Chapter 2
I didn't go home that night.
Chloe Lane, the night shift clerk, was three years younger than me. She handed me a blanket and some water, and didn't ask any questions.
Late at night, I woke to a dull ache in my belly. I touched my stomach and felt the tiny life inside.
It was still there.
The water was fake. Chloe told me later it was just lemon water she'd made, put in an empty bottle to bluff people.
She said when she saw me sitting there staring at the pot, I looked like an abandoned cat.
"You'd drink anything at that time, right?" She handed me a fresh cup of water and added, "So I thought, let me trick you first and give you a distraction."
I laughed, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face.
The more I cried, the more I started to tremble.
Not from the cold. Because I finally realized something—he had come out to find me.
But what for?
Was he here to take me home, or just to keep yelling at me?
If he really cared, why didn't he come when I was crouched in the corner counting to five thousand?
If he really cared, why did he storm in shouting, "Are you done yet?"
"Are you okay?" Chloe asked.
I shook my head, then nodded, not really sure myself.
"I don't know," I whispered.
At dawn, Chloe's boyfriend came to pick her up. She sent him home and stayed with me.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
I watched the sky grow light outside.
"I don't know," I said.
That morning, I went to the old part of town on the south side. My parents' home was there.
Standing in front of the rusted security door, I hesitated for a long time. The last time I'd come was during Christmas. My mom said, "Emily bought us a new TV." My dad said, "Emily's work has such great perks."
No one asked how I was doing. No one noticed my slightly rounded belly.
I knocked, anyway.
My mom opened the door. The first thing she did was look behind me and ask, "Just you? Where's Michael?"
"Mom, I—"
"Emily's here too. Come in," she interrupted me.
In the living room, Emily was on the couch, fruit on the coffee table. She saw me and her expression flickered, but she quickly put on her usual smile and said, "Sophie's here? Sit down. I'll peel you an apple."
She was acting like nothing had happened last night.
I stood still by the door.
"Where's Dad?" I asked.
"He's lying down inside. His back's been bothering him," my mom said. "You need him for something?"
I looked at my mom and at Emily peeling an apple on the couch, feeling incredibly tired.
"Nothing, I was just passing by."
"Perfect timing." Mom pulled me toward the bedroom. "Your dad's been talking about you girls. Emily just got us a new massage chair; it's so comfortable. You should try it."
She dragged me into the bedroom.
My dad was lying in bed watching TV. He didn't look away from the screen. "You're here?" he said.
"Dad, I—"
"Emily's company is hiring. Ask her if she can get you a cushy job. That publishing job is pointless. How much does it even pay?"
I stared at his profile, the TV light flickering.
"Dad, Michael kicked me out last night," I said.
He finally turned his head.
"You made him angry?" He frowned. "You're pregnant. Can't you be more understanding? Men are under a lot of pressure. Can't you cut him some slack?"
"He locked me out all night. I was in my pajamas, no phone, no money."
"But didn't he take you back in?" My dad waved his hand impatiently. "Couples argue, but they always make up. Stop running home to us every time something happens. What will Michael think of us?"
I stood there, speechless.
My mom chimed in, "Exactly. Your sister said yesterday that Michael was so polite to her. He even had the kitchen make her favorite dishes.
"You just don't know how to behave. Look at your sister—even married, she still visits us often. And you? We barely see you."
Emily appeared at the door, holding the peeled apple, looking perfectly innocent. "Sophie, don't take last night to heart. Michael was just too concerned about me. There's really nothing between us. Don't get the wrong idea," she said.
I stared at her face.
That face, about a third like mine, radiated kindness and magnanimity. It broadcast "I'm innocent." And "You're the one who's immature."
I didn't take the apple.
"I'm leaving," I said.
"Leaving already?" My mom followed. "You're not staying for dinner?"
"No."
"Then be good with Michael. Stop throwing tantrums."
I didn't turn around.
Leaving my parents' house, I stood at the intersection, not knowing where to go.
No phone, no wallet. I couldn't even remember Michael's phone number. We always just messaged each other.
I walked back to the convenience store.
Chloe was still there. She saw me, asked nothing, and poured me water.
"Can I borrow some money?" I asked.
She took out 500 dollars and pressed it into my hand.
That night, I stayed in Chloe's rented partitioned room. It was small with only a bed and a closet, hardly room to turn around. But it was warm.
Chloe went to her night shift. I lay on her bed, touching my belly.
The baby was still moving, lightly, like little fish blowing bubbles.
I started thinking about what to do next.
I had no money, no job, and nowhere to go. I was six months pregnant. No company would hire me. Go back to the Reed residence? I didn't want to knock on that door again. Go back to my parents' house? That wasn't my home.