Читать книгу The Consequences - Colette Freedman - Страница 19

CHAPTER 12

Thursday, 26th December

There were four shelves of pregnancy-testing kits, all in neat, discreet boxes, most of them in a blush pink with the word accurate built into the title, and most promising instant results. The large print said ninety-nine percent accuracy, while the smaller print suggested that results might vary from person to person and to consult a doctor.

Stephanie walked up and down the shelves, picking up toothpaste and shampoo—which she didn’t need—before she eventually grabbed the first box she looked at and walked toward the counter. The Walgreens was practically empty, and she was bundled up in a heavy coat she’d borrowed from CJ, so she knew she was unrecognizable, but she felt like a teenage girl buying a packet of condoms before the prom. On an abstract level she found her embarrassment almost amusing; where was the gutsy, ballsy executive who ran multimillion-dollar advertising campaigns?

The Hispanic girl behind the register checked the toothpaste and shampoo through the scanner without even looking at her, but stopped when she came to the pregnancy-testing kit and turned it over in her hands. Stephanie noticed that each nail had a tiny glittering stone set into it. “Oh, this one is very good,” she said. “I used it myself.”

Stephanie felt herself begin to color. “And is it accurate?” Her tongue felt too big in her mouth.

“I used it a week after I missed my period, and it was able to tell me that I was pregnant.”

“Oh. Good. Congratulations.” Stephanie didn’t think the girl could be older than seventeen, maybe younger, but it was hard to tell.

“Thank you. Little boy, called him Chavez after his poppa.” The girl bagged the items, took her cash, and made change in one smoothly practiced movement. “Have a nice day,” she said, smiling brightly.

“Thank you,” Stephanie said as she walked away. She chuckled at the girl’s naïveté. Starting off the day with a pregnancy test was not her idea of having a nice day.

The second she got into the car, she opened the box and pulled out the single sheet of instructions. They were fairly straightforward, and she glanced back toward the store, wondering if it had a bathroom, then shook her head at the absurdity of the thought; she didn’t want to discover if she was pregnant in a Walgreens restroom. Turning the key in the ignition, she gently eased her father’s Buick out onto the road. The snowplow had been through earlier, and the streets had been salted, but she was still not entirely comfortable driving, and she crept home, the needle hovering just under thirty. Although home was only a three-mile drive, she felt the journey lasted an eternity.

Option one: If she were pregnant, she would need to return to Boston, meet with Robert, talk about the future.

Option two: If she weren’t pregnant, she’d stay in Wisconsin through the New Year, enjoy her family, and return to Boston to start afresh. She would concentrate on her job, rebuild her boss Charles Flintoff’s confidence in her. And ensure that she never saw Robert Walker again.