Page 102 of Moto
“Hop on.”
The petite woman dressed in jeans and Converse sneakers doesn’t hesitate.
Her arms feel like lead around my waist as I ride away.
A distraction, a disruption, an interference, I remind myself continuously as I drive to my house. As we walk through the door. As we climb the stairs. As we shed our clothes. As I sink my teeth into the condom.
“When the regret sets in, remember you did this to yourself.”
36
Kayla
Ican barely keep my eyes open. The last two months have kicked my ass, and we’re nowhere near through with our ‘round-the-world adventure. The plane bumps from turbulence, jolting me awake. Reese grabs my hand. “Hey, it’s okay.” I must look startled.
“I’m fine,” I reassure my husband. “Just really tired.”
“I know.” He kisses my hand. “It’s go, go, go all the time. Takes some getting used to. You’ll have a chance to rest when we get back to the States.”
“I can’t wait. All I want is my pillow and a huge plate of home fries from Joe’s.”
“Soon enough.” He chuckles.
The stewardess hands out the customs forms as we ascend closer to Brussels. We have a two-hour layover before heading across the Atlantic to Baltimore.
I begin to fill out the form, stopping at the date. “What’s today?”
Reese looks at his gargantuan watch. “May tenth.”
I pause. “Already?”
“Yup, all day,” he confirms, finding my lack of timekeeping endearing. There’s nothing cute about it, because I suddenly can’t remember the last time I got my period. I finish the paperwork and hand it to the flight attendant, overly anxious. I can’t be pregnant. I’ve been off the pill . . .Almost two months.
Shit.
In the airport terminal, Reese sits quietly wearing his white Beats while I internally go crazy. The sound of muffled thumping bass agitating my fanatical thoughts. Am I? Could I be? I count days, times, possibilities of conceiving until it consumes me.
As Reese relaxes with his eyes closed, I decide I have to put my mind at ease. I can’t wait another eight excruciating hours to find out.
I tell Reese I’m going to grab a snack before I race to the closest terminal mart. They have everything from mouthwash to maxi pads, and in the bottom corner, tucked away, I spot pregnancy tests. I just won the lottery. I grab two boxes and swipe my card, darting to the bathroom across the way. I lock myself in a handicap stall and pee on the stick, my heart beating in my chest like a high-speed round of power punches. I sit and watch the little window, every second agony.
A blue color finally starts to materialize. My stomach bottoms out as a cross, plain as day, stares back at me. I blink in disbelief. Positive. If I weren’t sitting down, I’d fall over. I pant heavily, shaken up with a cocktail of emotions. Happiness being the main one. Reese said he didn’t care if we got pregnant. Well, I hope he was serious because our life is about to change in the most drastic way. A tear escapes down my cheek as I recap the test and place it back in the box.
I hurry back to Reese, who’s completely unaware I’m about to deliver news that will forever change his life. I sit down next to him, brimming with excitement, fear, and elation.
He perks up, reading my facial expression.
“Everything all right?” He slides the headphones off his head.
I nod zealously. “At least, I think it is.” I hand him the box discreetly. His eyes widen to the size of satellites when he sees the picture on the front. “Open it.” I lean in and whisper.
Reese, with shaky fingers, opens the top tab and pulls out the test. The second he sees the plus sign, he knows, too. My secret. Our secret. The breath he expels is audible as he stares at the stick.
“What do you think?” I ask nervously.
He doesn’t reply.
“Reese?” I quickly become apprehensive. Maybe he isn’t happy. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him. Maybe it’s a mistake.
