in a fluffy towel. “She conceived you in a port-a-potty at the county fair,” I tell the child. “Your dad was a carnie. They were very much in love, but he died in a tragic Tilt-a-Whirl accident.”
The child ignores me, lost in the rapture of tumble-dried terrycloth. I zap the TV off and head to bed, praying I’ll wake up a different person.
Chapter Four
I never knew how many kinds of pregnancy tests there are.
For ten minutes or more I stare at boxes in the crowded downtown drugstore near my work, blocking the family planning aisle with my fistfuls of Christmas shopping bags. Eventually I pick two: a cheaper one of the pink-line, blue-line variety, and a more expensive one with a digital read-out.
I grab a can of soup, knowing I’ll be in no mental shape to cook anything decent when I get home, no matter the outcome. The woman in the next line over casts tactlessly nosy looks at my purchases as I pay. I stick out my tongue at her back as she leaves, and the cashier laughs.
As I’m skirting the snowy Common to get on the red line, I’m so lost in my thoughts I practically knock Noah Aubrey down before he gets my attention.
“Oh God. Sorry, Noah. I was worlds away.”
He smiles his nervous smile. We haven’t spoken since the night of the impromptu threesome, but I feel relieved by the simple fact that he intercepted me when he could just as easily have run off.
“How have you been?” he asks. “You excited for Christmas?” I know what he really wants to know—the exact same thing I do: am I knocked up yet?
“Yeah, I’m officially ready.” I waggle my many bags. “You?”
He nods, chewing his lip. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Just thought I’d say hello.”
“You aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just… I’ve got pregnancy tests in my purse,” I say with a laugh. “They feel like nitroglycerin. I’m just eager to get home and…you know.”
He nods again, for longer than I’ve ever seen a person nod before; then he finally asks, “Do you want a ride? That’s a lot of bags to cram on the subway.”
I think for a minute, not knowing what the right answer is. I haven’t seen Noah in nearly two weeks, and if I’m completely honest, I’ve missed him, in spite of the strange way we parted. After a few seconds’ deliberation, I realize what I’m doing is already a hot mess, so blurring our boundaries for another twenty minutes probably can’t fuck things up much worse.
“Sure, Noah. I’d love that.”
He takes a couple of my bags, and we reroute toward the underground garage. “Aren’t you on break?” I ask.
“Technically. But I came in to view some student films. Hence the shabby clothes.” He gestures to his jeans and sneakers.
“I hate to break it to you, but all the cool professors wear jeans to class.”
He nods, smiling. “Maybe. But I’m still pretty new, so I have to trick my students into respecting me in whatever ways I can… What do you do, anyway? I can’t believe I never bothered to ask you that.”
“I work in the legal department of an architectural firm.” I point in the direction of Chinatown, toward my office. “Zoning laws and permits…very sexy stuff.”
He holds open the door to the underground garage’s vestibule. “You like it?”
“I do. I’ve always liked that kind of law. Especially in Boston. The antiquated, ridonkulous little colonial-throwback rules are fascinating.” We take the elevator down two levels and head to his car.
“Are there law nerds the same way there’s film nerds?” he asks.
“Oh God yeah. I bet any field with minutia to memorize attracts its fair share of know-it-alls.”
Noah unlocks his little hatchback, and we shove my bags into his backseat. I strap myself in, and he starts the car. Unable to resist, I open my purse and take out the expensive test’s box, unfold the instructions. I feel Noah’s eyes on me as we get in line to exit the
The child ignores me, lost in the rapture of tumble-dried terrycloth. I zap the TV off and head to bed, praying I’ll wake up a different person.
Chapter Four
I never knew how many kinds of pregnancy tests there are.
For ten minutes or more I stare at boxes in the crowded downtown drugstore near my work, blocking the family planning aisle with my fistfuls of Christmas shopping bags. Eventually I pick two: a cheaper one of the pink-line, blue-line variety, and a more expensive one with a digital read-out.
I grab a can of soup, knowing I’ll be in no mental shape to cook anything decent when I get home, no matter the outcome. The woman in the next line over casts tactlessly nosy looks at my purchases as I pay. I stick out my tongue at her back as she leaves, and the cashier laughs.
As I’m skirting the snowy Common to get on the red line, I’m so lost in my thoughts I practically knock Noah Aubrey down before he gets my attention.
“Oh God. Sorry, Noah. I was worlds away.”
He smiles his nervous smile. We haven’t spoken since the night of the impromptu threesome, but I feel relieved by the simple fact that he intercepted me when he could just as easily have run off.
“How have you been?” he asks. “You excited for Christmas?” I know what he really wants to know—the exact same thing I do: am I knocked up yet?
“Yeah, I’m officially ready.” I waggle my many bags. “You?”
He nods, chewing his lip. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Just thought I’d say hello.”
“You aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just… I’ve got pregnancy tests in my purse,” I say with a laugh. “They feel like nitroglycerin. I’m just eager to get home and…you know.”
He nods again, for longer than I’ve ever seen a person nod before; then he finally asks, “Do you want a ride? That’s a lot of bags to cram on the subway.”
I think for a minute, not knowing what the right answer is. I haven’t seen Noah in nearly two weeks, and if I’m completely honest, I’ve missed him, in spite of the strange way we parted. After a few seconds’ deliberation, I realize what I’m doing is already a hot mess, so blurring our boundaries for another twenty minutes probably can’t fuck things up much worse.
“Sure, Noah. I’d love that.”
He takes a couple of my bags, and we reroute toward the underground garage. “Aren’t you on break?” I ask.
“Technically. But I came in to view some student films. Hence the shabby clothes.” He gestures to his jeans and sneakers.
“I hate to break it to you, but all the cool professors wear jeans to class.”
He nods, smiling. “Maybe. But I’m still pretty new, so I have to trick my students into respecting me in whatever ways I can… What do you do, anyway? I can’t believe I never bothered to ask you that.”
“I work in the legal department of an architectural firm.” I point in the direction of Chinatown, toward my office. “Zoning laws and permits…very sexy stuff.”
He holds open the door to the underground garage’s vestibule. “You like it?”
“I do. I’ve always liked that kind of law. Especially in Boston. The antiquated, ridonkulous little colonial-throwback rules are fascinating.” We take the elevator down two levels and head to his car.
“Are there law nerds the same way there’s film nerds?” he asks.
“Oh God yeah. I bet any field with minutia to memorize attracts its fair share of know-it-alls.”
Noah unlocks his little hatchback, and we shove my bags into his backseat. I strap myself in, and he starts the car. Unable to resist, I open my purse and take out the expensive test’s box, unfold the instructions. I feel Noah’s eyes on me as we get in line to exit the
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