Page 26 of Caught in Us
At least I’m not drinking.
I’m using my addiction to justify my detachment. I know I am, and yet it’s a compelling argument. My first night in London, I scared myself. It would have been all too easy to slip into reckless behavior and get lost again. That night I almost drank. I almost slept with a stranger. Thankfully, I got cold feet for both.
Because the stranger from the bar ended up being one of the undergraduate students in my classes. I almost died when he walked into my classroom weeks after I invited him back to my hotel. By the surprise in his expression, he felt the same. Even now, months into the fall semester, he goes out of his way to interact on a strictly professional level. Which is a relief. As attractive as Simon was, he wasn’t Chase.
“Fuck it.” I slam my textbook closed and spend a few minutes pulling on cute clothes and brushing on makeup. My pants are tight around the waistband and I cringe. It’s been months since my body has seen a gym. Whatever. This is the first day I’ve felt halfway human since moving here. I am doing something fun.
Lacing up my most comfortable shoes, I study the public transit routes one last time, then slide on a jacket on my way out the door. I pitstop for a coffee and pastry, and catch the train to my destination. St. Paul’s Cathedral is on my list of must-see places and from the moment I step foot inside, my breath catches as an overpowering sense of peace brings tears to my eyes.
The stained-glass windows paint little rainbows of light across the floor. The paintings created in this space speak to the hardships of people over the centuries. The challenge to choose good over evil. To persevere. I don’t consider myself an overly religious person, but this ancient church building is proof of something greater. It’s reassuring to know it’s still standing. That it’s overcome and endured. Just like the human spirit.
I’m going to be okay.The thought wraps around my shoulders like a warm blanket, and by the time I emerge, I believe it’s the truth. No matter what happens. No matter how hard life gets, I am going to be okay. I’m meant to be here—in this place and time—and that’s enough.
Finding a pew, I take a seat and absorb the grandeur of it all. The last few months have been insane and there have been so many times I’ve wanted to quit, pack everything up and fly back to Richmond. I haven’t felt myself exactly, but something shifts and the future feels bright again.
After another hour, I leave to find a nearby café to grab lunch, my stomach already grumbling with hunger. My body and feet sigh in thanks the second I sit down. I haven’t done this much walking in forever. I order and when the food comes out quickly, I devour it all. People watching keeps me entertained, but I can’t help but think of how much more fun this would be with Callie and Jill. A pang of loneliness hits me and I jump as my phone rings from its place in my bag.
I can hardly believe the caller ID. “Callie?”
“Alicia! It’s so good to hear your voice!”
“Same. I was just thinking about you, and then you called.”
“I miss you. It’s been too long.”
“How are you? How’s Ash?”
“We’re good. He ran out to the store and I thought I’d try you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“The time zone thing is killer. I’d call more, but I don’t want to wake you, and weekends seem to fill up. I can’t believe you’ve been gone for four months now.”
“No.” I shake my head, sure she’s wrong, but then realize the date. I exhale a long breath. “Shit. You’re right.” I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to get out and enjoy the city. I’m in one of the most beautiful places on the earth, full of history, and I need to take advantage. I have to stop living in the past.
Four freaking months.
Oh. My. God.
My stomach plummets and the food I consumed threatens to reemerge. With my heart hammering in my chest, I quickly do the math—count the days—but really there’s no point. I haven’t had a menstrual cycle since I’ve been here in London. I knew it had been a while. Attributed missing a month due to stress, but I’ve been living in a state of denial, because four months is a hell of a long time. “Shit. Callie, I have to go. I’m sorry.” I attempt to mask the terror in my voice but do a poor job.
“Is everything okay?” Callie says, alarm clear in her tone. “Alicia, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s fine. I’m fine. Just . . .” My eyes dart around the table, searching for an excuse. “I spilled my drink,” I lie. “It’s all over my dress. I’ll call you back later?”
“Of course.” Callie’s relief is clear but mine is nowhere in sight. “Call me whenever. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” I whisper breathlessly and end the call before I’m tempted to say more. I grab for my wallet and toss a few bills on the table, then rush down the street.
I’m in a daze, not really seeing or feeling anything around me as I make it back to campus. There’s a pharmacy across the street and I walk inside, my head bowed and heart racing. When I find the pregnancy tests, my head feels light. I wonder if I might pass out. I need to get back to my dorm. I’m seconds from falling apart. Rushing down the aisle, I turn the corner toward the check out and drop the box as I slam into another customer. I suck in a breath.What the—?“Sorry. So sorry.” My hands shake, my gaze dropping to where the pregnancy test fell, and for a second I actually think I might throw up. I can’t move.
“No need to worry,” the man says, squatting down to pick up my dropped item. “Accidents happen.” He stands to his full height. “Oh.” His lips tip up with the start of a smile. A smile I know.
Oh, God. No. The universe must hate me. Because the man standing in front of me is not only one of my students, but he is also the guy from the bar. Simon.
“Oh, fuck.” Recognition dawns on his face as I take back the box of pregnancy tests.
There’s no reason to hide it. He’s already seen what it is, but still I shove the slender box behind my back as if that will erase what just happened.
