I sighed, partly because I’d already tried to answer that question on the forms they’d had me complete when I got there. “That’s tough. My period sometimes skips—which is why I didn’t worry about missing my period at first.”

  “Do you at least have an idea of the month maybe?”

  “May, I think? It wasn’t April.”

  The nurse had no judgey vibes coming off her, so that helped me feel like I could be honest.

  “Okay, last question. Are you taking any medications or other drugs?”

  “No. But I do smoke.”

  “All right, Casey.” She opened a cabinet door behind her and pulled out a plastic cup with a blue lid. Grabbing a Sharpie, she wrote on the top of the cup. “Did you see the bathroom right next to the scale when we first had you come back?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I need you to leave a urine sample in this cup. Then there’s a little door to the right of the toilet that looks almost like a medicine cabinet. After you put the lid back on the cup, you’re going to put the cup in there and then you can go back to the waiting room.”

  My stomach gurgled and bubbled. “How long will it take?”

  “It shouldn’t take too terribly long.”

  After I peed, I put the lid with my last name on the cup and then opened up the small door in the wall she’d told me about. There was another door on the other side, presumably so she could take out the samples whenever she was ready.

  God. My fate was in that damn cup.

  When I walked back to the waiting room, I saw that the raven-haired girl was no longer sitting on the loveseat—but her boyfriend was. I wondered if not being able to go back with her had pissed him off. I considered saying something, making conversation to pass the time, but I was doing well just making sure I didn’t hyperventilate.

  I figured she was somewhere in the back doing the same thing I’d done.

  The longer I sat there, the more nervous I grew. The magazine didn’t hold my interest and neither did the television in the corner of the room that the young man had switched on after his girlfriend had been called back. But after about fifteen minutes, she rejoined him and he switched the TV back off.

  He asked her, “So?”

  “I had to take a pee test. They’ll let me know when they know.”

  A few minutes later, my nurse called me back into a room. She asked me to have a seat and I wondered how many times a day she had to do this. Fortunately, she didn’t beat around the bush or try to prolong the answer.

  But the words she said stole my breath. “Casey, your results came back positive.” That last word echoed in my ears over and over. Positive? She continued talking but I missed a chunk of it, because I was in utter shock, questioning my senses. When I was able to pay attention again, she was saying, “…have counseling if you’d like to discuss your options. Now, I want you to know, these tests are not one-hundred percent accurate. In fact, you’re welcome to come back and test again in a week.”

  Okay, I was a little up to speed. I exhaled and nodded but couldn’t find my tongue.

  “If you choose to keep the child, we encourage you to schedule an appointment with an obstetrician as soon as possible. Unfortunately, our clinic isn’t equipped to handle that sort of care, but we do have a list of available doctors in the area if you’re interested. If you choose to terminate your pregnancy, I have another list of referrals for you.

  “I know that’s a lot, but do you have any questions?”

  I sat, still numb and disbelieving. Questions…only a thousand. But I had no way to vocalize them.

  “Oh, no, thanks.”

  She kept talking but I’d retreated inside, partially panicked and extremely desperate, but I stood up when she did and forced myself to be polite. “Thank you for your help.” She handed me several pamphlets that I clung to, hoping they’d give me the answers I needed.

  When she led me back to the lobby, she called the other girl back. She and her boyfriend stood up, but the girl stopped in front of me and touched my arm. When I made eye contact with her, she asked, “Are you pregnant?”

  Even though I was well-practiced in the art of deception, this was too raw and recent. I wasn’t prepared to lie, so I just nodded my head. “Yeah.”

  The girl looked worried, as though she could sense my fear, but she said, “Congratulations.”

  It was one of the most awkward conversations I’d ever had. “Good luck.”

  Like a zombie, I plodded to my car and drove home but, hours later, as I sat at my kitchen table looking through all the information the nurse had given me, I couldn’t remember how I got there.

  All I knew was I had the heaviest decision of my life to make—and I just wanted to bury my head and make it go away.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  My first decision—that I thought I maybe wanted to keep the baby—was rational. I’d thought it through and, even though the cons seemed to outweigh the pros, I wasn’t ready to go through with an abortion just yet.

  The second decision was completely irrational and off the rails—but it wasn’t out of character for me. Not by a long shot.

  The only problem was Scott didn’t know that about me. Hell, no one in my present life did, save perhaps my mother and father.

  But the fact that I’d been throwing up, unable to keep what little I ate down, had lost an entire night of sleep, and couldn’t bring myself to talk to Scott about it drove my brain, which already felt cornered, into making that stupid second choice.

  Rational or not, by the time I had to go to work the next evening, I knew what I had to do.

  When I saw Scott, I waved, but I had to track the boss down first.

  As he finished talking to the hostess, I asked, “Hey, Ed, have you got a minute?”

  “Sure. What do you need?”

  “To talk.” He nodded, as if he expected me to spill the beans then and there. “In private.”

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  When we went in the office, I knew he understood I had something serious to say, because he closed the door. He barely sat down before saying, “What’s up, Casey?”

  “I’m really sorry, Ed, but I’m giving you a one-week notice, including today.”

  Ed’s short fuse was burning quickly toward dynamite, but it disappeared just as quickly when the tears welled up in my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  A tear forced itself out of the corner of my eye. “I can’t talk about it, Ed, and I’m sorry if I’m leaving you in a bind—but I have to go.”

  His eyes searched mine, hoping to find answers inside my pupils—but my secrets were stuffed down deep. Then he sighed. “We’ll miss you, Casey.”

  “I’ll miss you, too.” I wiped away a tear and turned to the door but paused with my hand on the doorknob. “Um, Ed, please don’t tell anyone else about this until tomorrow.”

  “No problem. But tomorrow I do have to put out the feelers, so you’ll be on your own. I can’t keep that a secret.”

  “Today is all I ask.”

  “Do you need some time alone in here before you go to the kitchen?”

  “No, I just need to swing by the ladies’ room really fast.”

  Through the dinner rush, I tried to act like things were normal, winking at Scott like I often did while keeping my hands to myself when we were at work so we couldn’t be accused of inappropriate behavior. But my insides were quivering.

  Later on, though, Ed sent me on my break and told Scott he could leave. I went out back instead of hanging out with him in the parking lot. I should have talked to him, but I was afraid to. I wasn’t ready. When I stepped outside, I was surprised that lots of employees were taking their breaks now that the rush was over. They were having fun, enjoying the cool summer evening. Chattering, friendly, happy. And I wanted nothing to do with it.

  Hell, I didn’t want to be around any of these people right now, let alone all of them.

  Before I could sit down, I heard the door open behind me. I turned to see Scott, and he touched my arm. “Casey, what’s the matter?” he asked softly, trying not to make a scene.

  “Nothing.”

  “Come here.” He took my hand, leading me behind the storage shed. By now, everyone at Bob’s knew we were dating, so they probably just thought we were going to get hot and heavy in the fifteen minutes I had. What made that okay was I knew no one would come back there to disturb us.

  But I wasn’t ready to talk.

  I could hear cars driving by the restaurant on the other side of the fence, but the noise from the employees taking their break was now a dull roar. The light from a streetlamp poured into the area, so I could see Scott’s face. “I’m not stupid, Casey. What’s wrong?”

  “Can we talk about this later?”

  His eyes scanned mine, and I realized I was doing a shitty job at hiding my emotions. “Have I done something to upset you?”

  “Oh, no, Scott. It’s nothing like that. It’s not you.” He hugged me and I let myself fall into his arms, wishing I could just get lost there. But I felt like a child ripped from its mother’s womb when he pulled my shoulders back so he could look me in the eyes.

  “Casey, you’re crying.” He wiped away a tear with a finger. “Talk to me. I won’t believe it’s not me if you don’t say something. Did Jim do something again?” I shook my head. “Your ex?” Shaking my head again, I pursed my lips, trying to maintain my composure and keep my eyes focused on him.

  “Scott,” I sobbed, “I’m leaving Winchester.”

  His expression told me he was processing my unexpected information, not knowing if he should believe me. Then he let go of my shoulders, almost as though my flesh was burning his hands. “Why?”

  Because I’d been a practiced liar in the past, I knew that the best fabrications are based in truth—so I gave him an embellished lowkey version of what I thought would sound plausible, because I wasn’t going to tell him the real full reason I was going. “I need to find myself. I don’t know—have never known—who Casey really is. I’ve always had someone in my life to rely on. From my parents’ house to college roommates, to boyfriends, to marriage, to this. I’ve never been alone before, never had to depend completely upon myself. I have to learn. And I’m not getting any younger.”

  Scott’s eyes told me more than whatever words were going to come out of his mouth—that I made no sense and, at best, I was frivolous and flighty; at worst, stupid and pathetic. “I can’t stop you.” Looking down at his feet, he shoved his fists into his pockets, like jamming emotions down deep inside. “So…that’s all we’ve become? Something you call this?” He clenched his jaw as though he was holding something between his teeth.

  Fuck…he was pissed.

  But I knew he was hurt. There was no mistaking it in his voice, even though I couldn’t see it in his eyes. I touched his arm. “Scott, it’s—”

  He pulled away as if I were holding a hot iron to his arm. “Casey, if you need to find yourself, you need to start now.” His jaw rippled as he inhaled a deep breath. “When are you leaving?”

  “At the end of the week.”

  I couldn’t see his eyes well enough to interpret what he was thinking. “Okay. I hope…you find what you’re looking for.” His voice, now low and calm, didn’t betray him, either.

  And then he turned and walked away before I could say another word.

  “Scott! Scott!” I wasn’t going to chase him, not with all the people just around the corner. So I steeled myself, taking a deep breath and wiping my cheeks, and tried to look casual as I walked around the corner of the shed to watch him leave. But some of my coworkers stopped talking to stare at quiet, brooding Scott, leaving without a word, and then their eyes shifted to me. Was it my imagination that there were heavy accusations in their eyes or was that my guilty conscience nagging me?

  * * *

  David and I worked the lunch shift together the next day, and, even though it was the last week in July and we were in a hot kitchen, it felt like I was visiting the South Pole. And, thanks to David’s anger towards me, the entire restaurant now hated my ass.

  After hardly saying anything during the biggest part of the rush, David finally looked at me and pointed the long metal spatula in his hand at me. “You promised. You promised not to use him, Casey, and you lied.”

  “I didn’t use him, David. And I didn’t promise you shit.”

  “You knew.” He gave me a look that crushed me. “And you broke his heart anyway.”

  What the hell could I even say to that?

  David wouldn’t have listened anyway. I’d broken his best friend’s heart, and there was no forgiveness to be had.

  So, when I was leaving work and saw that I had a voicemail on my cell phone from Lewis, I expected to be excoriated by him as well. I had no reason to anticipate love or understanding.

  But, of course, I hadn’t told Lewis yet. I called him back and he invited me to stop by his house. Soon, I was there, still in my work clothes. “Would you like something to drink, Casey?”

  “No, thanks, Lewis.” I did, however, take the seat he offered. “I hate to do this to you and it’s super last minute, but…I’m leaving Winchester.”

  He blinked a few times and then cocked his head. “So are you telling me because you need me to keep an eye on the house—or are you planning to move out?”

  Why the hell were tears threatening to fall again? Hadn’t I cried enough in the past few days?

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t think I can afford the rent while I’m away. So I guess I’m going to pack all my stuff and see if my parents can store it in their garage or something.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes.” We were on a month-to-month, not a lease, and I felt like a real asshole.

  “Well, my daughters keep telling me I just need to sell the place—and now that you’ve given everything a fresh coat of paint, maybe I should. That was what I wanted to talk to you about but I guess you’ve taken that burden off my shoulders.”

  “Do you need me to pay for August?”

  “That wouldn’t feel right if you’re going to move out before the first.”

  I could do that if I focused—and now I had nothing better to do with my time.

  * * *

  I’d left Isabel a message and she finally called me back when I was in the middle of packing up everything in the kitchen, but she said I could come by that afternoon.

  I walked in with a giant box of paintings and drawings. “What’s that?”

  “I’m leaving Winchester, Isabel.”

  “For how long?”

  “For good.”

  I didn’t know if the frown on her face was directed at me, because it was her default expression. She reached under the counter and then handed me a check. “This was from the sale of your last two paintings. The good people of Winchester—and tourists—are eating up your work. I think leaving right now, just when you’re getting hot, is a mistake.”

  “This is most of my recent stuff, Isabel. You can sell it and it’ll be like I never left.”

  “I don’t want all your stuff, Casey.”

  “Then give it away. Or toss it. I don’t give a crap.” Goddamn, the woman was like a glacier. Even angry, she was surrounded by a layer of ice and she engaged in a staredown with me. “Fine,” I said, picking up the box off the counter, “I’ll just toss it in your dumpster out back.” Sure, the box was full of creative moments, sweat, tears, inspiration, heartache, but I couldn’t take it all with me. I had to trim as much fat as I could, because my Versa was tiny and my parents could only spare a closet. It was as if my life was having a clearance sale.

  I’d only taken two steps when Isabel said, “Wait! I can maybe figure out something to do with it.”

  I placed the box on the counter. “Thanks, Isabel.”

  “We need to inventory it, though, and sign a contract.”

  “I’m telling you I don’t care. Do with it what you will. Pay me if you want. I just can’t take it with me.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Casey. If you make anything, how am I supposed to pay you?”

  Fuck. I just wanted to leave already. “Would you be able to mail checks to my parents’ house?”

  So that was what we agreed upon and I got the hell out of there so I could finish packing for the thrift store that was taking the bulk of my kitchen items and most of my clothes. Maybe somebody could get some use out of them.

  Because I sure as hell wouldn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Mom and dad knew I was bailing but they didn’t know why. The night before I planned to leave, I brought a carload of stuff to store there, and mom asked me to stay for dinner. There was nothing like mom’s cooking, so I agreed. Besides, I hadn’t seen them much the past few weeks.

  “This looks amazing, mom.”

  “Thank you, Casey.”

  My dad spooned out a heaping mound of mashed potatoes. “So your mom and I were wondering what your plan is, honey. Do you have a job somewhere else?”

  This was the part I’d been dreading: the conversation. “No.”

  “Where are you going, Casey? Back to Denver?” I sprinkled dressing on my salad as mom continued. “Maybe…reconciling with Barry?”

  My emotions got the best of me. “Dammit, mom, would you get over Barry already?”

  “When I talked to him last week, he said—”

  “You talked to him? Last week? Are you kidding? Mom, Barry and I are over for good. We are never getting back together. Never ever.” My mom’s eyebrows raised, and I half expected a scolding. “If you want to stay friends with him, fine, but that ship has sailed for me.” I didn’t know if my mother honestly loved Barry or loved the idea of Barry, so I didn’t feel like ruining her image of him—but enough was fucking enough.

  Dad looked uncomfortable, but concentrating on his chicken didn’t provide enough distraction. “So if you’re not going to Denver, where are you going?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I thought about driving down to Peru or Chile—I’ve heard the Andes are a sight to see. Or even California or New York, but I really don’t know. I’m just going to let my heart lead me.” So that was complete and utter bullshit. My heart was with Scott—and I was running away from him.

 

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