Chapter 9 Lines #3
"I didn't ask her to do that." His head comes up sharply. For once he seems to have no explanation ready. "Sera, nothing has happened between us. I haven't slept with her."
"You gave her a place I couldn't reach." I can hear his denial and still need an answer for everything else. "Even if nothing physical happened, she was the person you turned to. I was the person you expected to understand afterward."
Rafael passes a hand over his face and leaves it there. I can't see his eyes now. Somehow that makes the next part easier.
"I called a lawyer on Monday." My voice is steady now, all the anger burned out of me, leaving behind something cold and clear. "I told her to start divorce proceedings."
His hand drops. He looks at me without speaking.
"Sera, please." He reaches toward the space between the bars, then stops as I draw back. "Please don't do this. I know I've failed you. I know I've been terrible. But I love you. I've always loved you."
"I loved you while I packed." I take another step back. I hadn't meant to tell him that. "I took the earrings your mother gave me because I couldn't bear to leave them. Do you think this has been easy?"
"No. I don't think it was easy." His answer is quiet enough that I almost miss it. Then he takes hold of the gate with both hands. "Give me a chance to show you I can be better."
"You had chances." I think about all the times I waited for him, all the dinners that went cold, all the evenings I spent alone while he worked late at the office. "You had months of chances. You used them all up."
"I'm done being the surest thing you never had to try for." I pull the sweater tight and take my first step toward the house. "You don't have to agree with my decision. But you do have to hear it."
Rafael is silent. The sun is setting behind him, turning the sky orange and pink and gold, painting everything in colors that would be beautiful if I could feel anything except this hollow ache in my chest.
"Go home, Rafael." I turn away from the gate, toward my father who is still waiting at the edge of the courtyard. "I'll have my lawyer contact yours. We can figure out the details through them."
"I won't give up on us." His voice follows me across the gravel. "I know you don't believe me right now. But I won't give up."
I don't answer. I walk back to the house with my spine straight and my eyes dry, and I don't let myself look back even when I hear his car start and pull away.
My father crosses the courtyard to meet me at the door. He doesn't ask how it went. He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes once, then steps aside to let me pass.
I climb the stairs to my room and close the door behind me.
The drawer of my nightstand is still closed. The test is still inside, still sealed, still waiting.
I stand there for a long moment, looking at the drawer, thinking about everything I just said to Rafael. About being done. About moving forward. About building a life that isn't defined by waiting for him to show up.
I can't make another decision while I'm frightened of opening a drawer. Whatever the result, I need to see it.
I open the drawer and pull out the pharmacy bag. Inside, the test is exactly where I left it, the box pristine and unopened. I take my phone from my pocket and carry it with the box to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
The instructions are simple. I read them twice anyway, then set my phone on the counter with a timer ready. After using the test as directed, I lay it flat beside the box and wash my hands.
I start the timer.
I lean against the wall and look at the ceiling instead of the test. Through the door, I hear my mother call something to my father downstairs. I could unlock it and ask her to wait with me. But I want a moment to have whatever reaction comes before I have to explain it to anyone.
What if it's positive?
The question sits in my chest, heavy and strange.
I wait for panic, for dread, for the kind of fear that should come with a test like this at a time like this.
Instead there's something softer underneath the fear.
Something that almost feels like hope, tender and unexpected, pressing against the bruised places inside me.
A baby. Someone I haven't met, who has done nothing wrong.
I press my hand flat against my stomach. Nothing feels different. But something is different, maybe, whether I'm ready or not.
The phone alarm cuts through the silence.
I push off the wall and cross to the counter, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. The test is lying where I left it, face up, the little window no longer blank.
Two lines.
I pick it up and hold it closer to the light, but there's no mistaking what I'm seeing. Two pink lines, clear and certain, impossible to explain away.
Positive.
I'm pregnant.
The test is still in my hand when I reach for my phone. I open Rafael's contact before I realize what I'm doing. For years, he was the first person I called when something happened that I couldn't keep to myself.
I just told him that I'm done. I watched him drive away.
My thumb stops over his name.