I could see it. The line was faint but it was there. If I twisted and turned the plastic stick with just the right light the red became more vibrant. My eyes were starting to play tricks on me from hyper-fixating on the little window. I could swear the line was getting thicker or maybe even a third unprecedented one was joining in on the fun. No. I needed to stop. I stepped on the pedal stool bin and discarded the evidence. I double-checked the sink, floor and walk-in robe just to make sure I didn't leave behind any scraps of the pink wrapper to reveal itself to Ryan. I scrubbed my hands, nails, even the delicate webbing between my fingers and let the water run until it got too hot.

 

Ryan came home with a big grin on his face and a box of leftover brownies from work. I returned his smile and asked how his day was.

He let me take the first bite of brownie so I got most of the choc-chip to chew on. With his thumb, he wiped a big glob of chocolate from my lip and laughed. "What did you do today?" Ryan asked as he started unpacking his workbag. Shit. What had I done today? The real version of my day consisted of one early detection pregnancy test, four videos on conceiving (although some of these mummy Vloggers seem unnaturally fertile) and reading Baby Stages for the third time. "Mm, not much. Just cleaned and read a couple of books," I said without making eye contact. Ryan accepted my response and made his way to the en suite for a post-work shower. I flopped back on the couch trying to unthread the knot of guilt in my stomach.

 

The buzz of Ryan's shaver was rhythmic and almost soothing as I curled onto the couch. He'd be all clean and smooth with a fresh attitude...perhaps enough to discuss taking a test on the weekend? Maybe doing some cooking would calm my thoughts. When I sliced through the second capsicum he joined me in the kitchen by wrapping his arms around my tummy and resting his chin on my shoulder. He asked if I needed some help so I turned to face him. "No, you go relax. Tell me more about your day," I said hoping to sound light and breezy. The smell of his cedar wood and sage aftershave remained in the kitchen even when he nestled comfortably into the couch. He looked happy, peaceful even. It's not that I was completely unhappy but I was restless. How could he just sit and properly unwind? Why couldn't I be that indifferent toward our future?

 

Once I served up dinner Ryan grabbed my left hand and massaged small circular motions with his thumb. "This is nice isn't it?" he almost cooed. I agreed but the words came out before I could filter them. "Yes, and just imagine when our little one is here in between us at the table!" Ryan's eyes narrowed and his nostrils did a weird little flare exposing some straggly bits of hair. He put his fork down and stared out the window. Here we go. I was in for a lecture; I braced myself by gripping onto the cushion of my seat. But Ryan didn't open his mouth, just pushed his chair out and made his way to the en suite. My fork clattered as I scrambled to get up and follow his hard footsteps. When I entered the bathroom he was holding up my pregnancy test at an arm's length between his finger and thumb like it would infect him. Looking at Ryan was how I imagine innocent creatures felt before gargantuan prey devoured them. I honestly didn't know if his look would kill that last bit of hope in me. I didn't want to find out.

 

I swiped my keys off the bedside table and got in my car before Ryan said things he couldn't take back. I had no plan, no destination but I just couldn't accept the shame that was about to be piled onto me. I headed west towards the coast and turned my radio up to try and drown out my thoughts. The line was there. It was there when I looked. I'm pregnant. It's not in my head. But if it were there, wouldn't Ryan have apologised? Hugged me? Told me he loved me? The doubts started to chew at me like rats gnawing at electrical wire. The line was light but I SAW it. I killed the engine once I found a parking spot and rested my head on the steering wheel. When I finally looked out my windscreen the sun had set enough to cast grotesque shadows of the sand dunes and scrub thickets.

 

I wondered what the shadows were doing to my face. Did it illuminate the purple flesh under my eyes or make my eyebrows look knitted together? I knew exactly what words Ryan was going to say because this would be the last time he said them. He promised me that if I went down the path of conception one more time we were done. I know we can't have a baby. Technically. But maybe if we tried hard enough and believed enough or even studied enough it would happen. It had to.

 

Lauren McLennan grew up in the northern suburbs of Perth, Western Australia. Lauren has been published in the Night Parrot Press micro memoir anthology Ourselves. She teaches high school English and lives with her husband and rescue cat.