Page 40 of Stuck with You
“Corrie, please,” Richard pleads, completely mortified.
Pro: Nice hair. Con: Crazy
When the manager comes to see us, he apologizes and offers me another sangria at no charge. I accept politely, and when the server arrives with it, it contains three cubes of ice. I’m impressed, but a bit afraid that someone may have spit in it.
“There you go,” Richard says, and I know he’s already written me off too. This date was a disaster.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m going through a divorce, and my ex is dating again,” I explain. “I’m a mess.”
He nods politely.
As if I haven’t embarrassed myself enough, I go on. “I think I may also be having PMS.”
He smiles. “Oh yeah… PMS. My old girlfriend used to get that pretty bad. It’s probably the reason we broke up.”
I smile and shut the hell up. He pays for the meal, which I appreciate. I thank him for the date before I head off to my car. I think we both know there won’t be a second date.
As I’m walking back to my car, I go over the night’s events. I don’t know why I’m so bitchy. I know I wasn’t really happy about Jacob going on a date, but that was a week ago, and I’m glad he’s moving on. It must be PMS. My breasts are sore, and I feel bloated — telltale signs.
I check my phone calendar, and I almost trip over my own feet when I see when my last period was — six weeks ago. I’m late. I’ve been late before. A day here. Two days there. Three days. My cycle has been irregular, and it devastates me because that kind of thing is a sign of peri-menopause, and I’m way too young for that shit. Peri-menopause doesn't usually hit until the forties.
But what if?
It couldn’t be.
I won’t delude myself. It’s probably just my hormones out of whack. Regardless, I know I won’t be able to get a wink of sleep unless I know for sure.
I zoom to the closest drugstore and dash in. I run right to the contraceptives aisle, and grab a pregnancy test. The cashier smiles at me when she rings it in.
I stare down at the small bag in my hand, knowing this will probably end badly. Let’s face it, chances of me being pregnant are next to nil. I can’t do this alone. I need someone by my side. I think about heading to Jacob’s, but I really shouldn’t be seeing him, and I don’t want to get his hopes up. I can’t go to him.
I hop into my car, knowing exactly where to go.
Kayla swings the door open eagerly. “What’s going on, Corrie? Why are you popping up in the middle of the night?” She’s already in her PJs, her cat, Mitzy at her feet. Oscar is lounging on the sofa, watching sports. “Come in.”
“It’s personal,” I whisper.
Her eyes grow wide. “Let’s go to my room.”
I wave hello to Oscar. He’s cuddling with his cat — the sight is kind of sweet. “Hey, Corrie. How’s it going?” he asks.
“Good,” I say, my voice small.
As soon as the bedroom door closes, I blurt it out. “I’m late.”
Kayla is pleasantly shocked. “Really?” She already knows all about my weekend at the lake. She knows that I’ve relapsed and slept with Jacob three times.
I fish the test out of my purse. “I bought a pregnancy test.”
We both just stand there, staring at each other for a beat or two.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” she finally says. “Do you have to pee?”
“Yes.”
“Then, get to it,” she urges.
“But what if it’s negative?” I ask, pleading with her to say the right thing.
