Page 49 of Seein’ Red

“Ugh!”

She storms past me, not bothering to hide her annoyance. Not that she usually does, but today it’s extra.

“Willa, talk to me.”

I watch as she pulls on a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, covering herself. It’s probably for the best. God only knows I won’t be able to get a rational thought in if she’s standing in front of me naked.

“No, Nash, I don’t know anything. I didn’t get a chance to do anything but taxes on Monday, and yesterday when I did manage to squeeze in a minute to pee on a stick, I couldn’t read it. Because, believe it or not, those two little pink lines aren’t as clear as the TV ads lead you to believe. Then, when I tried to test again, you come barging in, and I drop it in the toilet. So now that you have an update, you can see yourself out.”

She still doesn’t know. The knot in my chest tightens, the uncertainty of it all still eating away at me. But more than that, her anger sparks something in me. I get that she’s upset. That she’s frustrated and scared and worried and a million other things. However, she’s not alone in that. No matter what she thinks. And if she thinks that she gets to be mad at me about all this, or that I’m going to let her go through this alone…well, it might be time I prove her wrong.

“Maybe if you hadn’t ignored me, I could have been here with you while you took it, so that⁠—”

“I don’t need your help to pee!”

“It’s called moral support.”

“I don’t need that either. At least not from you.”

Turning on her heel, she storms into the kitchen. I follow, like a puppy who can’t understand why his owner is upset, ready to do what I need to so we’re on the same page. The page that has us facing this together. That’s my mission this morning. To get her to understand that I want us united in this.

So far, I’m doing a shit job.

Willa pulls a mug from the cabinet, pushing the small button on her single brew coffee machine. I know better than to ask her to make me a cup, so I continue to stand here, like a useless piece of furniture, waiting on her to acknowledge me.

She doesn’t though, continuing on with her morning routine. Including standing in front of the sink, opening a little orange bottle, and dumping a large white pill into her hand.

“What’s that?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“None of your damn business,” she answers, popping it into her mouth.

I grab the bottle from her, twisting it so I can read the label. Augmentin. An antibiotic.

“You’re on an antibiotic?”

“Again, none of your business, but yes. I got an ear infection. Doc Galindo said it’s because I wear my earbuds too much.”

“Can’t that mess with your…er…timing or whatever?”

I reach into the depths of my brain, trying to remember all the conversations the girls have had over the years. They’ve never been shy to talk about all that kind of stuff around us, no matter how many times we asked them to stop. I’ve no doubt heard more about periods and birth control than any thirty-year-old single dude should have.

However, all that girl talk did lead to the very basic knowledge that antibiotics and birth control aren’t friends.

“You mean my cycle?” She phrases it like a question, but there’s no doubt it’s a reprimand. Vocabulary term noted.

“Yeah, that.”

“Not how it works.” Willa’s eyes narrow and she stalks toward me, her pointer finger outstretched. “Let me explain this to you. They don’t make you late. They screw with the effectiveness. I am on a ninety-day pack of birth control, which means to mess with that timing, it would have needed to be in my system weeks ago. That pill was the last of a ten-day prescription.”

“Oh…”

“So nice try, trying to get off the hook here, but⁠—”

“Get off the hook?”

It’s now my turn to cut her off. She doesn’t need to continue for me to see where she’s going with this. And that’s not how this is going to play out.

I step into her, closing the distance, so now there’s only a few inches of space between us. “It takes two to tango, Princess. And every inch of you was a willing participant in everything we’ve done. Enthusiastically too, by my recollection. You don’t get to blame this situation on me.”