So there we were, sitting beside each other in a bustling Tim Hortons, reading-but-not-actually-reading a nondescript issue of the New Westminster NewsLeader, waiting to find out if there was indeed a human-to-be growing inside of my girlfriend’s uterus.
I’m hesitant to say that pregnancy-scares are just another part of growing up. Obviously there’s the factor of some people practicing abstinence, either intentionally or accidentally, and therefore entirely avoiding such distresses in the first place. But aside from that exception, I’m going to take a leap and say that almost everyone who’s been in a heterosexual relationship will have to go through a pregnancy scare at least once in their life.
Our day had started off like most should: lazily and with a stack of pancakes. Over the mess of syrup and battered remains left on our plates, my girlfriend at the time mentioned that she’d missed her last few periods. Even though she was on the pill and sometimes missed a month here or there, she still wanted to take a pregnancy test to be sure. Our lazy morning itinerary of pancakes and hanging out suddenly included a layover stop at Shoppers Drug Mart.
For the uninitiated reader curious to know, you can generally find pregnancy tests in the drugstore aisle under “family planning,” which reads like a twisted joke when you’re young and stupid and scared of what an unexpected pregnancy might possibly do to your life’s trajectory. After declining help from a friendly employee who asked if we needed “help looking for anything in particular,” we settled on a pregnancy test that hovered around the mid-price range (because you don’t want to get the cheapest one, but you also don’t need to pay top-dollar for something you’re going to pee on once and then throw away).
For the uninitiated, you can generally find pregnancy tests in the drugstore aisle under “family planning.”
But as we waited at the checkout and the line grew shorter, I unexpectedly became more and more uncomfortable with the thought of our cashier — a young-looking girl, who in all likelihood was probably around our own age — knowing the real reason why we were visiting a Shoppers so early in the morning. Eager to deceive her, I reached out and grabbed the closest thing: an over-sized Toblerone chocolate bar, one of many that were stacked in a bin and boasting a discount.
“There,” I remember sighing with relief, holding a giant Toblerone in one hand and a pregnancy test in the other, “now it won’t be as awkward.”
After that we ducked into the nearby Tim Hortons and both went into separate bathrooms to do the same thing for different reasons. I remember reconvening outside of the restrooms and pulling up a pair of stools to the nearest counter.
“I set an alarm for three minutes,” she said, a time window too narrow to do anything but too long to do nothing. I grabbed a nearby community newspaper and began casually flipping through pages while my free hand held my girlfriend’s.
Before long, our grasp had grown warm with sweat, though I couldn’t tell if it was from my hand or hers.
