Page 10 of The Curveball
Fuck. I’m probably pregnant.
Not even probably…most likely.
Nausea churns my gut, the same way it has for the last week. Which is exactly why Marisol dragged me out last night to buy pregnancy tests on our way home from the hospital. I tried to insist it was impossible. I mean, we used protection on top of my IUD. But for whatever reason, I went along with her crazy idea and bought the damn tests.
If nothing else, I figured it would be a funny way to end my time in Manitoba before I fly to England next week. Laughing about the time I thought I got pregnant from a random one-night stand.
Ha ha, so funny. Joke’s on me, I guess.
This cannot be happening.
But as I lift my gaze to the three tests, all clearly showing I am absolutely pregnant, I’m forced to admit that it very much is happening.
And the father?
I don’t even know his last name.
I slide down the bathroom cabinet until I’m sittingon the cool tile floor, staring at the avocado green bathtub across from me. My mind is somehow both racing and completely frozen.
I have options, I know. I don’t have to let this derail everything. I can take care of this and still be on my flight next week, with no one needing to know anything. Except Marisol. She’s going to demand to know the results when I see her tonight at work.
I’m pro-choice. I fully respect a woman’s right to choose what happens with her own body. But now that I’m faced with making that decision, I’m freaking out and teetering full-on into yet another spiral.
Should I have an abortion? Do I want to end this pregnancy? Oh my God, do Inotwant to end this pregnancy? Could I have a baby? I can't believe this. What was always just an academic choice that I know other women have to make is now suddenlymychoice to make.
And I have no clue how to make it.
My phone vibrates where it sits on my bathroom counter. I reach up and grab it, assuming it’s Marisol. Instead, I’m both shocked and relieved to see my best friend’s name on the screen.
I click the button to answer, and she immediately starts talking.
“Hey! I know, I know, you’re probably super busy packing, but I’m so freaking bummed I can’t come see you before you jet off to bonny England. So, I’ve decided to just call you as much as possible while we’re still on the same continent.”
“Fiona,” I manage to choke out, feeling tears building rapidly.
“Sage, what’s wrong?” Concern laces her tone.
“I’m pregnant.”
There’s silence for a second, broken only by my sniffle.
“And we feel…” Fiona says, asking the million-dollar question.
“I have no clue, I just found out. It’s definitely unexpected.” I let out a watery laugh. “I don’t even know his last name. It was a freaking one-night stand back in January. I have an IUD, and we used a condom. This shouldn’t have happened.”
“But it did,” she replies softly. “And maybe there’s a reason this happened when it shouldn’t have been possible.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah, but I can’t go to England if I’m pregnant, the agency won’t allow it. Insurance coverage and stuff.”
“Oh. Okay, well, you’ve got choices, babe. You don’t have to go through with the pregnancy, you know that. Can you delay your start in England at all?”
“Maybe by a week, but not any more than that.”
“Crap. Alright, I’ll call in sick at work and fly out to you. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“Don’t do that,” I sniff. “The whole reason you couldn’t come before I left was because of that big symposium you have. Don’t skip it.”
“Sage, you’re more important than a symposium.”
