Everybody these days liked to get things off their chest, so it was simply a matter of time before Hannah found out I’d hooked up with Amber during Halloween weekend. Maybe when my mom went to college, a person could do one thing at one school and not have the other school hear about it, but that was before Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat. People posted pics, instant messaged, and took screenshots all in some vain effort to stay relevant. I wasn’t a fan.
Hannah and I were in such a good place, and I didn’t want it to end. I glanced out of my apartment window and saw her brown hair sticking out of her bike helmet like the tail of a kite trailing behind her. A guy could get lost in that hair. Or her goodness. Hannah was one of those genuinely good people who made me want to be a better person, even when it came to dealing with the morons on my volunteer house building team.
She parked her orange fat-tire cruiser that she called Archie and wrapped the bike chain through the frame and around the post.
I laughed and slid open the frosty window. “I think Archie’s safe.”
Hannah stomped her feet in the snow. “Stop.” She giggled. “Archie’s my only mode of transportation. If I lose him, I’m stuck. How would I get around campus?”
I shrugged. “There’s always Lyft or Uber.”
Her laughter increased. “Sure.” She unsnapped her helmet and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t I look like the kind of girl who would hire a driver?”
I mimicked her hair flip and shrugged. “High maintenance takes different shapes.”
She removed her gloves and fanned them toward me. “You’re crazy.”
“No, that’s my brother,” I said, laughing at my own joke.
She shook her head before disappearing into the stairwell that led to my apartment. I opened the door just as she appeared on my doorstep.
“Hello.” She leaned toward me, and I met her with a kiss. It was the kind of kiss that led to clothes coming off, which was what I hoped would happen.
She pressed against my chest, pushing me back. “We have to talk.”
My stomach suddenly dropped like I was on a roller coaster. Here it comes. She found out about Amber.
“Okay.” I led her toward the futon in my apartment, which functioned as both my bed and sofa.
She dropped her backpack on the floor beside her and sat on the edge like she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay.
Why did I fuck this up?
“What’s going on?” It felt like my heart jumped into my throat. It still beat just as fast and made it hard to swallow.
“I’m late.”
I nodded. “For a midterm?”
When Hannah smiled, everything was right with the world. Please don’t leave me.
“No.” She shook her head. “Not a midterm. My period’s late, and I’m never late.”
Period. Late. It took a moment for what she’d said to sink in. “Pregnant?” I knew my voice changed, and I was pretty sure my face did as well. But not in a bad way, more in an oh-my-God kind of surprised way. “Are you pregnant?”
She reached into the front pocket of her backpack and withdrew a white-and-pink box. “I don’t know. But we will in about—” She glanced at the side of the box. “—five to seven minutes.”
I ran my palm over my head. “Wow. Okay.” I jumped off the futon and reached for her. “Let’s do this.”
She took my hand but didn’t move. “You’re not mad?”
I squeezed her fingers. “Why would I be mad?”
“Aaron, I could be pregnant. We’re in our senior year of college.”
I smiled. “Yeah, you could be pregnant with my baby.” I tilted my head and raised a single eyebrow. “It is my baby, right?”
Tears filled her eyes. “You’re so crazy.”
“No.” I slowly shook my head. “That’s my brother.”
In seven minutes’ time, I checked my email, made a cup of tea for Hannah, and continually stared at a pregnancy test for results that took six minutes to reveal.
“Is that…?” I asked beside her in the small bathroom of my apartment.
She turned toward me, tears streaming down her face.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. A baby. Wow. Okay, we got this.” I didn’t know who I was trying to reassure more.
Her crying intensified, and between sobs she said, “I can’t do this. I have a plan. This isn’t part of my plan.”
Hannah needed more than reassurance. She needed something concrete. And I wasn’t sure what that was.
She leaned her head on my shoulder, and I deeply inhaled. Today, she smelled like the sweet, rich fragrance of jasmine.
“Green apple with jasmine,” she said between sniffles, as if reading my mind.
And that was when I knew we’d be okay. Hannah just got me. Other than Branson, no one understood me the way she did. So even though my head spun in a thousand different directions, I narrowed it down to one thought.
“When my mom first got sick,” I shared about a topic I rarely, if ever, discussed, “I planted a jasmine tree outside her bedroom window in Casper. I wanted her to wake up or go to bed with the smell of jasmine. It’s not too much or not enough but just the right amount.” I kissed the top of Hannah’s head and held my lips there for a moment.
“What happened to the plant when you moved?” she asked, and I gently smiled.
Hannah was a native Clevelander. I was a Wyomingite.
“I uprooted it and brought it with me,” I said.
Her eyes were red from crying, but they remained the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen.
“Wyoming, huh?” she said like she was trying it on.
“Or Ohio.” I wrapped my arm around her. “We’ve got nine months to figure it out.”
“Aaron….”
“What?”
“I’m not sure I can do this.”
What does that mean?
But I was too afraid to ask because I didn’t want to know the answer. Instead, I held her against me and imagined the life we could have together.