Seventeen Years Ago
Six weeks since my last period.
I stare at the test, nausea bubbling away inside me like lava about to erupt.
I’m not. I can’t be.
Jackson drops my hand. I rub at my eyes with the cuff of my navy school jumper.
Now is not the time to be mis-seeing things.
‘Maybe it’s a mistake.’ I study the two lines filling the window, hope expanding inside me.
One is strong and undeniable, but the other is barely there.
‘Shouldn’t they both look like that one? ’ I point to the first line.
‘Don’t know.’ His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. ‘Do these tests get things wrong?’
I nod with a confidence I don’t feel. ‘Everything gets things wrong sometimes.’ I give him the test back. ‘Did you say you had another one?’
Jackson gets to his feet and goes into the bedroom. He reappears ten seconds later, carrying the second blue-and-white box, and without a word, pushes it into my hand.
I take it and walk back into the bathroom.
This time I really don’t have any wee, so I rinse out the pink plastic cup covered in rainbows that we stand our toothbrushes up in.
Once it’s filled with water, I put it down on the sink ledge, then turn my attention to the box.
I strip off the cellophane and open it to take out the test. The packaging drops into the sink.
I pause and grip the edge of the sink, sick rising into the back of my throat.
I take a gulp of water. I cannot be pregnant. I don’t want to be pregnant. A tear trickles down my cheek, betraying me, and I rub it away roughly.
After what feels like an eternity, I’ve squeezed out enough wee and I put the lid back on the test and go to rejoin Jackson on the landing, forgetting all about washing my hands.
I hand him the test and we stand side by side watching the darkening of the result window make its way down the strip.
It takes forever, but eventually it hits the control line, which darkens to a solid blue line.
Then it creeps on. I hold my breath, willing no more lines to appear. I am not pregnant …
Gradually my wee reaches the space for the second line and it appears again too. Not as dominant as the first, but definitely there.
The test shakes in Jackson’s hand. ‘Shit.’
‘No.’ My voice is a tiny wail, and it’s opened the floodgates to tear after tear tracking down my face. Jackson reaches out and wraps his arms around me, pulling me towards him. I lean into his chest, my whole body shuddering with sobs, my mind blank.
He hears the key in the front door before I do.
‘I thought everyone was out for the night,’ he hisses.
I stand, staring up at Jackson’s face, dazed. We are supposed to have the whole evening to ourselves. Dad is away at some meeting or other and Mum is meeting her best friend, Sandra, for drinks. There should only be us here.
‘Ellie?’ Mum’s voice floats up the stairs.
He jerks away from me, the movement jolting me back to reality.
‘I’ll be down in a minute, Mum,’ I call.
Jackson is already collecting up everything and shoving it in his rucksack.
I straighten up and slap both of my cheeks before wiping my nose along my sleeve.
‘I have to go before she comes to find me. Sorry. Do I look like I’ve been crying?
Don’t make any noise when you leave, will you?
She’ll kill me if she finds out you’re here when no one else is in.
’ I grasp the side of my bedroom door. ‘I’m scared. ’
‘So am I, but we’ll work this out.’ The golden tones in his eyes shine through the tears that are collecting there.
‘Will we? Be OK?’ A sharp pain slices through my chest. ‘I love you.’
He runs his index finger down my forehead, over my nose and down my chin, and my heartbeat stutters.
‘Yes. Promise. I love you too.’
My eyes search his, and I weld my teeth together to keep myself calm. Another crash comes from the kitchen and I step backwards. ‘I’ve got to go.’ And before I dissolve into a mess, I swivel about and flee down the stairs two at a time.
I pause outside the kitchen door and rub the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. Then, with my hand on the door handle, I take in a large lungful of air before pushing it open.
‘Hi, Mum,’ I sing as I bounce into the kitchen, exaggerating everything. I shut the door behind me as loudly as I dare, praying Jackson has heard it. ‘I thought you were out for the night?’
Mum is at the sink, filling the kettle. ‘I got the day mixed up. I’m meeting Sandra tomorrow.’ She gives an embarrassed laugh.
I force a smile. ‘Oh no.’
I open the mug cupboard and as noisily as I can, take out two mugs. ‘I’ll have one too.’ I motion to the jar of instant coffee she’s reaching for.
‘Okey-doke,’ she says, picking up the mugs from where I’ve deposited them. Having put coffee and sugar into the mugs and clicked on the kettle, she goes to leave.
‘Where are you going?’ I say, my voice pitching up a notch.
‘I’ll nip to the loo while the water boils. Won’t be a minute, then you can tell me all about your day.’
I hold my breath as I listen to her walk up the stairs and then breathe out audibly when there are no voices. Jackson must have got out safely.
The kitchen chair scrapes across the lino as I pulled it out and sit down, resting my head in my hands on the tabletop as exhaustion washes through me.
‘Ellie. What the hell’s this?’ Mum’s voice has an unusual sharp edge and it sends a bolt of electricity surging through me.
Before I’ve even raised my head, I know what she’s holding. The empty pregnancy test box from the sink.
Shit.
‘I …’ I stop. What the hell am I meant to say? Saying it out loud is going to make it real.
‘Eleanor.’ Her voice slices right through me. ‘What the hell have you been doing? You’re only fifteen. How could you be so stupid?’
Silent tears roll down my face, but I still can’t find any words.
‘Talk to me for God’s sake. Are you having sex? Is this yours?’
I nod numbly and wipe desperately at my face. ‘Oh Mum.’ My whole body shaking with sobs.
‘How could you? What were you thinking? Scrap that. You obviously weren’t.’
My chin is welded to my chest and my body continues to vibrate with emotion as I stare at my hands clasped in my lap, not daring to meet her eyes.
‘For Christ’s sake. I take it it was positive?’ She walks around the table and yanks out the chair next to me to sit, flinging the pregnancy test box onto the table in the process. ‘And with Jackson?’
I say the smallest of yeses, which even I can barely hear, my head still down.
She sucks in a breath through her teeth and her finger taps on the tabletop in a repetitive rhythm that drums through my skull. ‘How the hell am I going to tell your dad?’
It’s the mention of Dad which jerks me back into the room.
‘No. Please don’t tell him. Please.’ I love my dad.
Of course I do, but he isn’t the most sympathetic of people and the thought of him knowing I’ve been having sex makes me want to tear my insides out.
I’d get grounded and never let out again and I can already hear him tearing a strip off me and it isn’t pretty.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to.’ I raise my head a touch and stare at the top of her blouse.
It is red and shiny and has a tiny running stitch edging the scalloped collar.
Then switch my gaze to the perfect, circular shiny red buttons at the hollow of her throat.
‘There were two lines.’ I take a snotty gulp of air and wipe at the stream of tears dripping off my chin.
‘Fuck,’ Mum says under her breath.
She never swears. Ever.
My ability to think has deserted me entirely. I curl my fingers into a fist and dig my nails into the palm of my hand. Hard. I have no idea what comes next.
My mouth feels like sandpaper. ‘What do I do?’ I lift my gaze to find her staring straight at me. Her skin is pale, almost grey, and her jaw tenses in spasms, betraying the fact she is clenching her teeth.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never had a pregnant teenager before,’ she snaps, rubbing the bottom of her shirt between her fingers.
Shame covers me from head to toe, and an animalistic moan erupts from my lips before I can stop it. I rub at my nose with the cuff of my school jumper to catch the snot dripping down to my top lip. ‘I’m sorry. I really am.’
I don’t know if it was my words or my increasingly desperate sobs, but something seems to flick a switch in her. ‘Oh love. Come here. I’m sorry.’ She lifts me to my feet and pulls me over onto her lap.
Her gentle tone wraps around me and I sob even louder, pressing my face into her shirt. She smells of soap and washing powder and normality.
‘Shh. Shh.’ Her arms hold me and she rocks ever so gently, stroking my hair as I empty every bit of emotion inside me.
When I have no more tears left and my lungs hurt from heaving, she softly moves me back to my original chair and looks me straight in the eyes. ‘We can fix this. We have options.’
‘Really?’ Every breath feels like my chest is going to explode.
It’s her turn to nod. ‘And we won’t tell your dad. Not yet. Maybe we won’t even have to. Let’s get our heads straight first.’