Elsie never found the Walgreens Ashlock had spotted near the federal courthouse. She cruised from the downtown area to the city limits of Springfield. It was a big town, over 100,000 population. She could find what she was looking for and do what she needed to do. No one knew her in Springfield. No nosy parkers would comment on her errand.
A McDonald’s sat at the intersection, and her car pulled in on autopilot. It had two drive-thru lanes. I’m in the big city now, she thought.
The voice in the speaker box asked what she wanted.
“Large Diet Coke,” Elsie said. “And a large coffee. Black.”
As she drove away, she sucked down the soda like a woman stranded in the desert, though the temperature outside was frigid, more like January than early December. A Walmart Supercenter appeared, and she pulled in and parked near the entrance.
Once inside, she didn’t dawdle. After briefly pausing to wipe her bloodstained legs with the sanitary wipes near the shopping carts, she went to the women’s personal aisle in the health and beauty section. Elsie eyeballed the items she sought. She didn’t know there would be so many choices. She snatched the First Response pregnancy test from the shelf. The box claimed that it was over ninety-nine percent accurate.
The woman at the checkout didn’t comment on her purchase. Didn’t greet her, didn’t even look up. Just rang up the purchase and put it in the bag. Elsie was grateful. She was glad she’d thought to buy it in Springfield rather than in McCown County. Had she bought a pregnancy test in Barton, the word would be on the street within minutes.
Bag in hand, she headed for the door; but she paused before she made her exit. An old man wearing a Walmart nametag stood beside the shopping carts.
Elsie said, “Where are the restrooms, sir?”
He pointed. “On the east side. Beyond the snack bar.”
She walked in the direction he had indicated, her feet moving of their own volition toward the public toilets at Walmart, where she might have her personal moment of truth.
The women’s restroom was empty. She had her choice of stalls, so she chose number three: her lucky number. Her fingers were clumsy as she opened the box. She took a moment to look over the instructions, but it was a no-brainer. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. One pink line or two.
Peeing wouldn’t be a problem. McDonald’s had seen to that. Elsie held the white plastic fortune-teller in her hand, and then she did the deed. She didn’t look. Instead, she counted silently.
One Mississippi, two Mississippi. She kept her eyes closed, all the way to two-forty.
When she opened her eyes, there it was. The second line, a faint pink mark.
She checked the box again. As if the pharmaceutical company had read her mind, she saw the answer to her unspoken question.
“Yes, a faint line still counts as a positive.”
The box contained a second test stick. She unwrapped it, repeated the process. Didn’t bother to close her eyes the second time. Instead, she watched with dread as the pink line appeared.
She checked the expiration date on the box, but it was fresh as new paint. Grasping at straws, she wondered whether it might be a defective, giving her a false positive.
But she couldn’t convince herself. She could buy another test, maybe the Clearblue one. But—ninety-nine percent accuracy, two results staring her in the face.
“Save your twenty bucks, Elsie,” she whispered.
With her free hand, she rustled inside her purse, pulling out the packet of birth control pills. She’d missed three; two during the turmoil at the EconoMo, one earlier in the cycle, from pure carelessness. When her period didn’t start on schedule, her online research had been encouraging: ninety-five percent of women who missed a few pills would not become pregnant. Only five percent ended up with an unintended pregnancy.
Five percent, she thought, as she dropped the packet of pills back into her bag. I’m one of that five percent.
Business was picking up in the women’s restroom. Someone rattled her stall door, then had the nerve to knock.
“Occupied,” Elsie said, her voice sharp.
But she couldn’t stay on the toilet forever. She dropped the second test back into the box, beside its mate. Wadded the box inside the Walmart bag and left the stall.
After she dropped the plastic bag inside the trash can, she looked up, catching her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Her expression was guilty, like she’d stolen something.
She washed her hands with unnecessary vigor, soaping up and then rinsing twice, drying off with four paper towels.
She forgot to buy any bandages for her knees. On her way out of the store, the old man by the carts told her to have a nice day. That’s when the tears started to roll.
She took off for her car at a run. Locking herself inside, she rested her head on the steering wheel.
In a whisper, she said, “What the fuck am I going to do?”
She heard a knock at her window. With a start, she looked up. The old-timer had followed her outside. She rolled down the window.
He said, “Are you all right, ma’am?”
The unexpected kindness crippled her. She attempted a wobbly smile.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“You don’t look like you’re doing fine.” He bent down to the open window. “Would you like to come back inside? Sit for a spell? I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
Elsie shook her head. “That’s so nice of you. But I’ve got coffee. I’m heading out.”
He didn’t step away, though she wanted him to leave her. The old man studied her face. He said, “Don’t worry.”
Elsie nodded in agreement, just to get rid of him.
“Not a single sparrow falls to the ground without God knowing it. And you’re more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.”
With that, he turned and walked away. Elsie watched his stooped figure as he returned to the store and took his place inside the glass doors, beside the shopping carts.
Sitting up straight in the driver’s seat, she put the car in Reverse. As she drove through the parking lot she pulled the brown lid off the McDonald’s coffee cup. She dumped the liquid out the driver’s window, where it splattered onto the pavement.
The Diet Coke was harder. She held the Styrofoam cup for a long minute, taking a thirsty goodbye sip before she emptied the cup and headed out on the highway for the return trip to Barton.
She was going home.
THE END