I wanted to be responsible, in at least one way.

The nurse I met with at the clinic called me “honey,” and her eyes were kind as she pressed the sample box of birth control pills into my hands.

I must have looked sad as I stared down at the box, because she asked what should have been a simple question.

Is he nice to you, this boyfriend of yours?

I didn’t know how to answer. Didn’t know how to tell her that he wasn’t exactly nice, and he definitely wasn’t my boyfriend.