The very next week, I have my first missed period. The timing seems perfect. But my cycle has been so irregular I don’t want to have false hopes. I decide to wait a few days before taking a pregnancy test. After buying an EPT from Eckerd, Joel and I drive to a local Italian restaurant. We discuss how maybe our disappointment will be less or our excitement tempered if we find out our results in public. We order two baked ziti dinners and I go to the bathroom. After preparing the test, I slip it back into the bag without looking, wash my hands and return to the table. I lay the bag in front of Joel.
“It takes five minutes,” I say, holding up five fingers.
As we wait for our meal, my husband and I don’t speak, just eye the bag constantly. At the five-minute mark, he pushes the bag toward me. “You look.”
I push it back. “No, you.”
A waitress comes to our table and sets two plates down in front of us. “Don’t touch the dishes,” she says. “They’re real hot. Just came out of the oven.”
Joel and I smile at her words.
She wipes her hands on her apron and asks if there’s anything else she can get for us. We both shake our heads, anxious to get back to the matter at hand. As she backs away from the table, I eye the bag again.
Joel takes a deep breath. “Ready?”
“Please, just do it.”
He peeks inside, tilting his head slightly. I watch his face as he tries not to give anything away. His eyes narrow and he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. How long does it take to read a simple pregnancy test? Finally, he pushes the bag toward me. “You’d better take a look at this.”
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