Baby's Breath

Chapter 12: test

I was just driving, wasn't I? The time had finally come and it all felt surreal. My car hummed, too cheerfully, at the stop light. Why did the sun have to be so soft and yellow? Everyone in their cars looked peaceful with their wives, the kids in the back bouncing around in their beautiful church clothes.

My heart ached with envy and I longed to fast forward the next year. My breaths quivered through my lips, and it took me by surprise that the windows hadn't fogged yet from my heavy breathing. The moment of truth was finally here and I was terrified. Mom knew that I needed to clear my mind and take a little Sunday drive because thinking of my baby brother had me shaken up. And it did. So shaken, in fact, that it ripped my insides up.

The supercenter looked abandoned from my end at eight in the morning. Who'd be crazy enough to shop so early and on a Sunday morning? Exactly. I slammed the door behind me after parking, and jumped from the echo. Did anyone hear me? Did I look suspicious walking alone, sixteen, to a huge store all by herself?

The floor stretched on and on as I made my way toward the pharmacy. Back where the feminine hygiene section was. Perfectly normal for me, right? By the time I reached that aisle, the air thinned drastically to the point that I had to stop for several deep breaths. Even that made my vertigo worse. To my horror, there were no pregnancy tests beside the condoms by the maxipads. Where in the world would they keep them? Where? I just wanted to go in, go out, and go home without any problem.

My mind went numb and I trembled from the sudden foil of plans. After going up and down every aisle, a flash of heat hit me and the sudden sweat soaked through my clothes. A person stepped from around the corner with her grocery cart and I jumped from my skin. Luckily she didn't see me. I ducked my head and ran for my car.

The dollar store would have them. I'd seen them once while shopping for silk flowers with Mom. My foot involuntarily weighed the gas pedal down and it lurched from my parking spot. Not expecting this, I clutched the steering wheel like I would have if going down a thousand-miles-per-hour rollercoaster hill and screamed. I was way too tense for my liking and I realized that I needed to relax.

Five minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot and my heart sunk. There was only one car there, but that was not the worst of it. The sign said closed. Maybe they would open later? Could I really wait a few hours? Would it look normal if I stepped out to see the hours?

The car hummed, and I sat there, wondering. After swearing at myself for being such a chicken, I drove forward and parked. My nerves had gotten the best of me because I fumbled from the car and lost my balance and fell on my way to the door. The cement bit into my thigh and I cried out.

Why was everything happening to me? Clambering to my feet before anyone could see, I limped to the door. An involuntary sob broke from my chest when I read the sign. Closed on Sundays.

"What?" I squeaked, my body tensing at the same time. I could've saved nineteen dollars! I'm confused, what did she spend $19 on? I spun around and staggered back to my car. I locked it and just sat there, tearing the white part of my nail off between my teeth as my mind tripped frantically about in half-panicked thoughts. What if I come back tomorrow after school? Could I wait that long? I stared longingly at the door, wishing it would open. After ten minutes, and feeling dejected, I drove off. Silly that I kept glancing in my rearview mirror, right?

I kept my eyes straight ahead as I passed the supercenter. It was worth waiting to save that much money, and I couldn't afford to waste a single dollar. The whole money thing is confusing, clarify please.

By the time I reached my neighborhood, my tears soaked down my top. My hair plastered to my face from heavy sweat, and my hands couldn't keep still. At the stop sign, I stared into nothingness. The same old horror attacking my nerves. The question of what if haunted me. I couldn't really wait another twenty-four hours or so of waiting, could I? I needed to know now.