Page 102 of Call You Mine
I look over at Georgie as she stands up from the living room floor, smiling at me as she brings over the cover of the record she bought with Anderson today.
Georgie.
The night she called me.
I always take my pill when I wake up.Always.
But I didn’t even go to sleep that night she called me when I was leaving Anderson’s.
Did I take it before going to work that morning? After I dropped Georgie off at the apartment to get some sleep?
Did I think about taking it and mistake that for actually taking it?
Or did it completely slip my mind?
My brain starts rifling backward, desperate—counting days, routines, pill packs. I’ve been so caught up in Georgie, my mom, and Anderson that I had to have missed one anddidn’t realize it, barely even looking at the pack each morning as I move through the motions.
Or maybe I didn’t miss one. Maybe I’m panicking. Maybe the test is wrong. Maybe I counted wrong.
Fuck.
I need to check again.
During dinner, it takes everything in me to stay focused on what’s in front of me. I want to be present for Georgie, but it feels impossible. She tells me all about her weekend with Sadie and her trip to the record store with Anderson, and fills me in on her plans for her week off from school.
Her voice is bright and moving a mile a minute, and listening to her talk and laugh and roll her eyes the way she does has me emotional, my eyes prickling and my nose burning.
She’s so happy.
Her gaze moves to Anderson, asking him if they can go to the record store after her piano lesson tomorrow, and that’s when my brain wins.
But instead of the worst-case scenario, it has me imagining that this pregnancy is real—leading me to let myself pretend thismarriageis real.
That it’s the three of us—maybe even the four of us—and every night is just like this.
Anderson’s eyes are on me, and I see his lips moving, but I don’t know what he says, too focused on my own thoughts.
He lifts a brow, his lips curving to a small smirk, and I swear, at that moment, I think he’s reading me like those worn books on the shelves in the living room—understanding me on a level to know where my mind is going.
And there’s something about the way he looks at me that has me wondering when I stopped considering how to fake this whole mess between us.
And started wishing it was real.
After dinner, I head to the bathroom, with the excuse ofwanting to shower off the day. In reality, I need to take another pregnancy test.
Locking the door behind me and making sure the door leading to Anderson’s bedroom is closed and locked, I twist the handle three quick times before walking across the bathroom to check the other lock three times.
Four.
Five.
Six.
I repeat, going back and forth, telling myself I don’t have to count to seventeen for both doors. I can count for both in one go. I try to keep my steps light, hoping the music from the record player is loud enough to drown out all the noise.
When I left Georgie and Anderson after the three of us cleaned up from dinner, the two were finding the spots on the floor next to Anderson’s collection of vinyls—spots that I’ve come to consider theirs.
Fifteen.
