Chapter 9

Caroline turned over, snuggling deeper into the pillows. Sleepily, she realized what had woken her so early. Rustling noises were coming from her bathroom.

     “Who’s in there?” she said crossly, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

     “It’s Brie. I need a tampon and Dinah was out so I thought I’d get one of yours,” replied a muffled voice. “But I’ve taken everything out from under the sink and I still can’t find any.”

     “Did you ever think about buying your own? Oh, and not going through other people’s stuff? Or is the concept of personal property to complex for your tiny brain?”

     “Wow.” Brie walked slowly out of the bathroom and headed for the hallway. “That was kind of harsh. I may not be as smart as you, with an English degree and all, and I’m sorry I went in your room without asking, but you don’t have to be so mean.”

     “Well, I guess y’all have taught me to be a real New Yorker,” Caroline retorted, but Brie was already gone. If I’ve become a bitch, she thought, it’s not my fault. I’m just following their example. But she ducked under the covers, remembering the hurt look in Brie’s eyes. Fine, she thought, must try to be nicer, even to roommates. Also, buy tampons. Can pick some up at Duane Reade. Wonder if they carry my kind? She tucked her patchy-furred stuffed rabbit more firmly under her chin. Will check tomorrow. Weird I don’t have any in stock. I know I didn’t bring any with me… Her eyes flew open. “Wait a freakin second,” she said out loud. “If I didn’t bring any with me and I haven’t bought any since I’ve been here…” She threw herself out of bed towards the desk, tripping over her jeans on the way.

     Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Where’s the calendar? Fuck.

     She opened the little pocket calendar to September, looking for little x marking the start of her last period. Ok, nothing this month, but maybe it’s just late, maybe last month was late and it’s throwing me off… She flipped back a month, scanning the weeks frantically. She turned back another page, almost tearing it. Fuck. There it was. The last x. In June.

     I haven’t had a period in three months, Caroline said, questioningly? Her voice quavered and then grew stronger as she yelled to her empty room, “How the hell did I not notice?” She sat down hard in the desk chair. “This has to be a mistake. It has to be. If it’s not…” she trailed off. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the wall, Caroline shook herself, “Ok, enough! There’s only one way to be sure and maybe I’ll find out this is all a big mistake.” Yeah, maybe I’m in menopause, she thought hopefully.

     This being the big City, there was a drugstore every block. Caroline passed the Duane Reade on her corner. I don’t need them looking at me funny next time I buy shampoo, she justified to herself. She passed the CVS on the next block and the Eckerd’s on the block after that. Maybe I’ll just walk around for a while, she thought, no need to rush this. And then I could throw myself down a flight of stairs. Shit. Not pausing to think herself out of it, Caroline threw herself in the doors of the next Duane Reade, almost getting smacked by the slow opening automatic doors.

     It didn’t take long to find the pregnancy tests; they were right next to the condoms. Caroline examined the shelves. Damn, these are expensive, she thought, and I have no idea which kind I want. Well, I don’t want any of them. But…oh, this one says ‘accurate as soon as five days after your missed period.’ That sounds good. I wonder how accurate it is three months after your missed period. She could feel the giggles coming and knew she wouldn’t be able to stop if she started. Light-headed, she leaned against the display for a second. “I’ll just get the cheapest one,” she decided, “then I can blame the result in shoddy workmanship.” Or on shoddy condoms, she added.

     The walk home didn’t take nearly as long as Caroline would’ve liked and soon she was back in her bathroom, reading the package directions. “Ok,” she muttered, “so basically, remove cap, pee on stick, wait three minutes. Why can’t they just say that?”

     After pacing and checking her watch for the tenth time, Caroline grabbed the box and changed “three minutes” to “an eternity.” “There,” she said, “truth in advertising.”  She dropped the box as her watch alarm dinged. Now just the truth, she thought. She picked the stick up slowly…come on, one line, one line. I promise I will never have sex again…

…

Crap.