Did You Get Your Period?

CHAPTER THREE.

The phone rings for a long time before Vaibhav picks it up.

"Hello?" He says, she can hear the smile in his voice and this makes the edges of her mouth go up.

But she forces herself to focus, turning her back to her sister and Riddhi who look at her very curiously, "Hello, Vaibhav. I need to talk to you. Is this a good time?" She asks, nervously.

This earns her a sharp rap on the shoulder from her sister who whispers fiercely, "Tell him it's urgent."

"Yes?" He says, his voice still teasing. "If I had an afternoon schedule, I'd clear it for you."

"So, here's the thing." She says, smiling despite the anxiety. "It's a little bit troubling. Uh, I am, um, late. Late for my period this month." Shweta says, closing her eyes and biting her tongue just after the words leave her mouth. Wondering if she was too blunt, she smacks herself mentally. Her entire face turning red, the same color as the lady's sindoor on the pregnancy test cover.

She hears the pin-drop silence on the other side of the phone and she feels her heart slowly sinking. Please say something, she thinks.

"Shweta." He says, voice dropping to a whisper. "Shweta, does that mean you're fucking pregnant?"

"I don't know for sure. I'm just going to take the test now." She says wishing he'd given a better reaction. But given the circumstances, she knows that he's absolutely shocked. It's not like they'd ever talked about this. Or a relationship. Or love. And now to think that they were indirectly discussing babies!

"Damn." Vaibhav exhales noisily and then hurriedly adds. "Is this phone on speaker? With my cousin?" He asks.

"No, it's not. Why do you ask?" Shweta asks suspiciously.

"I want you to listen to me before you go for the pregnancy test." He takes a deep breath, "This doesn't change anything between us. All of this fooling around hasn't just been that; not for me. So, if you're carrying my child, fuck that's scary, then I'll be here to take the goddamn blame and ask you on a date. And if you're not as well, do I get a date?" He asks, his voice heavy and turbulent.

Shweta's eyes fill with tears and she almost wishes that she'd put the phone on speaker.

"You do." She whispers and adds, "I'll call you in some time."

Shweta enters the bathroom for the second time in a row. She closes the bathroom door and takes a moment to take in the surroundings.

The cool blue tiles, the showerhead, and the array of shampoo and conditioner are arranged on the shelf. She looks around breathing it in knowing full well that the next time she enters it, she might be a mother.

Mother, the enormity of the word settles uneasily at the bottom of her stomach. She's not sure if she even deserves the word. She's not certain if she's going to keep the baby. She knows that almost everyone around her would vote for abortion; having a baby at seventeen would affect her entire career and life ahead- she's not certain it's going to be in a good way. But she's afraid that she's going to have to live with the guilt of killing her own flesh and blood if she were to take an abortion. The baby might just be a mass of cells- but it would be her mass of cells growing within her with blind trust. The guilting of an age-old patriarchal system that had used this very emotional blackmail to further its propaganda: woman, the child vending machine.

The Pinterest generation of practicality beseeches her; she knows she will not be able to keep the baby. Life isn't a fairy-tale romance where she could simply run down the sunset with her semi-boyfriend and the probable baby. It involves going through a series of tests and trials at her- all of which are only better if fought with a stable income by her side. The mere thought of changing diapers, coated in baby vomit and poop is enough to make her recoil, her face scrunching in disgust.