One Pink Line (13 page)

Jenna waved me off, like it was no big deal. Which I guess it wasn’t to me either, since I never bothered to mention it to Ethan or ask his opinion…or permission. But she was right; why should I feel guilty about being out with someone and enjoying myself? How dare he make me feel like I was going behind his back and misbehaving? I was not going to let Ethan ruin my evening.

We met up with our dates at the bar, where a huge crowd of people who were attending the dance had congregated. Jenna took off looking for Rocco, and I sat down on a stool Kevin had saved for me.

When it came right down to it, Kevin and I were mostly drinking buddies, but we actually had a pretty good time together even when we were sober. I discovered how handy he was one day at my apartment while we were studying for a Spanish exam, and two of my book shelves abruptly fell off the wall behind my couch. He grabbed a toolbox from his trunk, and had them back up in less than ten minutes. And the time my refrigerator was making a buzzing sound for two days, he pulled the whole thing away from its nook, smacked it around a little and silence was restored. He grew up in Los Angeles and came from money, but never flaunted it. He drove a Honda Accord and shared an apartment with Rocco, even though his parents had offered to rent him one of the brand new condos near the Student Union. His family never came to visit, but they were always sending him airline tickets to meet them in various parts of the world.

“Hey, short stuff,” he said as I sat down. “What’s your poison?”

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Two more Bud Lights, and two shots of Jager,” he shouted to the bartender.

“Jager, already!” I gasped. “I don’t even have my dress on yet.”

Kevin took a swig of his beer. “You can hold your own, Syd, I have faith in you.”

Soon after that, things began to get interesting, and mildly confusing.

There were more drinks and more shots.

There was Jenna and I holding hands and dashing upstairs to throw our dresses on.

There was dancing, and a questionable amount of Disco music.

There was Jenna screaming obscenities at Scott Makin, a guy who broke her heart junior year.

Then there was Scott Makin screaming obscenities at Jenna.

Then Rocco yelling at Jenna.

Then Kevin and I on the floor of the ladies room consoling Jenna with more shots.

Then Kevin pressing me up against the ladies room wall and kissing my neck while Jenna went to pee.

Then there was me enjoying Kevin kissing my neck.

More dancing, little food, Kevin and I making out in all corners of the ballroom, and still more shots.

I woke up at three o’clock in the morning lying naked next to Kevin in one of our two hotel beds. My head was on fire. It was burning with such intense heat that I winced with pain when I tried to open my eyes. After a few minutes, queasiness coursed through my abdomen leaving a moist, cold sweat in its wake. I sat up slowly, praying I would be able to find the toilet without my vision, but I felt my throat retract and before I knew it, I’d filled the garbage can that Kevin had the foresight to place on the floor next to the bed.

My skin was pulsating and my body gently shook as I lowered it back onto the mattress. I couldn’t even shift my arm to reach for the covers. Kevin was sound asleep.

My dress lay two inches from the soiled garbage can, looking much more like crumpled newspaper than anything wearable.

Caddyshack was playing on the TV.

Eight weeks later…

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I
woke up on the floor of my apartment in a fetal position, and then ran to the bathroom. I’m not sure if the puking was a result of the pregnancy, the beers, or the realization that I was carrying Kevin’s child. Once I peeled myself away from the arctic base of the toilet bowl, the first thing I did was throw the white test stick in the trash along with the First Response box, the receipt, and the Wal-Mart bag. Then I returned Jenna’s call from the night before. It was just about eleven o’clock in the morning.

“What’s up Syd?”

“Just about to hit the español again, sorry I had my phone off the hook last night so I could study.” My voice was fatigued.

“No worries, I called to see if you wanted to come over and watch Days with me, the big wedding is next week.”

Jenna and I, like most of our sorority sisters, were addicted to Days of Our Lives, and had been wildly anticipating the nuptials between Jack and Jennifer.

“You know something’s bound to go wrong,” she added.

“I think Andrea is going to record it so we can all get together and watch it at night,” I told her.

“Well, it starts in ten minutes, can you get your fat butt over here or not?” she asked.

As soon as she said fat, I began to think about my condition. I knew she was joking around, but had I already begun to gain weight? Had my physique changed noticeably since the Beta formal eight weeks ago?

“Hello?” she snapped when I didn’t answer immediately.

“Sorry, I can’t be there by eleven.”

She made a disappointed
tsk
sound. “So, what’s the plan for later, are we going to Joe’s for fifty cent shots?”

“Sure, I have a couple hours left of Spanish though, then I have to rewrite two pages of my Social Sciences paper, and then I’m good.”

Jenna let out a huge yawn. “Oh my, I better have a Diet Coke transfusion before we hit it later. I’ll come get you around nine o’clock.”

“What about dinner?” I asked.

“It’s dollar baskets of ranch cheese fries, too, so don’t you worry.”

“Much better, see you at nine.” I said nothing to her about my news and went into full-on sweep-it-under-the rug mode.

My books were exactly as I’d left them the night before, yet everything had changed. I struggled to remember what exactly triggered the whole turn of events the previous evening. How, sitting amidst my Spanish text books on the floor of my apartment, did it occur to me that I hadn’t had my period? One minute I’m in the throws of studying for finals, and the next minute, I’m the March Hare on a covert mission in search of a pregnancy test. But, as shocking as the results were, I really had more important things on my plate right then. Finals were the following week, and there was no need to add ‘college flunkie’
and
‘knocked-up co-ed’ to my list of attributes.

Jenna arrived just before nine o’clock and greeted me with a sub sandwich from Jimmy Johns and a bag of chips. “Thought we might need a little pick me up,” she said.

“Doritos,” I grinned. “My fave.”

“Only the best for you,” she tossed the food on my kitchen table.

Jenna was decked out in black satin shorts and a white tank top with an unbuttoned black vest over it. She also had on three-inch black strappy sandals, and an oversized black patented tote bag.

“Who are you hoping to run into?” I wondered.

“No one special, just want to go out with a bang on one of our last night’s around here.”

“Did you hear back from Scott Makin?”

“Maybe,” she smiled. Scott had called her after she stalked and berated him in Indianapolis at the Beta formal, and he was apparently attracted to psychotic behavior because he asked her out again.

“Okay, shorty shorts,” I grabbed a handful of Doritos and cracked open a Diet Coke. “Excuse me while I do my best to find an outfit that won’t divert attention from yours…shouldn’t be too hard.”

I went to my closet and decided on a green and white striped cotton sundress and flip-flops. With my hair in a ponytail, Jenna and I would make a nice good girl/bad girl combo. I slipped on a pair of lace-less white Keds and went to the bathroom to grab a rubber band for my hair. When I walked in, Jenna was standing at the sink holding the First Response box.

“What is this?” Her face was pale.

“Why are you going through my garbage?”

“Answer my question first,” she responded quickly. “Syd, are you pregnant?”

She was staring at me in disbelief, waiting for an answer, and I felt like I was going to be sick. “I think I am,” I admitted.

“You think you are? What did the test say?”

“It said that I am.”

She put the box down on the sink, and sat on the edge of the tub. “When did you find out?”

There was a short pause. “Yesterday.”

“Oh my God, why didn’t you tell me?” She threw her arms up. “When were you going to say something?”

“I don’t know,” I grabbed the box and tossed it back in the garbage.

“Is it Ethan’s?” she asked skeptically, but she knew I hadn’t been with him for months.

“It’s Kevin’s.”

She ran her hands threw her long dark hair, and then placed them over her mouth. “Oh, my God,” she said slowly.

“Tell me about it.”

“Sydney, come here,” she stood up, grabbed my arm and led me out of the bathroom and onto the couch. “Are you okay? Why are you acting so calm about this? How could you not have told me?”

All I really wanted to do was get to Joe’s, start drinking and get my mind on anything else but the image of those stupid pink lines staring back at me from that shoddy pregnancy test. “I don’t know, Jen, I’m stressed out about finals, and I just don’t feel like obsessing about it.”

“You’re in major denial,” she was much more panicked than I was. “I will go with you to Planned Parenthood first thing in the morning, and we’ll see what you need to do, okay?”

“Fine,” I said, hoping she would just shut-up about it and move on.

“When did you miss your period?”

“I don’t know, it’s been a few weeks.”

“Like how many?” she shook her head.

“Like seven or eight, I think.”

“Eight weeks!” she was now shouting. “You realize you don’t have much time…”

“Jenna, please, stop!” I interrupted her panic attack. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, I don’t even want to think about it. So could we please get on with our night as planned?”

She smiled at me like I was pathetic and clueless. I knew she was trying to help, and that I could count on her for anything, but all I wanted at that moment was to be free of concern.

“I’m not going to debate the issue, Syd, but are you sure? This is major.”

“I’m sure.”

She rolled her eyes, got off the couch and grabbed her bag. “Okay then, let’s hit it.”

“Thank you.”

“Just promise me that when you’re ready, you will come to me, and not try to handle this on your own,” she demanded.

“I promise.”

We arrived at Joe’s, which was predictably overcrowded due to kids finishing finals and wrapping up the school year. Jenna spotted two girls from her film studies class, and they let us share their booth.

“Why don’t I get us some drinks,” I offered before sitting down.

“Great, whatever shots you want, and I’ll have a Bud Light too,” she said.

“Anyone else?” I ask the table.

“We’re good,” Jenna’s classmate said without looking up.

I squeezed my way to the bar, through rock concert-like conditions, and waved down my buddy Jeff who’d bartended there for years, and had been through almost six fake I.D.s with me. He knew just about every Senior and Junior by full name, and if you were underage, all he cared was that your I.D. card looked remotely like you, or even slightly resembled someone who could pass for a relative of yours. If you met those criteria, he was happy to take your money and serve you the drink of your choice.

“Jeff!” I yelled and waved.

He pointed at me, indicating I was on his radar. Then I watched as he filled a circular bar tray with little plastic shot cups, then took a pitcher of pink medicinal looking liquid and filled each cup, before carefully handing the tray to a waitress.

“Hey, Syd,” he said and wiped his hands on a towel tucked into his jeans. “Whatdaya need?”

“Two Bud Lights and two tequila shots,” I said loudly.

“Shots are on me.”

“Thanks, Jeff. How come they’re always on you when it’s fifty cent shot night?”