Chapter 11 #3
I’d been coming here for years, and we’d talked a lot, but this was the first time we’d hugged and probably the only time we’d shared anything personal.
It touched me more than I could say that she was putting herself out there, and not just because I needed it and had always liked her, but also because I’d started to think everyone was against me.
Yes, there were anti-fertility activists and the AAFA, but most people supported The Fertility Act.
They thought it was necessary, thought it was okay that my rights had been stripped away to make room for the human race.
It was nice to know there were people on my side.
When she pulled away, Stormy kept her hand on my arm for a second, her gaze holding mine a little longer before she gave it a squeeze and turned and walked away.
When she was gone, Trevor lifted his eyebrows. “What was that about?”
“Just women supporting women.” I clinked my glass against his.
He smiled. “Nice to know there are some good people left.”
I snorted. “Some.”
We drank, talked more, and snacked for a little longer before Trevor stumbled off his stool. Looked like he would be sleeping over again. Not that I minded.
“Where are you going?” I asked as he made for the front door instead of the back – which was where the bathrooms were.
He put two fingers to his pursed lips, pantomiming smoking, and I rolled my eyes.
It wasn’t like I didn’t smoke every now and then when I was drinking.
I did. But I wasn’t as bad as Trevor who thought a beer and a cigarette – organic, of course – went together.
Still, it wasn’t like he had any other vices.
The guy was a health nut and despite the drinking of the last couple days, he was pretty chill when it came to alcohol and usually limited himself to two.
He was about as even-keel as a person could get, so I couldn’t really fault him for indulging in one secret love. Even if I couldn’t participate.
I slid off my stool. “Wait for me.”
“You?” Trevor’s expression was suddenly serious despite how drunk I knew he was. “Aren’t you…”
Instead of saying more, he gave my wristband a pointed look.
“I’m not going to smoke.” I looped my arm through his and pulled him toward the door. “I just don’t want to miss out.”
“Aw,” he said as we reached the door, “good old FOMO strikes again.”
“It’s a pandemic,” I said, then winked and laughed because no one joked about that shit. It was up there with the holocaust and September eleventh.
Trevor groaned. “You’re going to get cancelled.”
Again, I snorted. “Cancelled? What year is this?”
“Okay, okay.”
A cloud of smoke engulfed us when we stepped outside, but I was careful not to inhale it.
The sun was low and blocked out by the buildings, and the sky was painted in shades of pink, purple, and orange.
People milled about, talking and laughing, and a group was gathered just outside the door, each of them with cigarettes in their hands.
They greeted us like old friends, which we practically were, and the nearest woman offered Trevor a light when he put his own cigarette to his lips.
I sat on the bench, Trevor and the other smokers standing over me.
The air was cool, the town calm, and the evening relaxing, and despite the fact that I hadn’t had even a teaspoon of alcohol, I felt oddly calm.
It was something I hadn’t expected considering I’d not only been dreading this day, but knew that in just a week, I could be pregnant, but it was nice.
It erased some of my worries, made me hopeful that things would actually be okay after all. I would get through this.
All of that came to screeching halt when a low chime started up.
I looked around, unsure of where the sound was coming from. Trevor and his smoking friends did as well, and it wasn’t until a skinny redheaded man in his thirties waved to my wristband that I understood what was happening.
“Your alarm is going off.”
I lifted my left arm and stared at the band, confused. I hadn’t realized it could make sounds and I didn’t know what it meant, but when I turned the face toward me and scanned the small screen, my stomach bottomed out.
SECONDHAND SMOKE ALERT. RELOCATE NOW.
What the hell?
I looked from Trevor and the other people standing around me to my wristband, which was still going off.
The screen was flashing now, the bold words screaming at me.
How did it know? Was I being watched? No.
That wasn’t it. It couldn’t have been. Which meant the wristband was monitoring my surroundings or my body or something.
Which was just insane. Yes, the people at the Department of Fertility had told me it would send them updates about my health, but I hadn’t realized what that entailed.
And they hadn’t volunteered the information either.
Why not, and what else had they kept from me?
I jumped to my feet. “I have to go inside.”
Trevor, who was drunk but knew me better than anyone, tossed his cigarette on the ground and snuffed it out with the toe of his shoe. “I’m coming with you.”
I was too freaked out to speak, so I hurried inside without comment.
The wristband was still dinging, which drew the attention of more than one person in the bar and made my cheeks burn.
I’d tried so hard to relax, so hard to forget what was going to happen to me, but the government had made sure I couldn’t.
I was a prisoner, and they wanted me to remember that every second of every day.
Thankfully, the dinging stopped less than a minute after stepping into the building, but the absence of noise didn’t help me relax. I was on the verge of tears again, shaking, out of control. I had to get out of here, and fast.
I grabbed Trevor’s arm, my fingernails digging in. “I have to go. Now.”
“Stay here,” he replied. “I’ll pay.”
Then he pushed his way through the crowd, headed for the bar.
He’d sobered up faster than I would have thought possible, and I was so very thankful for that.