Chapter 7 The Squeaky Wheel
THE SQUEAKY WHEEL
I had never bought a pregnancy test before. I hadn’t even bought condoms. That was Tristan’s responsibility since it was his cock that needed to be covered. I took the pill; he bought the condoms. It was a fair trade.
We had two places in Parkfield to buy things like this.
The drug store that also sold ice cream and the one everyone went to.
And the discount store outside the city limits.
You could buy a movie, plumbing supplies, and off-brand nacho-cheese-flavored corn chips. You could also buy a pregnancy test.
In my basket I had a bag of chips, hair spray, cherry Pop-Tarts, tampons, and soon, a pregnancy test. But first I needed to pick the right one. They were next to the condoms and lube. A lube that would turn hot when blown on.
An older woman pushed by me to the adult diapers.
Maybe I should buy those instead of tampons.
But then the checkout girl would think I thought those were the diapers for babies.
At least with the tampons I was saying I might need these.
I scanned the rows of tests. One said that it could tell two days sooner.
Sooner than what? Another that said one day after your missed period.
What if it had been seven days? What if you didn’t know?
In school we were taught how to get pregnant.
Sex. But never the mechanics of the what-ifs.
I chose the one that claimed to tell you sooner.
I tucked it under the tampons and turned to leave.
This had been easier than I thought. It was still too early for anyone I knew to be here.
I would check out and… shit. Mrs. Peterson was standing in the aisle.
I turned to go the other way when she looked up.
“Evan?” she said, looking at where I stood.
“Mrs. Peterson.” I breathed out, also looking to see where I stood. Right between the condoms and the lube that heated up when you blew on it. I reached for it. “Just picking up some things for my mom.” Oh god, I just told my guidance counselor I was buying lube for my mother.
“Oh. Ah… that’s… good. Um…” She looked at the pads she held. “These are for school.”
“Those are good.” Shut up, Evan. “I should go. She’s waiting for me.
” Christ, shut up, Evan. Stop talking about your mother’s sex life.
I should have grabbed the adult diapers.
That would be more my mother’s speed. I brushed by Mrs. Peterson, hoping she wouldn’t see the bright blue box tucked amongst the chips and tampons.
“Evan, remember what I said. I’m here to talk. No judgment.” She looked at the basket.
Liar. I swung it away before she could see anything more.
“Nope, life is great.” I walked blindly to the front of the store.
Of course, the old woman with the adult diapers was trying to use a coupon at the checkout.
I shifted from one foot to the other, watching the guidance counselor out of the corner of my eye as she made her way to the front.
Her cart had a squeaky wheel. The cashier called for the manager.
“Come on,” I said more to myself than anyone else.
“They can help you at customer service.” The cashier pointed.
“Great.” I rushed over there, shoving my basket at the girl. I could hear the squeaky wheel making its way closer to me. The first item wouldn’t scan. “I don’t need it,” I said, the sweat building under my arms.
“Oh, I forgot to sign in.” She laughed and started scanning again.
Still the wheel moved closer. The girl struggled to find the bar code on the box of lube. “There’s a coupon. Do you want to use it?”
“I just need this.” I thrust the test at the girl.
“Okay.” She scanned the test and dropped it into the bag, giving me the total.
I dug the cash out Anna had given me. The cashier slowly typed in the amount while talking to the girl next to her.
I could see Mrs. Peterson’s head over the shelves and hear the wheel.
All of this was stupid. I could say it wasn’t for me.
She already thought I was buying lube for my mother.
I could be buying the pregnancy test for her too. My mother wasn’t too old for more kids.
Yes, that was it. I started to feel better.
But then what if Mrs. Peterson saw my mom and congratulated her?
My mother would know. Then she would think it was me.
I started spiraling down. Soon the world would think I was pregnant.
What would Tristan say? What would happen to the U of M? The wheel kept getting closer.
“Keep the change,” I said, grabbing the bag and left the store, the squeaky wheel still taunting me.
In the parking lot, Anna was ducked down in the front seat. I jumped into the car.
“Drive!” I yelled like I had robbed a bank.
“Shit.” Anna started the car and squealed out of the parking lot. I slid down lower in the seat.
“What the fuck, did you steal it?” Anna breathed heavily as she pulled into the small county park.
“No, worse.” I sat up and threw the bag at her. “Mrs. Peterson saw me.”
Anna looked into the bag. “Where’s the change?”
I looked at her like she was fucking crazy. “Did you hear what I said? Mrs. Peterson saw me.”
“That was my last twenty. I need to buy a cup at Chelsea’s.” She closed the bag and frowned at me.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. This was so typical of Anna. There were never any consequences, just the next social event or thing she wanted to do. “You better be talking about a cup of fucking sugar. Because you’re not drinking.”
She flopped back in her seat and watched a group of kids run to the playground. “Matt said he’d pay for an abortion. There is a clinic down in the Cities. He doesn’t want to have it. He’s going to MSU in the fall to play football.”
I sat back in the seat, also watching the kids.
I didn’t want any. I was like my mother in that way.
I didn’t dream about having Tristan’s kids or what they would look like.
But Anna had different dreams. Midwestern dreams. She wanted kids and a three-bedroom house with a double sink in the bathroom. “What do you want?”
Anna shrugged. “I don’t know. I want this to go away. I want to wake up tomorrow with cramps and blood.”
“When are you going to take it?”
“Tonight. Matt says we need to get it scheduled before I’m too far along.” She touched her flat stomach. “Thanks for getting the test.”
“Do you want me to wait with you while you take it?”
Anna shook her head no and started the car. “I’ll take you home.” She backed out of the parking lot and turned down main street. Most of the stores had closed for the season. The only place that was busy was Bucks and Does, a greasy café with deer murals and cheesy bathroom humor.
“You’re still going to Chelsea’s, right?” Anna asked.
I wanted to remind her she shouldn’t go either, but that was not what Anna wanted to think about. She didn’t want to think about what being pregnant would look like. I didn’t blame her; sometimes I wanted to forget my dad was dead. I wanted to pretend he was at work or fishing in Canada.
“I’m not sure. I have to work until six. Then Tristan gets off at eight. Plus, I have a report due.” I played with the loose string from the hole in my jeans.
“I don’t know what you see in him. You could do so much better than him. He’s going nowhere but jail.” She turned down my street. The houses were a mix of old and new construction.
There was no one better for me than Tristan, and two years ago, Anna had thought he was good enough for her.
We had been at a party, and I overheard her and Chelsea talking about how they didn’t think I was good enough for Tristan.
That he could do better than me. Someone prettier.
When I confronted Anna, she swore she was drunk and only joking.
“That’s not what you said to Chelsea.” I regretted the words as they slipped from my mouth.
“You’re never going to let that go, are you? I said I was drunk, and you know how Chelsea is. God let it go.” She frowned at me. “Anyway, what are you wearing tonight? I hope something better than what you have on.”
“What does my style have to do with you telling Chelsea you didn’t think I was hot enough for Tristan?
” At this point I don’t know why I was arguing with her.
Anna was never in the wrong. When we were ten, she broke a ceramic deer my dad had bought me.
She blamed me for putting it somewhere she could break it. I wish I still had the deer.
“A lot. You dress like a thirteen-year-old boy.” She looked at me. “It’s like you’re trying to hide something.” She glances over at me.
“Like I’m hiding something?”
“Yeah, or someone is making you hide something.”
“If you mean Tristan, no. He’s not asking me to hide something.” I was actually surprised it had taken this long for her to think Tristan was like James.
“I’m just saying.” Anna twisted her mouth before pulling the car over and turned to face me. “Listen, I’m your best friend, and you know you can tell me anything, right?”
And no, I couldn’t tell her anything. When I told her my mom matched with one of our teachers on a dating app, she told everyone. “What’s going on?” I wondered if my mother and Mrs. Peterson were waiting to ambush me in some weird intervention. I was dating Tristan Anderson, not freebasing heroin.
“I think Tristan is controlling you. Like, who you can see. Who your friends are. That’s part of the power and control abusers use. I did a report for my English class on domestic abuse.”
I groaned, flopping back in the seat. Self-Centered Anna was hard enough to deal with. Know-It-All Anna was worse. She once stopped using deodorant and wanted me to also because she read it could cause cancer. Thankfully, that lasted only a week.
“Tristan is not controlling me nor is he abusing me. I spend time with him because I want to. He’s my boyfriend. I’m supposed to spend time with him.”
“Not all your time. This is our last year. You should be spending time with your friends, not him,” Anna pushed.
“Friends? I don’t like Chelsea, and she doesn’t like me. I also don’t want to drink tonight. I have work in the morning.” If anyone was controlling me, it was Anna.
“There will be other people there. Please. I don’t want to face Matt alone.” Anna started driving again.
That was what this was really about. She didn’t believe Tristan was controlling me. It was easier to make my life look like a shit show than admit hers was. “Fine, I’ll go until Tristan gets off of work.”
“Yay!” Anna giggled as she pulled into my driveway. “Be at my house by seven. We can talk about your lack of fashion.”
“Whatever.” I slid out of the car and grabbed the mail before heading into the house. The smell of Pine-Sol and floor wax already filled the air.
“Evan, is that you?” my mother called from the kitchen.
“Yes, Mother, who else would it be?” I sorted through the mail. Mostly junk along with the water bill that “we” needed to pay. The only reason she brought that up was because Tristan had showered here a couple times and she didn’t want to pay for him. I reminded her Harold had also.
At the bottom was a letter from the U of M.