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This is awkward

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A few seconds after Rebecca peed on the stick, it read pregnant. She didn’t need to wait three minutes like it said on the box.

Fuck. She was still sitting on the toilet with her pyjama pants around her ankles. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Being pregnant when you don’t want to be is bad. It’s even worse when you’re supposed to be social distancing. She definitely wasn’t six feet apart from the guy she met on Hinge. He definitely wasn’t a member of her immediate family.

Rebecca wondered if anyone believed in immaculate conception anymore.

She felt a wave of nausea coming on. She grabbed her phone off the counter and slid off the toilet to lie on the floor. Once there, she pulled up her pants. She wasn’t completely without dignity.

Over the past week, she’d learned morning sickness is nothing like a hangover. You don’t feel better after you throw up. You still feel nauseous and exhausted. It’s best to lie down until the feeling passes.

It was a mistake to sleep with that guy. What was his name again? She opened the dating app and looked for his profile.

“Profile cannot be found.”

He had unmatched her.

Where are you supposed to go to get an abortion? Do you call your regular doctor? Or do you go to a special abortion doctor?

Rebecca remembered her friend Stacey from high school. She got an abortion in grade 10. Her 25 year old boyfriend got her pregnant. It seemed really cool to date a 25 year old back then. It’s not until you’re older that you realize the 25 year old should probably be in jail.

Rebecca celebrated her 35th birthday two months ago with a Zoom cocktail party. After three old fashioneds and a bottle of red wine, the guys on Hinge were looking a lot cuter than usual. She started chatting with someone. Brian? It definitely started with a B. She remembered how old he was. 25.

She opened Facebook and went to her old friend Stacey’s page. It had been awhile, but maybe Stacey could tell her where to go to get an abortion. Stacey’s profile picture was a photo of her with her husband and three kids.

Rebecca opened Instagram. She typed “Brian” into the search bar. The first result was her Uncle Brian, followed by Brian she used to work with at Best Buy. She scrolled through the results until her thumb started to get sore. No one looked familiar.

Still lying on the bathroom floor, she tried to remember more details from that night. She remembered he came straight from work. And he brought beer. From Henderson Brewery.

Henderson Brewery! That’s where he worked!

Rebecca went to the Henderson Brewery Instagram page. The brewery was an essential service, still open for business. A post from a few days ago showed her baby daddy packing up an order for delivery.

She tapped the photo and his Instagram handle popped up. Brent Travers. Not Brian. At least she got the first letter right.

He had blonde hair. Their baby would be cute. She clicked on his handle. His page was private, but she could see his profile picture was him with a girl. Could be his sister.

She clicked the direct message button.

I am pregnant, she typed. She deleted it.

Hey, I’m pregnant, lol.

This is kind of awkward, but… 

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