Tested

         Helena felt the dread deep in her stomach, a pinching, sick feeling.

         "I think I need a pregnancy test." She looked up at her boyfriend, feeling her eyes bulge with the weight of hidden tears of panic. The words sounded so awkward to her. Miles looked down at her, his towering figure too close, yet not close enough for comfort.

         "How late are you?" He knew when it had happened as well as she did. One broken condom, taken care of quickly. That was all it took. Both of them had panicked about it for weeks, though neither cared to admit it.

         "Six days."

         "Jesus." He sounded so annoyed. "He doesn't even care to help me," Helena thought, over and over, and cried. She fell onto his warm chest and hugged him. Soon his arms were around her, pushing her nose too close to breathe, but she didn't care.

         "Don't cry. Please. Don't. I'll go get you a test, and everything will be okay. All right?" Empathy poured of of him, and Helena nodded. She couldn't afford a test, but she was guilt ridden at the thought of him buying her one after driving an hour to see her.

         "Thank you so much."

         "You wait here." He took his wallet and almost walked out the door. Miles turned, kissed her on the forehead, and rubbed her back. His lips awkwardly formed into the saddest smile Helena had ever seen. She wanted to kiss him, show him that everything was fine, but he was out the door and in his Volvo within seconds. She sighed and sat on the cold leather couch. Everything felt so sterile. 11:25. She figured he would be back within ten minutes. The drugstore was within walking distance.

         The pain of both abortion and childbirth entered her mind repeatedly until she was choking back sobs, and she felt selfish for it. She checked the time. 11:40. Why did he have to be late now? She wanted nothing more than to hug him, to be hugged and loved. "Maybe background noise will help," she thought. Helena turned on the old television and chose a sitcom she didn't pay attention to. It ended, at 12:15, and still he wasn't there. "Maybe he can't decide which test to get." Maybe he was on his way. There were too many 'maybes' for her liking. She waited more, but a new wave of panic was beginning to settle into her. She stared out the window, waiting for the car to drive by. All the lights were blinding, and she had to take an Aspirin.

         1:15, she knew. Tears rolled down her pale face and snot down her nose until she could hardly breathe at all.

         "You'd think after two years--two years," she said aloud as she punched the couch. He didn't love her. That was what was heartbreaking. How would she tell people what happened? How would she face him? Helena, shaking and frail, took a tissue and dried her face. She didn't bother rinsing it. She knew she'd start crying again. With a deep breath, she opened her jar of money and took some of the little money for food, and walked in the brisk night to the drugstore herself, without a coat. She looked for a Volvo the entire way.