Don’t Want to Be Alone
I’m chewing on my bottom lip as I watch the lights and street signs pass overhead.
The ride is quiet, so quiet that I can hear my own breathing,
Every tick of the turn signal, every shuffle of clothing grates against my ears like it’s too loud. Zaid’s hands have a tight hold on the wheel. I watch at his knuckles turn white, watch the way his jaw flexes every time we hit a red light.
The tension increases with every second, and he clears his throat before he finally speaks.
“Jace finally has a girlfriend,” he says out of nowhere. His voice scratchy, rough like he hasn’t used it in days.
I blink, startled, and turn to look at him.
Jace?
We’ve never talked about Jace. I mean, I know who he is. I’ve met him and talke to him before. But why is he bringing him up now?
I have to hold in my laugh, stop myself from asking him why we’re talking about Jace. I give him something because I can tell he’s grasping for normal. For small talk that doesn’t exist right now.
“Oh, yeah? That’s good for him, I guess.”
Zaid nods, once and sharp. His leg bounces a little, the only sign of his fraying patience, his nerves. “Yeah.”
It’s all he says. I don’t think he knows what he’s saying at this point.
I almost laugh. Almost.
The comment is so far out of left field, I can’t believe he’s trying this hard to just talk to
- me.
We fall quiet again; it makes me press my hand to my stomach, even though I already feel sick enough. I focus on breathing. Zaid keeps driving, but the closer we get, the more rigid
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Don’t Want to Be Alone
he becomes. By the time we pull into the parking lot, he’s vibrating.
Is it fear? Anger? Anxiety?
He parks the car with a sharp twist of his wrist, shoves it into park harder than he needs to. He exhales through his nose, fast and harsh, like he’s fighting himself.
I reach out without thinking, placing my hand on his thigh. He stiffens immediately. I leave my hand there, trying to be gentle.
“Would you mind waiting in the lobby for me?” I ask quietly.
I think it might help him a little, but he doesn’t anser.
“It would make me feel better knowing you’re close.”
He turns to me then, and there’s something stricken in his eyes. Something hollow and aching. But after a long second, he nods.
“Yeah, I can do that,” he says roughly.
We get out of the car together, and I feel him behind me, breathing heavy. In and out. His hand finds mine as we walk toward the building, his fingers sliding between mine without asking. His grip is warm and strong, and I don’t pull away. I hold on tighter.
Inside, I check in at the front desk, filling out the forms with shaking hands. Zaid hovers just a few feet away. His eyes stay on me, even when I sit down again. They call my name sooner than I expect, and the knot in my stomach pulls tighter.
I glance at him one last time, but he stays seated, his elbows braced on his knees as he
rocks back and forth.
It’s a terrible sight for me as I walk into the back. The exam room is cold, but the OBGYN is nice enough. I get checked out. They ask me questions. Take samples. And then they tell me the news I was waiting to hear.
Not pregnant.
The words are a relief.
They tell me something else.
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And those words are a weight.
I nod along, but everything is starting to blur, my heartbeat racing ahead of me.
By the time I walk back out to the lobby, my vision has turned hazy around the edges. I take two steps before my knees buckle. Zaid is there in an instant, his arms catching me, steadying me.
“Love.” His voice cuts through the noise in my head, but it’s muted, like he’s speaking underwater. “Are you okay?”
I only shake my head.
He walks me to the car, his hand tight around my waist, and he’s the only thing keeping
me upright.
Once we’re inside, once the door shuts and the quiet swallows us, I close my eyes and breathe. I focus on that. In. Out. Until my pulse slows enough that I can find words again.
“I’m not pregnant,” I tell him, my voice hoarse.
For a second, nothing happens. Then he lets out a slow breath and reaches for me, his hand finding the back of my neck as he pulls me toward him. His lips press to the crown
of my head.
We sit like that for a while.
No words.
Just breathing.
Until he finally starts the car, and we drive home together in silence.
Once we get home, I’m relieved to find it empty. I’m not entirely sure that I can face Jake or Aiden right now. We head upstairs and I start to walk toward my room, but Zaid pulls on my arm, walking me toward his room.
I’m about to protest, but he beats me to it.
“We don’t have to talk, but I don’t want you to be alone right now.”
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My heart lurches.
His thumb brushes circles on my palm. “And I don’t think I can be alone either.”
I fall into him, letting him carry me into his room where we lay together on his bed. I cry, letting the tears fall, letting the tension, the sorrow, guilt and relief rush through me like waves of chaotic emotions.
It’s hard to explain. I’m young. I don’t want to be pregnant, but I had an entire week to imagine a life where I was.
And then to hear the words.
“You are not pregnant, but I want to walk you through what we found, okay?”
I shut my eyes as the memories bombard me.
“Based on your history and what you shared about your home pregnancy test, along with the hormone levels we measured today, it’s very likely that you were pregnant recently. Very early
on.”
I curl into Zaid’s side.
“It’s something called a chemical pregnancy.”
I blacked out the rest of the conversation. I don’t remember it and part of me is glad
about that.
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