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“It’s not a baby. It’s a parasite.”

I gasped and watched him shudder.

“A
parasite
?” I whispered.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He eyed me carefully. “Cadence? I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean to be offensive.”

“Why would you say something like that? What’s wrong with you?”

I’d never seen that look on Mr. Connelly’s face, and I prayed I’d never see it again. I thought he could slice my body in two with his eyes. They were daggers, and they were pointed at me.

“Don’t insinuate I’m some fucking asshole. You don’t know my past,” he said.

I was shocked and stared at him for several minutes. He stared back, but his eyes were softer now, and I wasn’t afraid of them.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Cadence, I don’t wanna talk about this right now. You’ll come to my apartment after school, and we’ll . . . go from there.”

I couldn’t stomach his lack of emotions. I was a mess, and he was sitting at his desk about to grade another math test.

“What happened in your past?” I demanded.

“It’s not your business, Cadence.”

“The hell it’s not! I’m your girlfriend!”

“I’m not discussing it with you.”

“Stop talking down to me like I’m a child!”

“I’m not.”

“Stop acting like you’re in control! I know you’re freaking out as much as I am!” I screamed.

“I am!” he shouted, then looked around the room. He took a deep breath. “There’s nothing we can do about it here. We don’t know if you’re pregnant. There’s no sense in worrying about it.”

“How can I not?” I cried.

“Because we don’t have any other options right now!”

I took a step back, my head spinning. Fear and anger consumed me, and the only way I knew to deal with it was to lash out at him. “You won’t be there, will you? If I’m pregnant. You won’t be there.”

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he growled. “I will always be there, whatever happens.”

He jumped up from his chair and came at me. It was instinctual to flinch when he grabbed me, though I’m not sure why. He’d never done anything in the past to hurt me, even when he took me by force in the closet. He wrapped his arms around me, crushing me to his chest, and I cried as hard as I could all over his shirt while he stroked my hair and shushed me.

“It’ll be okay, Cadence,” he said tenderly, and kissed my head. He leaned over and murmured in my ear, “We’ll be okay.”

I smiled into his shirt and clung to him. I knew in a few seconds he would let go—he’d have to—but I wanted to trick myself into believing he would hold me forever. He smelled safe. He felt warm. He was strong and tall and in control. I believed him when he said he’d always be there. I knew it even before I challenged him, but I had to challenge him to make sure. I needed it said out loud.

“I will always be there, whatever happens.”

***

I’m pragmatic only about certain things. It’s not part of my genetic design unless it has to do with hair or make-up products. And as I learned this afternoon, which pregnancy test is right for me.

“Cadence,” Mark said patiently. “Please choose one.” He looked around the Walgreens, but no one we knew was here.

We drove together to a pharmacy across town. I told him I could just stop on the way to his apartment, but he insisted on coming. He didn’t want me to be alone. He kept saying that over and over, and it was starting to annoy me.

“Well, I’m just deciding if I’d rather read lines or actual words,” I said, holding up two tests and comparing the pictures. That was important to me, too. If the graphics looked cheesy and cheap, I didn’t trust it.

“Darling, this is a perfect one,” Mark said, pointing to the test in my left hand. “But get both. Take two tests to be sure.”

“Did you just call me ‘darling’?” I asked.

“Focus, Cadence.”

“‘Darling’? Like what really old people call each other?” I asked. “Or rich people. I can totally hear rich people calling each other ‘darling’.”

Mark rolled his eyes and snatched both tests from my hands, walking to the checkout. I quickly followed.

The girl behind the register grinned as she scanned the items. She looked like she was dying to say something, and when Mark smiled politely at her, she took it as an invitation.

“Oh my God. I so love when couples come in together to buy pregnancy tests!” she squealed.

I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. I wished she could take the test for me. She’d have much more fun doing it, I imagined. It never occurred to me that her presumptions were totally inappropriate because there was nothing malicious in her demeanor. She genuinely and mistakenly thought we were a young couple trying to have a baby.

“And I know you’re gonna say, ‘Oh, we just want a healthy baby’ when I ask the question, but answer me honestly, will you? No one ever answers me honestly! Do you want a boy or a girl?” she asked, looking at me.

“Um . . .”

“Don’t be shy. It’s okay to want one over the other. It doesn’t mean that if you get the other you aren’t still gonna love that sweet little thing as much as if it were the gender you really wanted.”

“Um . . .”

“Momma’s at a loss for words,” the girl said, looking at Mark. “Okay, Papa. What do you want?”

Mark was never tongue-tied, and he was never at a loss for words. And he thought on his feet. And he was kind and considerate. So he said, “These are actually not for us. We’re picking them up for her sister.”

“Oh.” The girl sounded disappointed. “Well, you two would make a beautiful baby together.”

“Thank you,” Mark replied, and swiped his credit card. He picked up our bag, grabbed my hand, and escorted me out.

“Wait! Your receipt!” the checkout girl called.

“Keep it!” he called back.

I prayed while I peed on a stick. It felt wrong and disrespectful to speak to the creator of the universe while I was emptying my bladder, but I had no choice. I had to pee on the stick to find out if I was pregnant, and I had to pray to God to ask him not to make me. There was nothing graceful about those few seconds on the toilet. I shook so badly that I actually peed on my hand at one point. I clutched the vanity for control, but it was useless. I was a mess.

“Dear God, please don’t let me be pregnant,” I whispered over and over while I capped the end of the stick.

Mark was waiting in his bedroom when I entered. I automatically handed over the test and crawled into bed. I curled into a fetal position and immediately started crying.

Two minutes.

My entire world might change in two minutes. What could I get done in two minutes? Nothing, I realized. I never finished reading all of Jane Austen’s books. I hadn’t written my own. I wasn’t a high school graduate. Maybe never if I didn’t pass calculus. I looked at Mark who sat staring at the windows on the stick, waiting. Waiting for the lines.

I continued sobbing into the pillow. How on earth could I see all of Europe in two minutes? How long does it take to tour the Sistine Chapel? Could I see Dublin in two minutes? Maybe sprint down O’Connell Street? The London Eye! Fuck! How would I be able to see that if I’m sprinting down O’Connell Street?

“I wanna see the world!” I wailed, the pillow doing a good job stifling my words and desperation.

“I know, Cadence,” Mark replied.

“I don’t wanna be a teen mom!”

“I know, sweetheart.”

The sobbing escalated until I couldn’t breathe. I shot up and grabbed Mark, clutching him like a lunatic, and he pulled me onto his lap and held me tightly, rocking me side to side while the seconds ticked.

“Almost there,” he whispered in my ear. “We’ll be okay.”

I shook my head violently.
No, we wouldn’t!
I screamed inside. I was going to have a baby, and my life was over. The adrenaline turned to anger.

“I don’t want a fucking baby!” I screamed into his shoulder.

“Me neither,” he replied.

“I hate babies! I fucking hate them!”

“Me too.”

“I never want a fucking baby!”

I thought if I kept screaming it, using the worst word I could think of to describe a baby, then there wouldn’t be one. I would be safe.

“Shhh, Cadence,” Mark said. “It’s okay.”

I felt all the tension go out of his body at those words.

It’s okay.

It.

Is.

Okay.

I looked at him through a film of tears, furrowing my brows. I don’t think I fully comprehended. Snot oozed from my nose, but I didn’t wipe it. I imagined I looked a wreck. My vanity told me to hide my face—of all times to be vain!—but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop looking at his. My brain worked sluggishly, but I finally recognized it.

Relief.

“I’m not . . . ?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did you double check?”

“Triple checked.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I love you!!”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, squeezing hard until he grunted.

“I love you, too, Cadence,” he said wearily, rubbing my back. Smoothing my hair.

I jumped from his lap and ran to the kitchen. I poured myself water and drank down the glass. I believed him, I did, but he bought another test, and I wanted to take it. There was no harm in seeing the negative lines twice. If anything, they would bring me greater comfort.

I waited a few minutes to give the water time to work its way through my system, lingering in the kitchen and poking about the pantry for a snack. Mark stayed in the bedroom. I imagined he was still looking at the test, the flat line telling him, “Relax. She’s not pregnant.”

After I finished off a near-empty bag of pretzels, I went to the bathroom and repeated the whole process. This time, though, I wasn’t as scared, and I didn’t pee on my hand. I capped the test and walked into Mark’s bedroom. I didn’t toss him the stick, though. I sat beside him and held it myself.

Two minutes to wait, and I didn’t give one thought to Europe. I was thinking, instead, about how ravenous I was. Just like the first time I visited Mark’s house. I wanted to eat everything in his apartment.

Negative. Again. Another wave of relief. Life kept getting better and better.

Mark squeezed my hand, smiling kindly at me before taking me into his arms once more and pulling me onto his lap.

“I’ll never make you scared like that again,” he said. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

I nuzzled his neck and slumped against his chest.

“I’m tired and hungry,” I murmured, feeling the instant heaviness of my eyelids. They drooped, and I forced them open. Droop. Open. Droop . . .

I fell asleep in a languid kind of ecstasy, unaware of the subtle shift. I wasn’t pregnant. Two tests confirmed that. But my world had changed anyway. I just didn’t know it yet.

I looked up from my test and smiled at Mr. Connelly, but he didn’t see. No, that’s not right. He saw me. He looked straight at me. But he didn’t smile back. It felt strange and set off a warning signal in my heart. Something was wrong, and I wanted to ask him instantly, but we were in the middle of class. I tried to focus on my work. I couldn’t afford to get a bad grade. Maybe he was looking at me but focused on something else, and it didn’t register in his brain that I was smiling at him.

Yeah, that sounds right.

I went to visit him during lunch, but he wasn’t in his room. I wandered down the hallway, peeking through the window into the teachers’ lounge. I saw him sitting at a table reading and eating. I almost pushed through the door before realizing he wasn’t alone. Several teachers sat with him, and I wasn’t allowed in the teachers’ lounge anyway. I thought it was weird. Mr. Connelly never ate in the teachers’ lounge. He preferred his room where he could listen to his hip hop while he ate and graded.

I tried one last time to visit him after school, but his door was already locked when I got to his room. The lights were out. He was gone. What was going on? Slight confusion poked at my heart in the beginning of the day. That confusion grew steadily throughout each hour until I finally succumbed to full-on panic.