The Test (Part Three)

It was decided, well, you decided, that you would take the test at Harry’s. That way you wouldn’t have to struggle hiding anything, because he knew, and you aren’t afraid to hide anything from him. You smile to yourself, grateful to have someone you can so easily confide in, and without the worry of it getting back to your mother somehow.

“Alright?” your dad asks chuckling to himself.

“Yeah, I’m alright, just looking forward to seeing him, that’s all.” You answer with a pleasant smile. You hear the engine revs increase in answer to your reply. Dad winks at you. You check your watch, less than an half an hour now.

***

The dim fog of sleep beings to evaporate, and you are left to become aware of your surroundings. There is a thin layer of warmth that covers you, but you know that as soon as you shift, either to your back, or your front, all and any of that heat will disappear. But still you move, eager to stretch some of that sluggish slumber out of your body. You wriggle and extend your feet. A cotton-like ice meets your twisting toes. Your eyes open, shocked, and dilated against the blue dawn light, and you are aware of your surroundings. The disappointment, the fear, and that severe loneliness hit you brutally, and today is the day you wish you hadn’t woken up, especially without him. You turn your head towards him and see his stiff back, cold shoulders. Momentarily you shut your eyes and imagine the mornings you have awoken safe and warm in his arms. You are scared, and so alone, but unfortunately this knowledge does not knock you back into a resigned slumber, but leaves you awkward and unsure of yourself, with a queasiness in your stomach. Today you sit the test. Today you get the results.

You turn your head away from him; you can feel tears welling up in your eyes and you would hate for him to see that, for fear that he would make no attempt to comfort you. You wonder why this sudden absence, what have I done? Perhaps you shouldn’t have told him that you might be pregnant, maybe that why he’s so ‘off’ with you. You’re suddenly quite anxious to take the test, there’s some kind of strength flowing through you now, something bordering on hope. A small smile broadens your face, if you’re not pregnant things will go back to the way they were before.

But if you are…that smile quickly fades as the worry bubbles in your gut. You have to take it. You have to take it now.

Hesitantly you dip your arm into the fresh air of the cabin to retrieve your mobile, retracting it back into the warmth as soon as you grasp it. You flick it open, the bright, unnatural light repels you, and you squint against it. You’re just able to make out the time; 5:20 exactly. You slide it back onto the chest of drawers and pull the duvet further over you, shut your eyes and try to get back to sleep.

There's a burning sensation in between your legs, it builds in the moments or minutes that you lie there counting sheep with the daybreak growing lighter behind your eyelids. You get to 86 white, fluffy, cartoon-like sheep that have floated over the fence when the burning gets too strong to ignore. You need to go. You haul yourself out of bed quickly; legs out of the bed first—goose pimples stand up, spreading up your body as you uncover all of yourself. You look back longingly at the bed, at Harry, but the burning is impatient and you head to the kitchen. When you reach the door you find he left it half shut the night before and you’re not sure if this is a door that squeaks. You never cared to notice… you haven’t exactly had to sneak around after hours for midnight snacks in this place… you take a firm hold of it and pull towards you… it squeaks and scuffs across the carpet. Sharply you turn to check on Harry; he’s still sleeping.

You focus on him. Really look at him, and take in each detail, slowly, to try and impress it on your memory. You start at the bottom and make your way up. You can just make out a little chest hair in the ‘v’ of his t-shirt, a red one that clashes horribly with his hair. A crooked smirk twists your lips as you linger on the sight. You can remember the feel of it under your hands, under your nails as you lightly scratched his chest that one time. You raise your eyes to his chin; thick stubble covers it, but the dimple has been left clear, an indulging smile lights up your face, your eyes move from his dimpled chin to his cheeks and you remember describing him to your mates not long after you’d first met him. You chuckle internally, you’d described him as Moomin, and you were right, especially when he smiles; it lights you up inside just like a child might. To a point, you consider, even though he is such a… man in everything else, he still maintains that childish quality in his looks. Oh yeah, and that time with his new torch, bless. Over the moustache, you pass over the nose; they’ve always seemed a bit weird to you, just like feet do. Feet; you shudder at the thought, and the cold. And over to the eyes. They unnerve you slightly, though you can’t think why. You know he’s sleeping, his slow, paced breathing tells you that he is, but his eyes are slightly strained, you continue upwards to find that his eyebrows and forehead bother you too. You bite your bottom lip and mirror his appearance; you frown. You’re teeth sink deeper into your lips, it worries you that he should be frowning in his sleep, what could be so troublesome…but, then again you doubt you’ve been looking a picture of ease in your sleep recently.

But there is nothing you can do about it right now and so you quickly grab the pack out of your bag and totter off to the kitchen. You’re already desperate for a pee, but you pour yourself a glass of water anyway, to be doubly sure, and take it into the lounge, settle on the couch and down to the instructions again.

You don’t pay much attention to them, your eyes glaze over and you watch the blurred lines left to right, top to bottom. You think of nothing. Just waiting for time to pass. Your eyes look up from the leaflet to the window. The sky is now a yellow-pink hue, and the room is immersed in the intense morning light. You sigh peacefully, oddly at ease and move towards the French doors to admire the view. The fresh morning has left a thin layer of frost over the grass, it softly sparkles in the shadows, and where the sun has touched dew glistens.

Looking at this image you think it could be spring, you can imagine now the daffodils and the snow-drops re-awaking from their hibernation, flowers and romance blossoming in the basking sunlight, and the stereotypical spring lambs. But it’s not spring, its autumn, and everything is dieing. Life is shutting down, retracting into the depths of the earth, there to stay safe and warm until spring does come. For a moment you envy the plants and the animals. You wish you could disappear to somewhere warm and safe. You thought you had found a place like that; you look around his cabin, feel the cold, and feel that even here you are rejected. The sun suddenly doesn’t feel all that bright and warm.

Your head drops to your right, you search the dining table for a watch; there are three, neatly lined up and positioned, this pisses you off for some reason. You grab one, a Citizen Eco-Drive, not that you care but it’ll probably come up if it hasn’t already. A surge of anger spreads through you; you feel the need to hurl it, scratch it, damage it in someway, just to get back at him. For what you don’t know, or because you want his attention, you want him to notice you; you want him to react somehow, rather than his chilly nonchalance. Once again the sun feels colder and darker.

Checking the time you see that you have managed to lose about three hours, it’s now nearly eight o’clock. You walk into the kitchen; put the glass of water by the sink, you didn’t drink any and a good thing too, you don’t think you can hold it in much longer, and pick up an empty Corner yoghurt pot from last night on the way through to the bedroom. You’re not even bothering to creep about silently now, and so almost thud down the hall and into the bedroom. Walking in you see that he is still asleep, anger overrides the love you felt earlier, you can’t be arsed to wait any more, and don’t care to wake him gently neither.

“Harry.” You wait for a response, he answers with rhythmic deep breathing. “Harry!” you nearly shout.

“Yeah?” he groans, squinting at you.

“I’m taking the test now.”