Jay Walking (23 page)

"I know, and I am. Trust me. I don't think I could be any more proud of myself than I am today."

"So what's the problem?"

I push off the counter and turn to face my friend. "I told Jay off after the run."

"I saw you talking to him. What happened?" A toilet flushes and we wait as a young lady washes her hands and leaves the bathroom. "Did he say something to upset you?"

"I just freaked out. He told me he raced past me to try and push me along, and I accused him of trying to save me."

"From what?"

"He doubted my ability to finish. During the race, he didn't stop to run with me. He almost knocked me down, and then had the nerve to stand at the finish line and wave me in."

"Oh, no!" Amber plants her hands on her cheeks like Macaulay Culkin in
Home Alone
. "This attractive man with his shit together attempted to show you he cares by offering support. What a jerk!" I roll my eyes as she juts her hip out and takes a stance. "You don't need that kind of positivity in your life."

I'm being ridiculous and leave it to Amber to point it out. Completing the run filled me with such satisfaction but running into Jay's arms at the end would have made it even better. I'm stubborn. I always have been. She stares at me with her huge eyes, pushing her lips together until she spits into a laugh. I follow.
 

"Want me to tell you the best part?" She nods. "I threw my water on him. He waited for me and I dumped water on him." My laughter transforms into tears. "What's the matter with me?"

"Oh, Chelsea." She joins me, standing next to me at the counter and putting her arm around me. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're hurt. You're scared." She leans her head on my shoulder and immediately lifts it back up. "And you stink."

I snort through the tears. "I know. I really have to shower."

And pee. Desperately.
 

Amber comes back to my house with me and plays with James while I shower. Clint and Bentley made plans to go to a movie, and my parents are too worn out after standing in the sun all morning and chasing after a toddler around at the pizza place.
 

I set the two of them up with some finger paints. That will keep her entertained and him occupied for quite awhile. James loves to paint and never gets bored while doing so.

I take a long, hot ten-minute shower, and when I step out my legs are stiff. I didn't stretch after the run; I was too busy giving Jay a what-for. I doubt stretching now will make any difference, but when I workout tomorrow, I'll need to do extra ones. Maybe I should try some yoga, something that focuses on elongating my body, because, wow, my thighs are like wood.
 

I don't plan on going out again tonight, so I decide to let my hair air dry, and I toss on a tee shirt and capri pajama bottoms. Amber doesn't care if I'm dressed up or not, and James, well he practically lives in pajamas.

The kitchen table is a disaster. Papers dabbed with orange, green, red, and blue finger and hand prints are scattered throughout, the table is smeared with paint, and James looks like he's auditioning to be a clown. He's having the time of his life, and from the grin on Amber's face, I can tell she is, too.

"What did you make me?" I interrupt their van Gogh session.

Amber hands me a masterpiece he painted, which is a bunch of scribbled lines, but I think it's perfect. "You did a great job!" I praise him. "Thank you so much!" I'll hang this up at work. I think I should start bringing some of my home life into my cubicle; some photos, drawings, and cards. I may be happier at the office.

"You're the scrapbooker - perhaps he'll be an artist."

I don't want James to grow up too fast, but I'm anxious for him to put his potential to the test and discover where his interests and talents lie.

"How do you feel?" Amber begins cleaning up as I take a seat and start to create something.

"Great. My legs are killing me, but I'm refreshed." I dip my finger in the yellow and brush the sun across the paper. This is my go-to picture. I can't draw anything, much less paint it. The sun, a tree, and some grass, possibly a flower - that's my typical scene. Nothing is wrong with that, but I do a terrible job creating it. Still, my pictures bring in the sunshine and who can complain about that?

Amber takes the finished paintings and lines them up along the counter to dry. "Do you think you're going to talk to Jay?"

"I should, shouldn't I?"

"Yes! Don't throw away a potentially wonderful relationship because of Daniel, because, you know that's what's holding you back. Don't let him take over your life."

She's one hundred percent correct. He never said he wants to get back together, though. He probably categorizes me as a friend, and I don't think I can be just friends with him. Whenever I run into him, I only want to touch him and kiss him. I can't be platonic with him.

"Why can't this be easy?"

She wets a rag. "Because it can't. Nothing in life is simple. You have to work at it and make things happen."

My picture is done, and my fingers are covered in paint. "I need to wash my hands." I love painting with James, but I can't stand the way it coats my skin. I'll say, though, washable paints are the best invention ever. In a matter of thirty seconds, there's not even a trace of color on my fingers. "How are things with Ryan?"

Amber stops cleaning the table. "Oh my God, Chelsea, he's awesome. Hanging out with him is so much fun. We're not sure if we should talk to Barb about our relationship, though."

"It's not like he's your supervisor or vice-versa. It's none of her business. Wait - are you
exclusive
?"

She nods and a little squeak escapes like she's a teenager.
 

"I'm so happy for you! We should celebrate. We can go to dinner or something. How about Tuesday?"

She pulls out her phone and checks her calendar. "The sixth? I can't."

I freeze. "Is Tuesday is the sixth?"

"Yeah. Today's the third, so Tuesday's the sixth." She starts to wipe down James for me.

I race to the wall calendar, flipping back to September and then August. I count the days. Had I ... no, it's been over thirty days ... I've never missed a month ... no, not again, not with Daniel. We used something, but condoms aren't one-hundred percent. And with that, I burst into tears.
 

Amber tosses the rag onto the table and grabs my shoulders. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Does something hurt?"

Only my heart, which is now sinking into oblivion with the prospect of having another child with Daniel. I'm sobbing, trying to turn my face so James doesn't see his mother in tears. "I ... I've ..."

"What, Chelsea? You're scaring me!"

"I missed my period. I think I might be pregnant." I fan my face and I'm beginning to sweat like I'm running the 5K again. We used a condom.
We used a condom!
I keep shouting it in my head, but I'm well aware they aren't one hundred percent effective.

"Calm down. I need you to relax. I'll stay here while you go to the store and get yourself a pregnancy test."

"I don't want to." I don't want to know. The possibility of the truth suffocates me. I can't raise two kids my own.
 

She ducks her head under mine and I sit back up straight, my cheeks wet. "You need to." She hands me a tissue. "If you
are
pregnant, we'll deal with it. If you're
not
, then you have nothing to be worried about."

I'm staring at her, calm and relaxed, and I know at this moment, I could never ask for a better friend. No matter what, she'll be here for me. She'll hold my hand as I tell my parents, and help out with James if needed. "You're right. I'll run to the drug store, and come right back. Can you put James down for a nap?"

I don't even bother to change, throw on a hoodie, and drive to Walgreens, where my future will be determined.

•••

I didn't expect to spend the next thirty minutes at the drug store picking up a pregnancy test. Sure, one day, but not like this. Not with the possibility of being pregnant by Daniel again. In all my days as a young girl, I imagined getting married and having kids of my own. Never in my wildest dreams did my fantasy include two children out of wedlock with an emotionally unavailable man.

I head to the family planning aisle to get a test. Family planning. What a funny name. Most people who shop this section of the store didn't plan a thing. With all the accidental pregnancies, they should call it the "Whoops" aisle. A big sign should hang down in front of the condoms. "Not fool proof. Just say no." I'm not on any other kind of birth control. My busy life as a single mom is plenty, and it's free.

I can't believe the number of pregnancy tests stacked on the shelves. They all taunt me, laughing at me for my stupidity, cursing me for being an idiot. Individual packages, groups of two, or even five. Do I need that many? I'm only about six days late. Will I need more than one to verify? If another week passes, and still no period, I'll need to get another test. Which brand is best? Some claim they can tell seventy-two hours before the missed period. Another says five days. Aren't they all equal? Pee on a stick and be done with it, right? How many different brands does the world need? I'll go with the cheapest. But what if I get a false positive? Or even worse, a false negative? I'd go on about life not knowing I'm pregnant and end up being one of those women who shows up at the hospital with cramps and then next thing you know, I'm delivering a baby.

Speaking of cramps, I'm a tad nauseous and my abdomen is starting to ache. I might get my period yet today. I hope not in the middle of the family planning aisle, although that would be a little ironic, and I'm close to the women's feminine product area. I must pick up eight different boxes before I finally decide on one.
 

In an attempt to bury the pregnancy test, I grab some milk, batteries, and a pack of gum. I'm ready to get out of here and take this thing. I turn the corner right next to the photo area to go to the checkout counter, when I catch a glimpse of Jay. Shit! I scoot back to the aisle, the milk cold in my hand as I pretend to be mulling over the potato chips in front of me. I peek around the end cap, and he's coming right for where I am. I shuffle back and forth, and as I turn to go the opposite way, he calls my name.

I can't escape. I don't want him to see what I'm buying, so I stuff the box under my arm. "Jay. Hi." I squeeze the test, trying to make it as unnoticeable as possible.

"I changed my shirt." He points to the Guinness T-Shirt he's now wearing.

"Oh. Um, sorry about that." And I realize I'm in pajamas. With Tweety Bird on them. Score.

"We keep running into each other. I'm beginning to think this is fate."

"I'm not so sure I believe in fate as much as the fact this is the closest Walgreens from both of us." He laughs, and my face lights up. "I apologize for getting so upset before."

"Yeah, what
was
that about anyway?"

I'm like a faucet today with my sweat, and I'm sure the test will slip right from underneath my armpit and drop between my feet. "I thought you didn't believe in me."

His face drops, and I obviously hurt him with my words. "I've always believed in you. I thought you realized that."

Our eyes linger, and in this moment I want nothing more than to kiss him. "I'm so sorry I reacted like I did. I'm not used to ... to someone being real with me and caring about me."

"Plenty of people care about you. Your parents, your friends, your son. And maybe your ex in some weird kind of way."

Daniel. The elephant in the room. "About that."

"Nope. Don't do it. Let's not get into this. I was foolish to think there
wasn't
any drama. I can't think of one person I know with kids and an ex who doesn't have some sort of problem."

I clench my armpit tight trying to hold the test in place. "You're right."

"I mostly am."

Jay is so funny. I miss this. I want him. I
do
need him, but not in the way I chastised him for before. I'm complete with him. Now's the time for honesty. "Jay, James is my everything. And until you, Daniel's been the one man in my life, and he only recently came back trying to see James." I adjust my eyes to my feet. "Well, he came back for a while, and he's left again."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, no. It's for the best. I mean, he plans on getting some sort of custody, but he and I don't need to be together. We're not right for each other."

He steps closer to me, and I press the pregnancy test tighter. "I know who's right for you."

I swallow. "You do?"

"Let's try this again, Chelsea. I'm sorry if any comments I've made hurt you. My last romantic relationship -
and
business one - were riddled with lies. I freaked out when I first found out about your son, and I get why you were afraid to tell me about his dad. I'm ready to move forward. With you."

The milk is heavy in my hand, and I need to switch arms. I make the transfer, and, as I do, the test falls right to the ground. Jay looks at it, then at me, and I'm in disbelief at how much I royally screwed up. Again.

"Amber, you should've seen his face. I can only describe it as devastation. Meanwhile, my entire body filled with humiliation. I almost fainted." I recount the events to her before I rip open the box.

James is in bed, taking a nap, and I want nothing more than to join him. Jay didn't freak out, like I expected, and I really needed to explain. I came clean, though, vowing not to start our on-again romance with a lie.
 

"Did he run off in the other direction?" She's crunching on chips, enjoying my tale of embarrassment.

"Thank God, no. After I explained myself, he said I should take the test and text him the results. He wants to get back together, but if I'm ... you know ... it's an obstacle he's not sure he's ready for. I understand."

She pulls her legs up onto the couch and gets comfortable. "Damn, girl, he's a good guy. I think most would have left you in a cloud of dust."