Friday Night, 11:01 PM
May. 8th, 2009 10:01 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsEverything changes.
The urge to vomit was back. This time, it wasn't because of the way that eggs smelled, or the homeless guy's B.O. on the Subway station, or the frigging lemon-scented antiseptic the janitors used at NYU. Jennie could feel her gorge threatening to rise, but this nausea was purely psychological. She completely and utterly hated waiting.
It was late, stupidly late. She had wanted to wait until everyone had gone to bed or was out so there would be no one to sneak up on her, or to find her out. This is why she was in her tiny suite bathroom leaning on the sink, a piece of pink plastic in her hand. This was just for precaution's sake, she told herself. All will be well. She sighed and spun her phone around on the countertop. She was using it as her timer. She stopped it and checked it. No calls. Of course.
Travis wasn't returning any of her phonecalls. Still. She still wanted him. Wanted to see him. Talk to him. Sort things out. She thought in patterns and in equations, and everything always had a firm answer. Jennie didn't have hers from Travis. And she needed that. Her heart and her body just ached. She couldn't sleep, couldn't keep anything down from the barfing. But Marnie had assured her it was just heartbreak. The nausea, the aches, all totally normal. And what with all the stress, it was also totally normal to skip a period. She was on the pill, after all. The test was just a precautionary measure. "Simple, easy and accurate results! Two lines for Yes! One line for No!" The box promised. The clerk didn't even make eye contact as she'd purchased it along with a magazine and a pack of gum.
She checked the time on her phone. 11:01. Another minute to go. Her phone had remained traitorously silent all week. No texts from Travis. No calls. No voicemail. Nothing.
In a way she was kind of glad he hadn't returned any of her rambling voicemails. Some were pleading, one was through tears, to just please, talk to her. She was desperately sorry about what had happened at the bar in Brooklyn. But all there was from Travis, was silence.
She hated being this way. All wound up over someone. If this is what love was, really was, then Marius most definitely had the right idea about it. She felt like a weak little puppy, always chasing people around and going "Love me! Love me! Please love me!" She'd run to Travis to help her forget her confusion over Marius. And wound up making her whole life a hundred times more difficult, and painful. Jennie made a face at herself. That was her whole problem, really. The cool, calm and above-it-all persona masked someone who loved too much. Too hard. She just felt too much.
Jennie shook the pregnancy test in her hand. As if that would give her the results faster. She squinted at it as the lines started to form. She scrambled for the box, knocking it off the sink and onto the floor. Jennie bent quickly to retrieve it, reading the side while still crouched on the floor. She stood quickly, feeling a little dizzy. She held the pregnancy test next to the box, and what the results meant.
She blinked, rubbed her eyes, shook her head, but the results were still the same.
Two little pink lines. That's all it takes to change your life. Jennie leaned her head against the bathroom mirror, and her legs went numb.
Two little pink lines, and she never felt more alone.
The urge to vomit was back. This time, it wasn't because of the way that eggs smelled, or the homeless guy's B.O. on the Subway station, or the frigging lemon-scented antiseptic the janitors used at NYU. Jennie could feel her gorge threatening to rise, but this nausea was purely psychological. She completely and utterly hated waiting.
It was late, stupidly late. She had wanted to wait until everyone had gone to bed or was out so there would be no one to sneak up on her, or to find her out. This is why she was in her tiny suite bathroom leaning on the sink, a piece of pink plastic in her hand. This was just for precaution's sake, she told herself. All will be well. She sighed and spun her phone around on the countertop. She was using it as her timer. She stopped it and checked it. No calls. Of course.
Travis wasn't returning any of her phonecalls. Still. She still wanted him. Wanted to see him. Talk to him. Sort things out. She thought in patterns and in equations, and everything always had a firm answer. Jennie didn't have hers from Travis. And she needed that. Her heart and her body just ached. She couldn't sleep, couldn't keep anything down from the barfing. But Marnie had assured her it was just heartbreak. The nausea, the aches, all totally normal. And what with all the stress, it was also totally normal to skip a period. She was on the pill, after all. The test was just a precautionary measure. "Simple, easy and accurate results! Two lines for Yes! One line for No!" The box promised. The clerk didn't even make eye contact as she'd purchased it along with a magazine and a pack of gum.
She checked the time on her phone. 11:01. Another minute to go. Her phone had remained traitorously silent all week. No texts from Travis. No calls. No voicemail. Nothing.
In a way she was kind of glad he hadn't returned any of her rambling voicemails. Some were pleading, one was through tears, to just please, talk to her. She was desperately sorry about what had happened at the bar in Brooklyn. But all there was from Travis, was silence.
She hated being this way. All wound up over someone. If this is what love was, really was, then Marius most definitely had the right idea about it. She felt like a weak little puppy, always chasing people around and going "Love me! Love me! Please love me!" She'd run to Travis to help her forget her confusion over Marius. And wound up making her whole life a hundred times more difficult, and painful. Jennie made a face at herself. That was her whole problem, really. The cool, calm and above-it-all persona masked someone who loved too much. Too hard. She just felt too much.
Jennie shook the pregnancy test in her hand. As if that would give her the results faster. She squinted at it as the lines started to form. She scrambled for the box, knocking it off the sink and onto the floor. Jennie bent quickly to retrieve it, reading the side while still crouched on the floor. She stood quickly, feeling a little dizzy. She held the pregnancy test next to the box, and what the results meant.
She blinked, rubbed her eyes, shook her head, but the results were still the same.
Two little pink lines. That's all it takes to change your life. Jennie leaned her head against the bathroom mirror, and her legs went numb.
Two little pink lines, and she never felt more alone.
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