Julia #3
Something so life changing shouldn't be this simple.
When I finish, I set the test on the counter and wash my hands. Then I stare at the mirror and try to recognize the woman looking back at me.
Ricardo’s shirt.
Hair tangled around my shoulders.
Eyes too large in a face that looks drained of color.
I do not look like someone who might be carrying a child.
I look like someone who barely made it through the night.
The timer on my phone would help if I had my phone, but I don't. And I have no idea where it is.
Likely in police custody.
For a moment, I think about something I haven't thought about at all. Where are the police? Why haven't they questioned me yet? They didn't show up at the hospital.
Is that what being attached to a Conti is like?
I suppress the thought and open the bathroom door.
Victoria looks up immediately.
“It says three minutes,” I tell her.
She nods. “All right.”
I leave the test on the counter and walk back to the table. Victoria pours more tea into my cup even though I have not finished the first one.
Neither of us says anything for a while.
I sit with my hands between my knees, staring at the carpet.
Three minutes should be short.
Three minutes can change my entire life.
Downstairs, a low murmur of male voices rises. I swallow. Ricardo is back. It won't be long until he comes up here. As soon as whatever conversation the men are having downstairs is over.
I think of Ricardo’s face when he finds out.
If.
When.
My hand presses low against my stomach again.
This time, I leave it there.
Finally, Victoria looks at the small clock on the bedside table.
“It’s been three minutes.”
My heartbeat becomes too loud.
“I can’t look.”
“Do you want me to?”
I shake my head.
Then nod.
Then shake my head again.
Victoria does not move until I make myself stand.
My legs feel strange as I cross back to the bathroom. The test sits on the counter beside the sink, face down because I turned it that way before leaving. As if it'll make a difference.
I reach for it.
Stop.
Behind me, Victoria stands in the doorway, close enough to help, far enough to let me have my moment.
I pick up the test and turn it over.
The result appears instantly.
Clearly.
Undeniably.
Positive.
For a second, I do not breathe.
The bathroom disappears around me. The stone counter. The mirror. The soft towels. Victoria in the doorway. The faint sound of voices downstairs.
Positive.
I am pregnant.
I am pregnant with Ricardo’s child.
The thought is so gentle, initially.
Then everything else crashes into it.
Dante’s blood.
Harrison’s roses.
Ricardo’s rage.
My apartment door.
My father’s voice.
My mother’s expectations.
A child.
A child inside me while the world goes to hell.
My knees weaken.
Victoria reaches me before I fall.
She takes the test from my hand and sets it on the counter, then guides me down until I am sitting on the closed toilet lid. Her hands are warm on my arms.
“Breathe,” she says.
I try.
It comes out as a sob.
Victoria crouches in front of me as much as she can, one hand braced lightly against the counter, the other still holding my arm.
“Julia.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“I figured.”
“I’m pregnant,” I repeat.
“Yes.”
Tears spill down my face, but I do not know what kind they are. Fear. Shock. Grief. Happiness.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper.
“You do not have to do all of it this minute.”
“I have to tell him.”
“Yes.”
My eyes jerk to hers.
Victoria does not soften the truth.
“If you want to wait until you can breathe, wait until you can breathe,” she says. “But yes, Julia. You have to tell him.”
“He is downstairs planning how to destroy Harrison.”
“Then he needs to know exactly what Harrison threatened.”
My hand goes to my stomach again, shaking.
Victoria’s eyes follow it.
Her voice lowers. “And he needs to know what he has to protect.”
A sob leaves me.
I cover my mouth, but it comes anyway.
Victoria wraps her arms around me carefully, and I lean into her because I cannot hold myself upright alone.
For a moment, I cry against her shoulder.
When I finally pull back, Victoria reaches for a tissue and presses it into my hand.
I wipe my face.
My fingers are still trembling.
“What do I say?”
“The truth.”
“That I took a pregnancy test while his son is in the hospital?”
“That you have been sick. That you were scared. That you took a test, and it was positive.”
“What if he's angry?”
“He won't be,” she assures me.
Downstairs, the voices rise again.
Ricardo’s voice cuts through the others.
I cannot make out the words, but I know him.
I know the edge in him.
“He’s angry now,” I whisper.
“Not at you.”
“I’ve never seen him like this.”
She tucks my hair behind my ear. “The one he loves most in the world was threatened.”
I breathe in shakily and look at the test on the counter.
Still positive.
“I need to tell him.”
“Yes,” Victoria says softly. “You do.”
I look down at myself. Ricardo’s shirt. Bare legs. Shaking hands. Hair still tangled around my shoulders.
“I can’t go down there like this.”
“No,” she says, standing with me. “Shower first. Then change. I’ll tell Ricardo you want to speak to him.”