Read Online Positive by Elizabeth Barone - Free Book Online

Chapter 1
    Josalee threw up when the two little pink lines
blurred into existence. After her coffee came up, bitter and sour,
she sat with her back against the tub, her chest bouncing in
rhythmic hiccups. She stared up at the counter where the positive
test sat, then glanced at the clock. David would be home any
second. She tied back her black hair, pulled herself up, and tossed
the test in the garbage.
    She cried as she
brought the bathroom garbage out. Normally, David would be the
first person she told. She could count on him to come home, hold
her while she cried, and run out for ice cream. If things were just
a little different, they would joke about how one-night stands had
side effects. Her hands shook as she climbed the stairs back up to
their little apartment. She went back into the
bathroom.
    * * * * *
    She stopped
crying in time to hear David's key. She splashed cold water on her
face, then dried off with a chocolate brown towel he picked out for
their place. She once brought home an antique end table. Its teal
paint peeled in strips and it wobbled, but she loved it the second
she saw it at the thrift store. "Girl, you are no Martha Stewart," he told her,
rolling his eyes. The end table sat in her bedroom ever
since.
    The front door opened as she came out of the
bathroom. David's keys jangled against each other as he fought to
tug them out.
    She rolled her almond shaped eyes. "Jiggle it a
little," she called.
    He glanced up.
"Duh! Why can't I ever remember?"
    She smiled, but her eyes felt like little brown
stones in her head.
    "How was your day, JoJo?" he asked as he tossed
his keys into the little baby blue bowl on the brown front
table.
    She sat on an arm of the couch and picked at
the piping. "Good."
    David hung up his coat. "Did you get a lot of
work done?"
    "I went to Dark Brew." She stared at the
piping.
    His face lit up. "Oh! Was that boy there?!" He
practically ran over to the couch and sat next to her. "Do
tell!"
    I am such an
idiot , she thought. "No. I just sketched
for a little while by myself," she said. Then I went to the pharmacy.
    David started to
pat her thigh, then retracted his hand as though she were on fire.
He nodded. "Good. You working tonight, or are we watching Grey's
Anatomy ?"
    She glanced at his hand, which gripped his
knee. "I'm... working," she said. Her stomach churned.
    "Aw," he whined.
"You're always working on Grey's nights! You need to get
yourself a nine to five, girl!" He jumped up. "I'll DVR it for you,
since someone still can't figure out the
remote."
    "Thanks," she
said. She tried to think of something else to talk about. We have so few safe subjects these
days , she thought. "Hey. Did you get that
fever checked out?"
    He shrugged.
"They told me it was probably from 'overexertion,' and to rest up
and blah, blah, blah." He rolled his eyes. " Overexertion . Can you believe it?"
Their eyes met for a second, then they both looked away. "All set,"
he said, and put the remote down. "I guess I'm on my own for
dinner." He wandered into the kitchen.
    She sighed, and pretended to go get ready for
work.
    * * * * *
    Josalee took the next bus to the library. She
logged into a computer with her library ID and Googled "pregnancy
symptoms." The website still said the same things: nausea,
vomiting, sore breasts, positive pregnancy test. She drummed her
fingers on the wooden desk and stared at the screen.
    "Hey you."
    Josalee jumped. She closed the webpage and
turned in her seat. "Oh. Hey Ingrid." She gave her friend a waxen
smile.
    Ingrid's blond hair was pulled up into a bun,
remnants of her grown out bangs falling into her eyes. She brushed
them back with a slender hand. "What're you doing here?" Ingrid
asked.
    Josalee chewed on
her lower lip. Her mind raced through possible excuses. "Just
killing some time. I'm on my lunch." Her eyes darted from Ingrid to
the dark computer screen, her heart thudding in her chest. The air
in the library felt stuffy,
stagnant — too many old books
and not