17

00:47:00

When the money came in, she went to the pharmacy to do something with this missing period. She bought a test. She pissed on it.

Twice she checked the manual and the result on the plastic stick.

And a slow realization that she was no longer alone came to her slowly but with a serious impact.

Then she received a note.

‘Why are you so loud these days?’

She came to the door.

‘I’m pregnant’.

‘That’s why were you crying?’

She didn’t answer. She was still digesting the missed concert. She couldn’t afford at the moment to go abroad and relive the opportunity she missed so recently. Life sucked.

‘What are you going to do with the baby?’

‘Don’t know.’

That was honest. The shock and disbelief were present as never before.

‘Where is the father?’

‘Don’t know.’

She honestly wasn’t sure if it was her ex. Or maybe this Steve/Mark, or what-was-his-name. She couldn’t really tell.

‘Are you going to keep it?’

That was too much. She had just discovered that she was pregnant and he was interested in her maternity plans. She decided to go out to have room for thought.

‘Want something from the shop? I’m going out.’

He didn’t answer. Apparently, he could order his stuff online. She went out and pondered over one unexpected point in her agenda.

Now the tragedy struck her even more. She had no flat. She had no decent job. She didn’t really know who the father was. And there was one more thing. She really hated children. It wasn’t the hatred she experienced when seeing a child. A pure annoyance at the baby’s cry or bad behavior. It was a deeply-rooted process that happened in her mind since her early teens, was over-analyzed and digested. She knew that she would be a bad mother. She never had an interest in children. She knew how difficult the process of bringing up a child was. She was babysitting. Way too often. Exhausted after a few hours with a child, she was glad that afterward, she was childless and carefree. She could go back to her things, her peace and quiet, her favorite hobbies and pleasures and she couldn’t imagine those people having a child for twenty-four hours seven days a week. The child was not only hard work. It was a responsibility for the rest of the child’s life. It required new toys bought, clothes frequently updated, food provided, medical healthcare guaranteed. It required nappies changed, the stench of poop tolerated, all bodily functions managed. It consumed time. Oh yes, the child required so much time devoted to it, to its plays, homework, and tasks. It required constant attention. And then, after years of nourishment, nurturing and taking care of, it suddenly grew adult with its sexual needs, parental negligence and the need to experience all the things the parent wanted to experience when young, but due to the above-mentioned child, simply couldn’t. It required money. Money for new toys, money for education, money for housing. She herself had no money on her own. How could she share something she didn’t have and buy something she couldn’t buy for herself. Her parents were poor. Her father was sick. She was the only child, so she could experience the student’s life. Otherwise, after high school, she could just as well have been forced to work.