Missing Like You

ISABELLE DONOVAN
WEDNESDAY JUNE 29, 2022

I don't want to jump to conclusions or get paranoid for no reason. Seven days may seem alarming for a late period, and I will admit that I've never been late before. But I need to take into account that my body is under duress. That is a perfectly reasonable explanation for bizarre dreams and missed periods. However, I need to consider all possibilities here. I try to imagine this scenario if I was elsewhere, safe in my bed at home. The dreams along with a missed menstrual cycle? No doubt about it.

Pregnant.

Regardless, I remain calm and think about everything with a clear head. Stressing and worrying about the situation won't help anything. So I do my best to remain composed and bide my time until I decide what to do.

I thought about it all weekend. I gave myself deadlines. If I don't get my period by Wednesday, I'll ask him. Today is Wednesday. I need to bite the bullet and just come right out and say it. I have no idea how JD will react to the news of a possible pregnancy, but I guess I'm about to find out.

It's mid-afternoon. I'm sitting in the bedroom by myself and the door is closed and locked. I have no idea where JD is or if he's even home. We haven't spoken since this morning after we had breakfast. He was in a bizarre mood, and I never know what to make of that. Some days he treats me so well, as though I am his equal. Other days, he acts distant and indifferent to my presence, which only serves as a reminder of my true reason for being here. We are not friends. We are not acquaintances. He abducted me from my home and is keeping me here against my will. I need to remind myself of that since I seem to keep forgetting.

I stand up slowly, building the courage that I so desperately need. I knock twice on the door and wait. No response. I walk over to the window and try to see if his car is here. I can barely see anything, but I'm able to make out a sliver of his car in the distance. I go back to the door and knock again. I instantly regret it, thinking that if he's in a bad mood, then now is not the time to spring this on him.

Then I remind myself, it's now or never. Just rip off the Band-Aid.

A few moments pass and I almost think he won't come. But sure enough, the door opens and there he is.

I look at him, take in his appearance. Neat hair, clean-shaven face, alluring eyes. I take in a breath. "I need to talk to you."
"Sounds serious."
"It is. Sort of."
He stares at me, waiting.
"I need you to go to the store and get me something."
"What else do you need? I just went shopping and there's plenty of food in the fridge."
"I don't need food," I say, then wait a beat. "I need a pregnancy test."

_____

I spend the next hour waiting around my room, pacing back and forth, going to the window to peer outside. I try lying on the bed, but then I get bored and restless, so I continue pacing. I check the clock constantly, wondering how long it takes a man to drive to the nearest drug store and pick up a pregnancy test. I told him to buy three.

Finally, after sixty-five minutes, his car pulls in and he enters the house. I stand by the door, waiting. He opens it and hands me the three skinny boxes, tells me to go to the washroom and do this now.

I sit on the toilet, waiting for them to change. All three pregnancy tests stand straight-up on the edge of the sink, staring me down. I don't take my eyes off them. I've done this before, watched the little stick give me two lines instead of one, indicating a pregnancy. I remember how I felt in that moment; excited but nervous. I told Scott right away. He couldn't believe it. We hadn't even been trying. It was an accident. A happy little accident.

I remember how each and every morning, I'd go into the washroom and lift up my shirt, staring at my stomach. It was still flat, nothing protruding quite yet. But still, I'd hold my hands just below my belly button, and I'd smile to myself. A little life was growing in there. A little life that I created. That we created. Scott and me. We had done this. We were going to start a family, create a life together.

But then that was all taken away from us. Four months, that's all we got. Four months of morning sickness and indigestion. Four months of nerves and excitement. Four months of doctor's appointments and nutrition plans. Four months of brainstorming names and planning nursery colors. And then just like that, nothing. Gone. As though she ceased to ever exist.

I'm not sure why life gives us things only to take them away. I'm not sure what terrible thing I could have possibly done in this life to deserve that happening to me, just as I'm not sure what led me to end up here, sitting in a small bathroom in the middle of nowhere, a stranger outside the door, awaiting an answer I'm not even sure I'm ready for. But here I am.

Two minutes pass. Three minutes pass. The tests all change, the lines appearing in front of me. I don't move. I keep watching. Four minutes. Five minutes. He knocks on the door. Sometimes they change. Sometimes they're inaccurate, giving a false reading. But I know they're not wrong. Not all of them. That's why I had him buy three. I don't believe in weighing the odds of a possibility. I need to know for certain, and three tests cannot give me mistakes. Three gives me a definitive answer. And by the looks of the six lines staring back at me, I'd say that I'm pretty certain I know my answer.