Foto bij 144 - Emma


I can’t believe how calm Lucien is being about all of this. Granted, it’s not his body this baby might be growing in, but still.
This is one of the most adult things I’ve ever had to do besides rent an appartment or be a maid of honour, yet I still couldn’t look the cashier in the eye when I put not one, not two but three pregnancy tests on her counter. She didn’t bat an eye, just scanned all three of them, Lucien’s disgusting candy, some painkillers and, ironically enough, a pack of condoms in case this all turns out to be one big fever dream.
I hand him the candy he’s asked for, watching how he puts about five of them in his mouth at once before driving off.
He doesn’t bat an eye, doesn’t ask any unwanted questions. Is he really this calm, or is this all an act and is he freaking out on the inside?
In the mean time, I realise my bladder is fuller than it should be. It probably didn’t give me any signals because I was to stressed out, but now we’re about twenty minutes away from home I can’t hold it in any longer. We’ve only been driving for a few minutes as I tell Lucien to stop at the side of the road.
“I know this is terrible timing,” thinking of the three tests that I’ll have to take later today, “but I’m about to piss my pants.”
He shakes his head, laughing. “There’s tissues in the glove compartment... It’s probably that bottle of water you drained in two seconds.”
I roll my eyes, grabbing the tissues and opening the passenger door as soon as we come to a full halt in the middle of nowhere. “Give me a second.”
      I can relax a little more with an empty bladder, but with that stress gone the whole pregnancy thing starts kicking back in.
Knowing Lucien isn’t mad at me is a relief, that’s for sure, but I’m still terrified. What is it I want, what is the right thing to do?
“Should we talk about this?” I look out of the window, scared to look at him because that might cause a full emotional breakdown.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” he really doesn’t sound mad, his voice equally as calm as it usually is, “you almost hit me when I used the word preg-,”
“I was stressing out, okay?” I interrupt him, still not quite ready to hear him say the word, “but we should still talk about it. Or... I should talk, I guess. I’ve been thinking, and I know this isn’t what’s good for us. We’ve been together for what, two months officially now? We’re in no position to have...,” I can’t finish the sentence. Can’t say the word. Baby. Having a baby. Pregnant. It’s terrifying to me. “So I think it’s best for the both of us to look into..,” another word I can’t say out loud, because it would make it too real. “well, removing it.”
It’s silent in the car for a while, the only sound is the radio that’s on for whatever reason.
“If that’s what you want,” Lucien finally says, she’s focussed on the road. “I’m okay with that. It’s your body,” his hand squeezes my thigh. “I’ll support you no matter what, okay?”

When we get to the house, I’m clutching the little plastic bag against my body like I have to protect it with my life.
I empty the rest of the contents of the bag on the small bar table in the kitchen, but not before shutting the curtains. No one needs to know what’s going on in here.
It’s a funny view, I must admit, but all I can think about it taking these things and getting it over with.
After peeing on the side of a road, though, my bladder is nearly empty and there’s no way I’m going to be able to take a test, let alone three different ones.
I chug about seven glasses of water, Lucien watching me carefully as he’s chewing some of that gross candy.
Now all there is left to do is wait until I can pee on these sticks.
I’m getting more and more nervous by the second, something Lucien must notice.
“Will you let me hold you?” he asks, still standing in the hallway, looking at me. I put the glass down on the counter and nod, making my way over to him.
It doesn’t make my panic disappear, but it sure as hell helps for a bit. He’s not mad at me, he loves me no matter what I decide to do.
My decision has already been made, though, or at least I thought I made it as soon I found out about this possible... mistake. Is it a mistake?
Whatever it is, I thought I knew what to do. Now, though, I’m not too sure that’s the right thing anymore. My brain might tell me it is, but my heart keeps on trying to get into the conversation more and more, even when I tell it to shut up.
I don’t know for how long we stand there, just quietly holding each other, but slowly the urge to pee kicks in.
I don’t give in immediately, appreciating this moment for what it is. Either just another moment between Lucien and I, worrying about something that was never even happening. Or, possibly, the last moment between the two of us before a big decision. The difference is in a single line on a plastic stick.
Prying myself out of our embrace, I grab all three of the boxes, holding them up for Lucien to see. “Well....,” this toilet has never felt as ominous, “here I go.”
I don’t want him to be there as I use the bathroom, but as soon as I flush and am sure I’ve taken all three test, having laid them upside down on the sink and washing my hands, I open the door. “Now all we do is wait.”

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