Backslide

Chapter 18 Both Back in the Day

That was then. But then was not so simple either.

Then is when Nellie realizes she has missed her period.

Just as she’s having doubts about her future with Noah in New York and weighing her options, she realizes there may be yet another unexpected glitch in the plan. In all of the plans, actually.

Because she is alone in her family apartment, her brother finally away at school, her parents on a trip upstate with friends, when realization sets in.

She dials Cara’s number. Hangs up before anyone answers. With Cara, she is in for a lecture.

Why wasn’t she careful? Is she crazy?

She dials Sabrina’s number. But Sabrina has been busy lately. Busy with her new friends.

When Sab answers, she is breathless and a tangle of strange voices crisscrosses in the background. “Hey! Just heading out the door to this opening in SoHo. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Nellie says. “It’s not important.”

“Okay, cool. We’re late, so I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Miss you!”

“Yeah, totally,” Nellie says, trying to disguise the wobble in her voice. “Have fun tonight!”

She goes to dial Noah. But she realizes she’s not ready.

So, instead, she throws on a navy-blue, oversized Champion pullover, grabs her keys from the cluttered tray by the front door, and walks to Duane Reade alone.

Swallowed whole by her sweatshirt with her hands pulled inside her sleeves, she makes her way to the correct aisle at the pharmacy.

Eyes the pregnancy tests with trepidation.

Pluses and minuses circle in her head like unsolved equations. Like so many SAT questions.

Only she has no clue what to do. And this is not multiple choice.

“That one’s pretty good,” says an employee who is restocking nearby, a young woman with her dark hair pulled back. Her name tag reads DEBBIE and there is kindness in her eyes. “At least, it worked for me. It’s easy to read. But get two, just to be sure.”

But what does it mean for them to work, thinks Nellie. And she wonders, as she says thank you, what answer this woman got when she took her tests—and if now she’s working this shift for diaper money.

Nellie buys green Tic Tacs at the counter, not because she wants them but because she wants to buy something besides this radioactive purchase. To somehow defuse the shame of the pregnancy tests sitting threateningly on the counter.

Then she walks home, clutching the white plastic bag to her belly, a wintergreen mint on her tongue.

She hovers over the toilet, pees on the stick.

The test is positive. The girl was right. It is easy to read.

Nellie bursts into tears, the kind of heavy sobs that are reserved for being alone. They subside just as fast.

A thunderstorm in summer.

She takes a deep breath, knowing what she must do. Pages Noah. He calls her back.

“I need to talk to you,” she says between shudders.

He is distracted. She can hear music in the background. Is everyone out living their lives except for her?

“Hang on,” he half shouts. “Let me find somewhere quiet.”

There are muffled voices and footsteps as he finds a nook. The sigh of a door. Maybe he’s in a closet or a bathroom.

“Where are you?”

“This sick apartment on the Upper East Side. It has three floors! Remember that kid Chino? I guess his dad is some kind of diplomat.”

She does not. Nor does she care. She says nothing.

“What’s up, Nell?” he asks, exhaling.

She steels herself. And then, in a burst, she tells him. And there is silence on the other end of the line.

“Fuck,” he says finally.

“Fuck,” she agrees.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she says, like it’s an apology. “I’m sure.”

“Fuck.” Again. “What now?”

And she is annoyed by the way he expects her to have the answers. It’s her body, yes. But why should she know more than he does about what to do?

“I don’t know,” she breathes. “I guess maybe I need to go to the doctor… and then make an appointment and…” She breaks off, losing her voice in the enormity of the thing, and starts crying as recognition of her situation descends again.

Will she tell her parents?

She has so much on her plate right now. How will she even make time for this—an enormous error? Her breath turns shallow again. She’s panicking.

“Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Do you want me to come to you?”

He is asking. He is not insisting. And she realizes in that moment what a tremendous chasm there is between those two things.

He’s not jumping in the nearest cab to race to be with her, to face this problem that they have, in fairness, created together. He is asking her—do I have to leave the party? Do I have to deal with this right now?

Is it her or does his tone sound inconvenienced? Put out by the fact that he might have to leave this sick apartment to be by her side?

“Yeah,” she says, even though asking for his help in this moment—when she already feels like a burden to him—is the last thing she wants to do. But she’s out of options. She’s in this with him. For better or worse. “That would be good, Noah.”

There is tension in her voice.

He sighs. With frustration? Irritation? Resignation? “Okay. Fine. I can probably leave here in twenty.”

She hangs up the phone. And sitting on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, she waits. And waits. And waits. And waits.

And he never comes.

He calls her not the next day, but two days later. And what he has done is so egregious, so shameful, that she can’t bring herself to admit any of it to anyone.

If she tells the people who love her, they will no doubt hate him.

Is she ready for that?

In that time, thankfully, she has awoken to her period. She has never been so happy for the ache of cramps.

If it was a real pregnancy, it has not stuck.

But what has happened is enough to change her path.

She is willing to allow that Noah’s injury, the loss of his baseball scholarship and accompanying dreams, has transformed him into someone else entirely—at least temporarily.

That this pregnancy scare—yet another vision of a possible hitch in his future—may have been enough to render him unable to function.

Maybe he’ll even return from the farthest reaches of asshole-dom in time for them to work it out.

But Nellie will not be making plans around Noah. Not now. There’s too much to lose.

“Oh, thank God,” he says, when she tells him she’s not pregnant. “Look, I’m so sorry. I just, there’s been so much going on. I freaked out. I froze.”

She will not let him off the hook so easily.

“Right,” she says, her voice tight. “Well, I was kind of freaking out too. But now I’m not.”

“Okay… I mean, that’s good?”

“I’m glad you think so,” she says, like she couldn’t care less what he thinks.

And the numb formality in her voice is more severe than any shouting.

“Nell,” Noah says, as he realizes he may have finally pushed too far.

And wasn’t that his deep, dark intention maybe?

But he realizes in this moment that separation from Nellie isn’t what he wants.

Not at all. He has made a huge mistake—one from which he may never be able to recover.

“I am so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry. ”

“I hear that,” she says. “But I have to go.”

“You have to go? But we just got on.”

“Yes,” she says. “But I have things to do. I’m taking driving classes starting today.”

“You’re taking driver’s ed? Why?”

“Because. If I’m going to live in LA, I need a car.”

The weight of her words lands just as she hoped. On his chest like the last brick. His mouth drops open. He adjusts his grip on the phone, begins to sweat.

She feels real satisfaction as she waits for him to piece this puzzle together.

“Live in LA? What do you mean? I thought we decided…”

“Well, I decided that I need to do what’s good for me. I need to look out for myself. Because no one else is.”

And he gets it. He does. He knows he has done something unforgivable. But this? This is all it took for her to let him go? To decide not to choose him?

It confirms his worst suspicions. That she was just looking for a reason. That she has never thought he was enough.

Maybe it was all a lie. Maybe he wasn’t more than baseball to her, any more than he was to anyone else. If all it took was this one transgression, albeit a big one, maybe she was looking for a way out all along?

“Okay,” he says. Because what else is there to say. “Are you still going to Chloe’s party tonight?”

“I might stop by. Probably not.”

“But we had plans?”

“Plans? Like when you told me you were coming over two nights ago? And left me alone, terrified, and fucked up?”

“Nell.”

“Noah.”

There is a heavy pause.

“What would you have done if I was still pregnant today?” she demands. “Would you have disappeared for good?”

Like your dad. The subtext hangs in the air.

“Nell.” His voice has gone hoarse, desperate. “You can’t possibly think that.”

“Actually, I can. Lately you haven’t given me a reason to believe anything else.”

There is the twist of a knife. There is a blank space where there used to be words.

“Fine. Maybe I’ll see you,” he grunts, and hangs up before she can beat him to it.

And she sits on her bed, in the aftermath of the call, holding the receiver in quaking hands and feeling broken.

The loneliness that descends is total.

The conversation went just as she planned. And yet she only feels empty.

She will go to California. But does she want to leave like this?

That night, though Cara and Sabrina are busy again, Nellie goes solo to Chloe’s party.

Because Noah has massively disappointed her. She is deeply angry. But she knows he’s good at heart. Somewhere in there, the good, funny, caring Noah still exists. And he is hers. While she is definitely going to California with or without him now, this doesn’t have to be the end.

Maybe she can still convince him to come.

They’re pissed. They’re hurt. They’re both going through a lot. But they can do it together.

But when she shows up at the party, there is only crash and burn.

Because as she kisses Chloe hello at the door and then weaves her way through the throngs in the dark club—one with the same strobes and press of bodies and half-spoiled smell as the night when they first saw each other—she searches for Noah everywhere.

It’s Lydia who runs into Nell first and points him out.

And when she follows Lydia’s gesture, she sees he’s not seated on a platform like that first night.

He is leaning against a partition at the edge of the dance floor.

And his tongue is down the throat of a girl she has met a couple of times before—some friend of Lydia’s.

Chastity or Crystal or Christa?

Her mind stops. Her world goes dark. It teeters on its axis again.

Nellie brings a hand to her chest as recognition—oily and viscous—sears through her, decomposing all she understands. Light turns to midnight. Her heart pounds like it’s trying to escape. There is a strong possibility she will throw up.

He feels her eyes on him. Looks up. Sees her see him.

Sees the slack look on her face.

His mouth drops open—in shock? In awe? In recognition of the decision he has made?

Because this is a decision. Make no mistake. Punishment for not choosing him.

Lydia stands beside Nellie, following her gaze to Noah, still twisted up with her friend. “Sorry,” she says, barely containing her grin. “But I told you he was out of your league.”

Colossal destruction. Thunderous collapse. It’s not what either of them planned. And yet, they have masterminded this.

Nellie takes one last look at Noah, who has untangled himself as if to make his way toward her.

But the abyss between them is too deep. There is nothing left to say.

She turns to go. Bass thunders in her ears. And he can’t get to her fast enough. He watches her recede and disappear into the crowd.

And this is when the rest of their lives begin.