12. Abby
Abby
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Mortified. That’s the only word to describe how I’m feeling right now.
Tears are clouding my vision, but I can see Rios standing before me, my lunch visibly soaking his shirt, stunned in place. The smell alone is threatening to spill more of my contents out of me. Luckily, one of the employees from reception comes running over.
“Ms. Morris, here, let me help you.” She’s got a basin in her hands and a few tissues.
The moment the trash bin is in front of me, I start throwing up some more. What am I, a never-ending pit? This is so embarrassing.
Once I get back to my apartment, I’ll most likely never leave the confines of my home ever again. Maybe I can move out of here and never return. This is the worst day ever.
Rios is going to have a hell of a time telling this story. Then again, he’s going to have to explain why he was here, and I doubt he wants to do that, so maybe he’ll keep his trap closed about my exorcist debut.
Once my lunch and possibly all the meals I’ve consumed in the last month have stopped making a reappearance, I finally bring myself back to standing.
My gaze meets Rios, and he’s still standing there, unmoved because he really has nowhere to go.
I mean, he’s covered in vomit. I sort of feel bad for him, but karma’s a bitch, right?
“Listen, I don’t have any change of clothes, but maybe I can help you clean that up. I can at least wash it for you or something?”
Rios takes the opportunity to slowly move the sweater over his head. Luckily, it didn’t soak through to the undershirt, but it’s too cold outside, so I’ll do what I can to help him get cleaned up in my apartment.
“Here’s a bag for clothes.” I look down at her badge and see her name.
“Thanks, Serena,” I tell her. She nods and walks back to the front of the lobby.
The elevator dings, and we walk in. He hasn’t said anything, just silently stands on the opposite side of the metal box as we ascend to my apartment.
We get to my floor and walk out to the hallway.
The moment I get my door open, I walk straight to my washer to hopefully get this mess fixed up.
After I get his sweater into the machine, I walk to my restroom and get myself cleaned up.
I must be coming down with something. Hopefully, I didn’t pass it on to Kennedy too.
I walk back out and find Rios sitting on a stool in my kitchen.
“Can I get you some water?” I ask, opening my fridge in hopes of finding a ginger ale.
“How far along are you?” Rios asks.
I quickly straighten and close the fridge.
“Excuse me?” I ask. We barely know each other for him to be that forward with his question.
“I have four sisters. Three of which I’ve watched go through this. You’re knocked up. How far along are you?” he asks again.
“I’m not pregnant.” I laugh. “If we hadn’t started off on the wrong foot, Rios, we’d be friends because you’re funny. That’s a good one. I can’t get pregnant.”
“I’m not trying to be funny, Abby. I’m serious. I think you’re pregnant.” He’s not letting this go.
“Well, you’re not letting this sink in. I. Can’t. Get. Pregnant,” I repeat.
“Like ever?” Is this guy dense?
“Rios, are you trying to piss me off even more or something? Do you need me to call my doctor to prove it to you?” My laughter dies off because now this guy is pissing me off.
“Abby, I know you think I’m an asshole, and I guess I am, but I’m really asking you.
Are you one hundred percent unable to have children or something?
I’m asking because you already didn’t look great when I saw you with Kennedy.
Then you threw up on me. I have this gift of knowing when people are pregnant.
I knew when all my sisters were pregnant before they even knew.
So yeah, I think you’re pregnant.” He says this like he’s some sort of pregnancy whisperer.
“I don’t think I’m a pregnancy whisperer , but I think I’ve got some sort of sixth sense about it,” he says, and I realize I must have said that last part under my breath.
“There’s like a five to ten percent chance I can conceive naturally without the use of fertility drugs or hormones.” I roll my eyes.
“That’s not zero, Abby,” he says like I don’t understand math.
“Someone paid attention in math class.” Apparently, I took my asshole pills today.
“Don’t be a smart-ass. It’s unbecoming. Plus, you know what I’m saying. You should call Malloy and tell him. He’ll be thrilled.”
“What are you talking about?” I look at him like he grew a second head.
“Well, haven’t you been spending a ton of time together?”
“Yes. Can I get pregnant from osmosis now?” What the hell is he referring to?
“What do you mean?” he asks me.
“What the hell do you mean?” I throw back.
“You’re telling me you two really are just friends? All this time, he’s been telling the truth?” Rios looks at me like I’m lying to him.
“Yes, Rios, Malloy is being honest with you. Why would he lie? He’s an honest person. We are just friends. Malloy is a good person. Pull your head out of your ass and realize you have a good friend by your side. We are friends, that’s it!” I smack my hand on the counter.
“I’m so tired of you making Malloy out to be some lying friend who betrayed you. Stop making him feel guilty over nothing. He’s a good person. Believe him when he tells you that he is who he says he is.”
Right then, I see the realization hit him.
“Fuck. You’re right. I’ve been a dick,” he says.
Right then I say, “I know you have!”
We stand there in silence, my arms crossed as I give him my meanest glare.
“Well, what are you going to do, Abby?”
“About what?” I say back.
“The pregnancy!” he says in frustration.
“What, are you an OBGYN on your days off? There is no pregnancy!” I yell.
“Oh my gosh! I will buy you a pregnancy test myself.” He gets up and stalks to my front door.
“ Oh my gosh , please don’t. I do not need any of those ever again. I’m done looking at those stupid pink single lines.” I follow him as he makes his way to the door.
“Fine, you can sit here and stay pregnant and sick while I know you’re carrying someone’s baby. By the way, I’m really good at predicting gender as well. So I’ll guess that when you’re ready too.” He opens the door, and I stare at him and roll my eyes.
“You’re very wrong about this, Rios. Don’t worry about me, I promise.”
He stares at me for an extra beat.
“Why are you staring at me? It’s creepy.”
“I’m thinking,” he says.
“Well, don’t. You might pop a blood vessel.” I’m on an “absolute jerk” roll this afternoon. Maybe it’s being around Rios.
“Girl. Definitely a girl. You’re giving off girl vibes.”
“Wow, you really don’t get how this works, do you? I tell you I’m unable to conceive, and you just dig the knife deeper, don’t you?” I tell him, my mouth hanging open.
He walks over to the elevator, about to press the button, but then turns around and comes back to my front door.
“Abby, I know you have this horrible impression of me, and rightfully so. I get it. I showed my worst side to you. Honestly, I’m disappointed in myself.
Hopefully, I can find a way to prove to you I’m a pretty good guy.
I mean, well, most days. But I’m serious.
If there is any chance you could be pregnant, find out.
It’s important. You need support. You’re alone here, right? Your family is on the West Coast, no?”
“Yes, but I am not pregnant, Rios. I swear. I got my period a while ago.”
“Are you sure that wasn’t implantation bleeding?” he counters.
“How in the world do you know about implantation bleeding?” Is this guy for real?
“Four sisters, remember?” He smirks.
He stalks over to the elevator and, this time, presses the button. He salutes me on the way in once the doors open and finally goes inside.
I close the door and go about my day. I’m finally feeling better once the ginger ale hits my system. I get my house in order a bit and put my computer at the kitchen table in hopes of getting some work done before I decide to call it a night.
An hour passes before there’s a knock on the door. I check the peephole and see Rios standing on the other end. It’s only then I realize he probably wants his sweater back, and I never even put it in the dryer.
I swing the door open and am immediately greeted with a plastic bag.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“It’s the damn test,” he says, sounding annoyed either with himself or with me.
“I told you?—”
“Yeah, yeah, do what you want with it. But at least I know I did all I could. Also, I had a sweater in my car, so you can just give it to Malloy, and he can give it back to me.” He turns back and is already leaving my floor.
“Rios—”
“I know. You’re welcome.” He waves without looking at me.
I smile, knowing he might actually have a heart deep down. He’s just been a bit prickly lately.
It’s been hours. Four hours if I’m being honest, and I just stare at the damn box. I can’t even open it.
The last time I had one of these in my possession, all it did was bring heartache.
I hate these damn boxes. I hate the significance of the fucking contraptions they house.
I hate the line. I don’t even say lines plural because, for me, it’s never been two lines.
One fucking line is all I’ve ever seen staring back at me.
I don’t even know the feeling of two lines.
And I know what my future holds. One fucking line.
But now what Rios has said—that damn pregnancy whisperer—is on repeat in my mind, and I need to know.
He brought me the test, so I need to take it.
It’s like an addict who needs another hit.
I remember having these tests in my house, and I would take all the tests like I needed to see if each one had the same result—as if one would differ from the other.
Things got so bad for me once that I pulled apart one of the digital ones that said “Not Pregnant” because I didn’t believe the inside lines would actually match what the digital reader said.