Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“As real as can be.” I put her back down on her feet. “I know I should have called,” I start to say but then look down beside my foot, seeing the white stick with the purple cap looking up at me. That’s not a wand, that’s a pregnancy test. I look down at it and then look back up at Zara, my body bending to pick it up. “Um,” I say, looking at the two lines down the front. “Sweetheart?”
Her eyes go big. “Surprise,” she utters softly but then puts both hands at the side of her head.
“Is this?” I look at her and then the test, my body in shock. “Are you?”
“Pregnant,” she finishes the question for me. “According to that one”—she points at the test—“I think so.” She bends to pick up the paper that I heard behind me and holds it up. “But I have to check the other two.” She turns around and bolts from the door. My body is cemented to the middle of her entrance as I hear her boots click down somewhere in her house.
I swallow down the lump in my throat, feeling the back of my neck tingle. “Pregnant.” There is an echo in my ears, and I listen to the clicking of her boots coming closer and closer to me.
She reappears. “This one has a plus sign.” She holds up her right hand. “And this one says pregnant.” She holds up her left hand. She tries to swallow but then looks at me, her face going pale. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She drops both of them as she turns and runs away from me. I put the stick down on the table by the door, following her in the house, where I hear her dry heaving.
“Zara,” I call to her as I walk down the hallway.
“Don’t come in here!” she shouts before she dry heaves again. I obviously don’t listen to her as I walk into the bathroom. She is on her knees in front of the toilet. “I told you not to come in here.” She turns her head to the side to look at me.
“The door was open, so I could literally stand in the hall and still see you.”
“Well then, close the door,” she hisses before she closes her eyes and breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth.
I look around, turning on the faucet before finding a facecloth and wetting it. I wring the water out of it before handing it to her. “Place that on the back of your neck,” I tell her, and she moves her hair to the side and places it on the back of her neck.
“Have you eaten today?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“I ate this morning, but I felt nauseated after two bites, so I gave up.” She gets up from the floor, flushing the toilet. “Can I have a minute?” she asks, then looks at herself in the mirror. “Good God, I look—”
“You look just as beautiful, if not more beautiful, than the first time I laid eyes on you and felt the earth shift under my feet,” I tell her, and she comes over and puts her forehead in the middle of my chest.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” She looks up at me.
“How about you take a minute, and I’ll go and get you something to drink?” I suggest to her, and she nods. I bend down, kissing her neck before leaving her alone. I hear the water turn on as I walk down the hall in search of the kitchen.
Finally finding it after walking into the living room and thinking maybe it opens up to the kitchen, but I have to go past the staircase and around it. I spot flowers on the counter and try not to let them get to me. I haven’t spoken to her in six weeks, anything could have happened. Fighting back the need to take the flowers and throw them out the front door into the street, I open her fridge, finding it almost bare, containing just a couple of takeout containers. I then go to the pantry to see if she has any saltine crackers but coming up empty. I walk back out, grabbing a bottle of water at least, and head to find her. “Sweetheart,” I call for her.
“On the couch,” she mumbles as I walk by it and then look into the room. She is sitting with her side to the back of the couch, laying her head down on it.
“I couldn’t find—” I walk around the couch to sit next to her. Her boots are kicked off, and she is under a throw blanket. “Well, anything,” I say, and she laughs. “So I brought you a bottle of water.”
She smiles at me, grabbing the bottle from my hand. “Thank you.” She opens the top and takes a couple of sips.