face me.
"Sophie, you're pregnant."
Chapter 32
There's dead silence then. I feel a moment of absolute nothing before my mind starts racing at warp speed. We stare at each other, Luke watching my reaction, my face giving away a myriad of feelings all at once.
"What?"
He doesn't respond, just keeps watching me.
"I'm not." I shake my head. "I take my pills every day. Every single day. I haven't been on any antibiotics." I shake my head again. "No, no, I'm not, Luke."
He looks sad as he leans against the bathroom doorway. "We did a blood test before taking a CT scan of your head while you were in the hospital. And we confirmed it with an ultrasound."
"You've known this for a week?" I'm feeling semi-hysterical right now and I'm sure I sound it.
"I thought you must know," he says slowly, "and I wanted to give you the chance to tell me yourself."
I grab my purse and push past him in the doorway on my way to my closet. I grab a bag and start tossing things into it randomly.
"What are you doing, Sophie?" Luke is blocking the door to the closet, watching me.
"I'm leaving," I tell him. I'm trying so hard not to cry, tears are threatening to fall and I blink my eyes trying to stop them. "I'm going home, where I'm not pregnant." God, that doesn't even make sense. I sling the bag over my shoulder and turn to face him in the doorway, but I can't meet his eyes. I have to get out of here before I lose it. "Please move, Luke," I say, staring at his chest.
There's a pause and then he steps back and I bolt past him.
"Sophie," he calls out after me, but I don't stop and the front door slams behind me as I flee.
I'm not pregnant. He doesn't know everything. I need to pee on a stick. I am not pregnant. These thoughts bounce around my head as I take the elevator to the lobby and refuse the town car the doorman tries to place me in. I take off down 18th Street. There's a CVS around the corner on Chestnut. I hustle down the sidewalk, intent on getting a pregnancy test.
I walk around CVS in a daze. Where are the pregnancy tests? I've never needed one before. I find them in the feminine care aisle, tampons and pregnancy tests all in one spot. Seems ironic since you only need one or the other.
Okay, pregnancy tests. I scan the row. Why are there choices? Will one choice make me less pregnant? Don't they all do the same thing? I feel panicky, I need to get out of here, but which test do I choose? I take three of them and walk to the checkout.
The cashier scans them and asks if I want a bag. Why wouldn't I want a bag? Am I supposed to take them into the back room and pee on them here? I stare at her name tag. Holly. Maybe I'm pregnant with a girl and we'll name her Holly. Holly Miller. I lose the battle with the tears then and they streak down my face. I don't want a baby named Holly.
"So I'll just put these in a bag then," the cashier says as I swipe my card. "With your receipt," she adds, as if asking me if I would like the receipt in the bag will push me over the edge. I'm clearly not capable of answering the tough questions right now.
I grab the bag and walk down Chestnut in the direction of campus. I have no idea what I'm doing. There's a Dunkin' Donuts ahead on my right and I push the door open and walk in.
I stand staring at the menu board until someone behind me asks if I'm in line. I shake my head and tell them to go ahead, then skip the line altogether and lock myself into the bathroom. I open all the boxes and skip the directions. Pee on the stick, wait. Look for a plus sign or double lines, got it. I finish and shove them all into one box and then into my purse and exit the bathroom.
I stare at the menu board again. I should have a donut. That's the normal thing to do while waiting for a pregnancy test, right? Has it been three minutes? The pregnancy tests are in my bag, waiting, while I look at donuts. Cream-filled? Jelly? Oh, look, they have heart-shaped donuts for Valentine's Day.
What kind of idiot has to be told they're pregnant by their boyfriend? I keep picturing Luke's face as I order two jelly-filled donuts and one of the heart-shaped ones with pink frosting. I add an orange juice. The smell of the coffee is almost ruining my desire for the donuts.
I probably can't have coffee anymore anyway. Stupid baby. I slide the orange juice in my coat pocket and continue walking down Chestnut while I shove a jelly donut in my mouth.
I walk and walk and walk. I reach the Schuylkill and realize I can cross the bridge on foot. Might as well just walk all the way home. Luke's penthouse condo is ridiculously close to my dorm room really. Forty-five minutes on foot, tops, less than fifteen by car. But we're worlds apart, aren't we?
He looked so disappointed when he said I was pregnant. Oh, God. I want to throw up, and not because of hormones. How many times did he lecture me about birth control? I think back to the very beginning, in the clinic when I was his patient. Using condoms just because I threw up a couple of times when I was hungover, the birth control refills that were handed to me.
I've become my mother, but worse. My father didn't care he was being used to father children he had no interest in. Luke cares.
I dump the empty orange juice bottle into a trash can and yank open my purse and dump the pregnancy tests as well. I don't need them. It's not like Luke of all people doesn't know what he's doing. My denial is quickly fading, replaced by anger. This is not what I had planned.
I turn right onto Spruce and see Luke leaning against his big stupid SUV in front of Jacobsen Hall. We make eye contact briefly as I approach and he nods but doesn't attempt to talk to me. I cannot believe he knocked me up. Jerk.
"Relax, I'm ready." I didn't take that long. He has no appreciation for how fast I am.
"With these, Sophie," he says, holding up my birth control pills. "What are you doing with these?" He looks pissed.
I stare at the pack in his hand. I haven't missed any, I take them every morning. "I always take them in the morning, Luke, same time every day." I shrug. "Well, within an hour or two."
He stares at me for a second before tossing the pills onto the counter. The pack whips across the surface before hitting the wall and ricocheting into the sink. He turns around and walks to the bathroom door, gripping the door frame for a second before turning back to face me.
"Sophie, you're pregnant."
Chapter 32
There's dead silence then. I feel a moment of absolute nothing before my mind starts racing at warp speed. We stare at each other, Luke watching my reaction, my face giving away a myriad of feelings all at once.
"What?"
He doesn't respond, just keeps watching me.
"I'm not." I shake my head. "I take my pills every day. Every single day. I haven't been on any antibiotics." I shake my head again. "No, no, I'm not, Luke."
He looks sad as he leans against the bathroom doorway. "We did a blood test before taking a CT scan of your head while you were in the hospital. And we confirmed it with an ultrasound."
"You've known this for a week?" I'm feeling semi-hysterical right now and I'm sure I sound it.
"I thought you must know," he says slowly, "and I wanted to give you the chance to tell me yourself."
I grab my purse and push past him in the doorway on my way to my closet. I grab a bag and start tossing things into it randomly.
"What are you doing, Sophie?" Luke is blocking the door to the closet, watching me.
"I'm leaving," I tell him. I'm trying so hard not to cry, tears are threatening to fall and I blink my eyes trying to stop them. "I'm going home, where I'm not pregnant." God, that doesn't even make sense. I sling the bag over my shoulder and turn to face him in the doorway, but I can't meet his eyes. I have to get out of here before I lose it. "Please move, Luke," I say, staring at his chest.
There's a pause and then he steps back and I bolt past him.
"Sophie," he calls out after me, but I don't stop and the front door slams behind me as I flee.
I'm not pregnant. He doesn't know everything. I need to pee on a stick. I am not pregnant. These thoughts bounce around my head as I take the elevator to the lobby and refuse the town car the doorman tries to place me in. I take off down 18th Street. There's a CVS around the corner on Chestnut. I hustle down the sidewalk, intent on getting a pregnancy test.
I walk around CVS in a daze. Where are the pregnancy tests? I've never needed one before. I find them in the feminine care aisle, tampons and pregnancy tests all in one spot. Seems ironic since you only need one or the other.
Okay, pregnancy tests. I scan the row. Why are there choices? Will one choice make me less pregnant? Don't they all do the same thing? I feel panicky, I need to get out of here, but which test do I choose? I take three of them and walk to the checkout.
The cashier scans them and asks if I want a bag. Why wouldn't I want a bag? Am I supposed to take them into the back room and pee on them here? I stare at her name tag. Holly. Maybe I'm pregnant with a girl and we'll name her Holly. Holly Miller. I lose the battle with the tears then and they streak down my face. I don't want a baby named Holly.
"So I'll just put these in a bag then," the cashier says as I swipe my card. "With your receipt," she adds, as if asking me if I would like the receipt in the bag will push me over the edge. I'm clearly not capable of answering the tough questions right now.
I grab the bag and walk down Chestnut in the direction of campus. I have no idea what I'm doing. There's a Dunkin' Donuts ahead on my right and I push the door open and walk in.
I stand staring at the menu board until someone behind me asks if I'm in line. I shake my head and tell them to go ahead, then skip the line altogether and lock myself into the bathroom. I open all the boxes and skip the directions. Pee on the stick, wait. Look for a plus sign or double lines, got it. I finish and shove them all into one box and then into my purse and exit the bathroom.
I stare at the menu board again. I should have a donut. That's the normal thing to do while waiting for a pregnancy test, right? Has it been three minutes? The pregnancy tests are in my bag, waiting, while I look at donuts. Cream-filled? Jelly? Oh, look, they have heart-shaped donuts for Valentine's Day.
What kind of idiot has to be told they're pregnant by their boyfriend? I keep picturing Luke's face as I order two jelly-filled donuts and one of the heart-shaped ones with pink frosting. I add an orange juice. The smell of the coffee is almost ruining my desire for the donuts.
I probably can't have coffee anymore anyway. Stupid baby. I slide the orange juice in my coat pocket and continue walking down Chestnut while I shove a jelly donut in my mouth.
I walk and walk and walk. I reach the Schuylkill and realize I can cross the bridge on foot. Might as well just walk all the way home. Luke's penthouse condo is ridiculously close to my dorm room really. Forty-five minutes on foot, tops, less than fifteen by car. But we're worlds apart, aren't we?
He looked so disappointed when he said I was pregnant. Oh, God. I want to throw up, and not because of hormones. How many times did he lecture me about birth control? I think back to the very beginning, in the clinic when I was his patient. Using condoms just because I threw up a couple of times when I was hungover, the birth control refills that were handed to me.
I've become my mother, but worse. My father didn't care he was being used to father children he had no interest in. Luke cares.
I dump the empty orange juice bottle into a trash can and yank open my purse and dump the pregnancy tests as well. I don't need them. It's not like Luke of all people doesn't know what he's doing. My denial is quickly fading, replaced by anger. This is not what I had planned.
I turn right onto Spruce and see Luke leaning against his big stupid SUV in front of Jacobsen Hall. We make eye contact briefly as I approach and he nods but doesn't attempt to talk to me. I cannot believe he knocked me up. Jerk.
