May 15, 2009

November 2001

We sat on the edge of the bathtub waiting in silence. I imagined that this could be the moment when everything changed, the point at which we departed from the path we were on and went down another for the rest of our lives. We might look back at this day in the bathroom affectionately, saying, “We freaked when we found out. Remember that?”

After another moment he looked at his watch and said, “Okay.” I bit my lip and got up and went to the sink to have a look.

“It’s negative,” I said quietly.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, negative,” I responded, looking at the test again, just in case it had changed all of a sudden.

He let out a deep breath. “I’m kind of disappointed,” he said softly. I looked up in surprise.

“What?” I asked incredulously.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’m relieved. We can’t handle a kid right now. But I’m kind of disappointed, too.”

'Scratch that,' I thought. 'Maybe THIS is the moment when everything changed.'

No comments: