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Two Minutes
Well, you’re going to fix this, right? Tanner’s words echoed in my head as I closed the bathroom door, fumbling with the small cardboard box in my hands.
We didn’t even know if there was a problem yet, and he was already forcing me to promise to fix it, as usual. I looked down and stared at the box in my hands, blinking back tears and biting my lip.
I glanced at myself in the mirror wondering how big of a mistake I'd made by not listening to my mother about the libido of teenage boys. She didn't know anything. Her mistakes would never be mine. Bad things weren't supposed to be able to happen to me. After all, I was the girl who was meant to go to Yale and even more importantly, I was going to be different than my mom.
I could feel my heart sink to the pit of my stomach as I read the directions. They made it seem so simple, like there was nothing to it. I tried to believe that, struggling to convince I was going to be okay. It was only a two minute process, not a big deal. It felt unreal, knowing that rest of my life was to be determined by the answer I was holding in my hands.
I thought maybe if I never tried to get an answer I would never need one. Because maybe if I ignored it then it would just go away, or maybe if I never needed to pee again then I could avoid the whole situation. I had nobody to blame but myself and I knew nothing could be done about it. All I could do was hope for the best. I could only hope for Yale and for differentiation from my mother.
“Deep breaths, Vikki,” I told myself as I fingered the perforations on the box.
I could hear Mom moving around outside the bathroom. I reached over and locked the door, I couldn’t let her see. Mom was quiet for a moment. I wondered what she was thinking, if she knew. She knocked softly. I jumped tearing the box open and spilling its contents on the counter.
“Honey, are you okay? You've been in there since you got home from school.”
“I'm fine Mom, just feeling a little under the weather.”
“Your stomach again?”
“Yeah. It's okay though, I think I just ate too much lunch.”
“Okay. Well, let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks Mom. I'll be out in a few minutes.”
“Alright, Sweetheart take your time.”
I tried to clear my mind as I swam around in a sea of my denial. There was no turning back now, I had to do it. The box was open and my bladder was beginning to ache. So much for never needing to pee again. Tears rolled off of my cheeks as I sighed and allowed myself to give in to whatever fate awaited me. I read the instructions over again as I relieved my bladder.
“You can do this. You have to do this. It’s only peeing in a cup. It’s only two minutes.”
I could feel myself shaking as I reached for the white and blue plastic popsicle stick and set it in the cup. I bit my lip and tried to focus on anything but my situation. I heard Tanner’s words in my head again. Well, you’re going to fix this, right?
I felt time begin to dilate and I realized I didn't know how to fix it. I imagined what my life would be like if there really was a baby. I knew Tanner would leave me, typical boy-- too immature to be a father. There was no way I could care for a child, especially by myself. But I didn’t know if I could give it away, let alone get rid of it. Mom would hate me for letting her down. She would never say that she hated me. She would just remind me that I was supposed to be the girl who went to Yale-- the girl who she could live through vicariously, the girl that didn't make her mistakes.
I paced the bathroom floor, biting my nails and watching for the little plus sign I feared. I counted the seconds in my head, knowing this would be the last time I ever needed to be good at math. Two minutes was gone, but I wasn’t done kissing Yale goodbye. I wasn’t ready to lose my mother. I reached out anyways, taking a deep breath as I peered at my future through the small, plastic window.
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I've watched many of my peers go through situations like this and it inspired me to create a work addressing the problem. I felt that it wasn't something that was often talked about in other teen fiction. I often read works of my peers and when they focus on romance and happiness rather than reality.