WHEN I GOT HOME from work on Tuesday night, my mother was sitting on her bed, pairing socks, and all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball on her lap and cry.
I felt sick to my stomach as I hovered in the bedroom doorway, trying and failing to come up with the words needed to express just how terrified I felt in this moment.
“Back for round two?” Mam asked, flicking her gaze to me, referencing the blazing row we had this afternoon over her walking into my room unannounced, of all things. “Or are you finally ready to tell me what’s wrong with you?”
Mam, I’m scared.
Mam, I’m in trouble.
Mam, I need a hug.
“What’s troubling you, Aoife?” she pressed, concern filling her eyes. “You’ve been standing in the doorway for ten minutes now, clearly trying to work up the courage to tell me something? Out with it.”
“I…” the words wouldn’t come out, and I shook my head, trying again, “I…”
Again, nothing came out.
“I’m sorry,” I finally managed to squeeze out, voice strained. My cheeks were flushed, my skin was on fire, and the plastic stick I had tucked in the pocket of my coat caused my heart to seize up with dread. “For taking your head off earlier.”
“That’s not you, love.”
“I know.”
“Is it Joey?” she asked then, setting down a pair of socks and giving me her full attention. “Are you two having trouble again? Because I thought you sorted everything out with him.”
“I did,” I replied, expelling a harsh breath. “We’re fine.”
Mam frowned. “Then what’s with the lonesome face?”
“I’m just…. I’m…” Shaking my head, I cleared my throat and mumbled, “Tired. I’m just really tired, Mam.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?” She didn’t look convinced. “Because you know you can tell me anything.”
“I’m sure.” Forcing a smile, I nodded and slipped away, moving straight for my room.
Closing my bedroom door behind me, I made a beeline for my bed and dove under the covers, fully clothed, shoes and all.
With the duvet over my head, I slowly withdrew the pregnancy test from my coat pocket, the one that had taken me twenty-four hours to work up the courage to use.
The two glaring pink lines in the display box hadn’t faded one bit since their original appearance in the bathroom at work tonight.
And there it was.
Staring me right in the face.
My life was over.
