When the Stars Align

Liza

My fingers fidget with the Clearblue box. It drops to the ground, and I bend to pick it up, trying to keep it in my shaking hands. A tear slides down my cheek and tickles my nose; I wipe it away.

I hold the long, plastic stick in my hand and stare at it. Placing the blue cap onto the wastebasket beside me, I watch as it rocks back and forth before it settles into place. I have the strongest urge to pee, so I point the tip down and wait five seconds before I pull it away and put the cap back on it.

Five minutes later I take a nervous breath in and blow it out, then I do it once more before I pick up the test. I close my eyes as I flip the test over in my hand. The results face me now, but I hesitate to open my eyes.

Just look at it.

When I do, my hand flies to my mouth and I let out a cry from the stall. Footsteps click, clack into the restroom. A shadow creeps under my stall door, and it wiggles as she knocks.

“Everything all right, hon?” she asks.

I sniffle. “I wouldn’t exactly say that, but thank you for checking on me.”

After gathering myself, I grab the test and all the garbage that came with it and push myself out of the stall. Before I can make it out, my stomach turns, causing me to throw my trash to the ground and lean over the toilet. Soft, white tissue hangs in front of my face, and I hesitate to grab it. Looking up, Ollie stands there with a small smile.

I let out another cry. “I can’t believe this.”

Ollie gets on the floor beside me, rubs my back, and rests my head on her shoulder. “I know, Liza. What are you gonna do?” she asks.

I shrug. “What else can I do?”

“You have options, you don’t have to do this,” she says.

I wipe my eyes, which have poured a stream of tears to run down my face, and lick my lips. The saltiness of my tears intrudes into my mouth but manage to swallow it back. My head weighs itself down as I walk to my car, get in, and start the engine. I slam my hand against the steering wheel and lay my head down. I breathe fast—panic attack

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

I repeat this until heat no longer bursts through my lungs.

Ollie rests her hand on mine and laces our fingers together. “You got me, hon. I promise I’ll be by your side.”

I smile and nod. “I know. I don’t know what I should tell Daniel. I mean, we broke up two months ago. He has someone new.”

Ollie shrugs. “It’s up to you, but I support whatever decision you make.”

I nod, grab my phone, and find Daniel’s contact.

Hey, D. I need you to meet me at the café across campus. ASAP, please. Need to talk, it’s important.

I can be there in 10, Liza. Hope everything is okay.

See you soon, we will talk when we get there.

Ollie squeezes my hand, and I head toward the café. I park next to a bright blue Jeep Cherokee and almost hit it with my door as I rush out.

Ollie says from across the parking lot, “If you need me, just text. I’ll be here.”

I put my thumb up, turn around, take a deep breath and walk into the café. It doesn’t take long to find Daniel—not only is he the only young one in here, but his hair is hard to miss. He has long, black hair that he lets hang in front of his eyes. Those eyes, they are a vibrant, bright blue like a clear sky, which is what drew my attention to him in the first place.

I blink the thoughts away; not right now, Liza. I shake my head and take soft, small steps to his table.

He stands and pulls out the seat across from him. He’s such a gentleman. He’s made from something you read in books; he always pulls your chair out, more often a woman’s than a man’s. If you walk with him on the sidewalk, he places his hand on the small of your back and guides you to his left side. After a long date, he walks you to your door and gives you a kiss on the cheek before he says goodnight. He’s almost perfect.

But not yours anymore.

I put my head down and look at my hands, which fidget with the hangnail that lies on my thumb. I pick it off, but red liquid seeps out. I bring it to my mouth, suck, and wrap a napkin around it. Three small red drops appear on the table, and I wipe them away.

Daniel stares at me. “It’s been a while.”

I nod. “It has.”

He plays with his fingers, anything to not make eye contact with me.

If it’s awkward now, wait about five minutes and let’s see how much we can beat that.

I reach into my pocket and my fingers hit the warm plastic that contains the test results. I sneak it out as we order drinks, and I hold it on my lap out of his view. In bold letters it reads pregnant +; I place it onto a napkin as I take a deep breath.

Daniel watches me, notices what it is and yanks it up. He looks at it for a few minutes, then hands it back to me. The stick shakes in his grasp as he holds it out, and after I grab it from him, he lays his head on the table.

“When did you find out?” he asks.

I stare at the floor, so as not to look into his eyes. “I found out today, about ten minutes ago. I texted you as soon as I got the results.”

He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Shit.”

I chuckle. That was my thought exactly.

He rises from his seat and walks to mine. He stretches out his hand and gives me a small smile. His knees hit against the floor with a thud.

His hand rests on my stomach when the waitress comes over with our drinks.

“What’re we gonna do?” he asks.

I shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know. I need to tell everyone first, then go from there.”

He lets out a breath and stands up. I close my eyes as the minty scent roams to my nose and I breathe it in.

“I can’t do it, Liza,” he says.

My eyes go wide, and I blink a few times.

Did I just hear that right?

“Excuse me?” I ask.

Daniel backs away from me. “I can’t do it. I just started college, I have so much I want to do with my life, and this will jeopardize that.”

He’s got to be joking, right?

I laugh. I cover my mouth to try and stop myself, but it still escapes. My shoulders shake from the laughter and he backs away from me further.

“I’m just gonna leave you alone,” he says.

“You get me pregnant, and you get to just walk away?” I ask.

He nods. “I don’t want this, not with you. Not anymore.”

Okay, so he wasn’t kidding.

The smile that was on my face fades, and I nod my head at him.

“Gotcha. I’ll take the test then and be on my way out. See ya,” I say.

He reaches for his phone and dials someone.

Janet. I roll my eyes at the name.

He paces back and forth. “Hey, babe. Could you meet me at the café across campus? Okay, love you, see you soon. Bye.”

He hangs up, walks in front of me again, and stops. I ignore him and walk towards the exit, but he grasps my arm. I blink, pull my arm away from his hand, and wait to see what he wants.

“Don’t say anything to anyone around here, I don’t want Janet to know,” he says.

Prick.

Janet pulls up in her Mustang, grabs her purse, and clicks the button on her keys a few times. The lights flash to let her know the car locks. I shuffle out the door and her eyes catch mine. She waves, gives me that I-stole-your-boyfriend smile, and flips her hair in my face as she turns her back to me. Like an idiot, I watch as her lips smack hard against Daniel’s and she stares at me as she does it.

I roll my eyes and rush across the street to my car. Ollie lets out a soft snore with her mouth wide open. I chuckle to myself and slam the door. Ollie jumps out of the seat, eyes wide, arms flailing in the air as if she thinks she’s falling from the sky, and she turns to me. If looks could kill, well, I’d be dead.

I shrug my shoulders and start the engine. I check the parking lot for pedestrians before I put the car in reverse and pull out into traffic. Ollie straps her seatbelt on, relaxes into the seat, and flips the radio off. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

She’s staring.

“Yes, Ollie?” I ask with a smile on my face.

“So. How’d it go?” She nudges my arm.

I give her a smirk. “Just great. He wants nothing to do with me or the baby. Apparently, he is getting somewhere with his life and doesn’t want to jeopardize that. I still need to tell my parents, and you know how well that will go.”

The smile fades from my face—panic attack—and my breaths speed up. It’s like a kid with asthma who’s in need of an inhaler.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

I repeat this process until my breaths return to normal.

“Calm down, Liza. Everything will be okay. You don’t have to do this alone, you know that, right?”

I sigh. “They usually say ‘the more the merrier’, but I somehow doubt that will work in my case right now.”

We stop at the dollar store at the corner of our street and I grab another test, one of the cheaper versions this time. Kids run along the sidewalk as I walk in; their friends race ahead of them on bikes.

I’m going to have that soon—a kid.

I sit in front of my house for quite some time before my mom comes to check on me. Ollie squeezes my hand, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and gets out of the car. I watch as she walks across the street to her house.

I wish I could be her right now.

I remember when I first saw Ollie.

Her short, bright, blonde hair was in pig tails, which made her look bald from a distance, and she had beautiful, bright blue eyes. The shoes she was wearing were ones that I had been wanting, the kind that lit up when you took a step. I watched as her parents, at least that’s who I assumed they were, carried boxes from their car into the house. My mom was watching me in the front yard; I was writing with chalk, and I went up to her with my best puppy dog eyes.

“Mommy, can I go say hi?” I asked as I pointed across the street.

“Sure, honey. Make it quick though, they are the new neighbors and I’m sure they have a lot going on,” she said and went back to reading her book.

That day, I marched across the street to that blonde-haired girl. I said hello and asked if she wanted to come play. We’ve been inseparable ever since. Ollie is a tall, beautiful woman now, whose hair falls to her butt and is an ashy shade of blonde. She is on the heavy side, but with her height you would never be able to tell. Her eyes are still a blue, but not as bright; they look like the Caribbean, a blue green.

“Honey?” my mom says, which snaps me from the memory that invades my mind.

I nod, rush out of my car and into the house. The brown paper bag swings in my hand and brushes against my leg. I get into my bathroom, close the door, and get ready to take the second test.

False positives are a thing, right?

My life isn’t ruined, is it?

My doorknob rattles and shakes as my mom tries to get inside. A tap on the hard, wood is what gets my attention most. I snap my head up, eager to open the door for her, but I can’t.

I’m sorry, Mom. I need to do this alone.

But… can I?

“Honey, everything okay?” my mom asks.

Her question echoes through my mind: No, Mom. I’m not all right.

I see her feet underneath the door; she has on her favorite black slippers, the ones she only wears on her lazy days. Her foot taps against the floor. The spot where her toes would usually be visible brushes against the bottom of the door. Her heel comes into view; she must have turned around. She will give up and walk away, I’m sure of it.

I start to cry. I let it all out. She wiggles the doorknob again, and I stand up to let her in. The lock clicks when I unlock it; my mom turns the doorknob within a second and rushes in.

“What’s going on, honey?”

She rests her hand on my arms, rubbing up and down with a soft touch. This is how she used to put me to sleep, except she did it along my back and through my hair. She uses the tip of her nails, a back-and-forth motion, and sometimes small circles, but enough to help. I love when she does it because my anxiety calms down. I wipe my hand across my nose to catch the snot before it falls to the floor.

The brown paper bag that houses the new test sits on the floor beside the toilet, and I walk away from my mom. My hand grabs hold of the box inside and I hesitate to pull it out, contemplating what it will mean, but do it anyway.

She’ll find out sooner or later. I guess sooner is better.

She balls a hand into a fist and brings it to her mouth. I jump when she wraps her arms tight around me, and my eyes widen as she takes the box from my hands and opens it.

“It’ll be okay, honey,” she says.

Her eyes land on mine, glossy with tears, but she blinks them away. I do it, for the second time today, and wait the standard time frame. My mom paces while I sit on the edge of the bathtub and tap my foot against the linoleum floor. It’s cool against my feet but warms up the longer I stay there. As soon as the alarm echoes through the room we stop what we are doing.

Please be negative.

Please

Be

Negative.

Our backs straighten up. We walk over to the sink, and I pick up the small plastic stick.

How does three drops determine pregnancy?

No five seconds in my pee, only three little drops of it?

That doesn’t seem reliable.

I flip the test over, where the results face me, and let out a small cry—I’ll be having a lot of those today.

Right there, plain as day: a small dark pink line on top, and a light pink line on the bottom. Faint, but not so faint that you struggle to see it. It’s noticeable from far away. I drop the test to the floor and lean against the door. My mom scoots herself down beside me.

“What’re you gonna do, Liza?” my mom asks.

I shrug my shoulders. “I have no idea, Mom. I have to tell Dad first.”

My mom lets out a sigh. “I don’t know what he will say, honey, you know how strict he is.”

I nod and a tear runs down my cheek. I wipe my face, grab my mom’s hand and help her off the floor. Her hair is in a messy bun today and her face is bare, not even lip gloss. Her bright green eyes are like fresh leaves on a tree. The usual pair of jogging pants hangs from her waist, but the oversized t-shirt covers up the waistband.

“Lazy day?” I ask.

She smiles at me and gives me a hug.

I fix myself up, walk out of my room and take the stairs one small step at a time, pregnancy test in hand.

“Dad?” I say from the kitchen.

“Outside, honey, grilling up. Perfect day for a cookout, right?” he says from the patio.

I walk outside where he stands at the grill, noticing the steaks in front him as I look over his shoulder. I sit in a chair that’s nestled across from him. Sunlight shines down on me; it casts a bright, warm glow on my face, and I raise my hand up to block it from my eyes.

“Hey Dad, can I talk to you for a second?” I ask.

He stops what he’s doing and comes to sit in the chair next to me. My breath gets quick, I close my eyes, and start my exercises for the tenth time today (that’s an exaggeration. I think). He grabs hold of my hand, his soft fingers wrapping around mine, and I open my eyes. The contact from his hand sets my tears free; tears that I was trying to hold in. He pulls me into him, rubs my hair, and I take in the scent of seasonings. Backing away, I take a long, hard look at him.

Today, he wears a pair of khaki shorts, a black-shirt, and a pair of black sandals (yes, guys can wear them, too). His facial hair is neat and straightened up at the edges. The tan of his skin shows well with the black t-shirt. His usually dark brown hair shows lighter in some spots, where the sun has hit it most. He scoots himself closer to me, chunkiness poking out a little from his pants, and rests his hand on mine.

Don’t cry again, Liza.

I wait for the tears to spill out again, but they don’t.

“Honey, what’s going on?” he asks in a softly, which turns my gaze away from him.

I shake my head. His tone won’t be soft much longer.

I stand up quickly and hold out my hand with the test in it. His back is to me as he walks away and the door slams behind him. The vibration beneath my feet as it connects with the house makes me jump. I sit on the chair, head in my hands, and cry everything out. A soft touch caresses my back and I know it’s my mom.

“What do you think he’s gonna do, Mom?” I ask and wipe my nose.

She walks around to sit next me, moves a strand of hair from my face and looks at me with sad eyes. A tear slides down her cheek to her mouth, and her tongue pops out to catch it.

“Liza, I don’t know,” she says. “Give him some time to process. Let’s clean up, we can try this another time.”