You Lost Us In The Test novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Breakfast

Deanna plays her mother's trade out loud at the breakfast table, throws her out, and chooses to keep the baby for herself, until Preston turns up at her door with roses and Kenzie filming.

My mother let herself in at eight on Saturday morning with the key I'd given her for emergencies.

She was carrying a casserole dish wrapped in a dish towel.

"Egg bake," she said. "No pepper. I made it plain for your stomach."

I was on the couch in yesterday's blue dress.

I hadn't slept.

"Sit," she said. "Eat something. Then we'll talk about how to fix this."

I sat.

The egg bake smelled fine. That was the worst part.

She folded her hands and closed her eyes.

"Lord, bless this food, and bless this family, and soften my daughter's heart toward the people who love her."

"Amen," I said.

She opened one eye at me.

"Honey, I know you're hurt. But Kenzie is beside herself. And Preston's mother didn't sleep a wink."

"Neither did I."

"That's different. You did that to yourself."

"Here's what you'll do," she said. "You rejoin the chat. You say you're sorry for overreacting. Preston comes over, you two kiss and make up, and we reschedule the clerk."

"And Brody's contract?"

She didn't miss a beat.

"What about it?"

I took my phone out and put it face up between the plates.

I pressed play and turned the volume all the way up.

Preston's mother's voice filled my kitchen.

"I can't see her up at five making breakfast for this family."

My mother's fork stopped halfway to her mouth.

On the screen, Kenzie laughed. Preston said, "Just make everything spicy."

My mother reached for the phone.

I slid it out of her reach.

"Deanna."

"Shh," I said. "This is your part."

Her own voice came out of the speaker, small and tinny.

"Go ahead. I'll calm her down."

Then, brighter.

"And since I'm letting her do your test, you'll help Brody with his project."

I paused it on her smile.

My mother put her fork down very carefully.

"Where did you get that?"

"Kenzie sent it. She wanted me to see how much fun everyone had."

"That girl," she said, and for one second she looked like the woman who used to slam doors when my father brought Kenzie home.

Then it was gone.

"You don't understand how hard it's been for your brother," she said. "That company is his whole life. He's twenty-four, Deanna. He needs one break."

"So you sold me."

"Nobody sold anybody. It was a little test. You'd have passed if you'd stayed at the table."

"I'm pregnant. They put chili in the soup."

"You could have eaten the rice."

"I ate the rice, Mom."

She looked at the egg bake.

"It was for Brody," she said. "You've always been the strong one. You land on your feet. He doesn't."

I stood up.

I picked up her casserole dish with both hands and carried it to the front door.

"Deanna, that's my good Pyrex."

I put it in her arms. I held the door open.

"Take your key off the ring," I said.

She stared at me.

"I'm your mother."

"Then you can call before you come. The key, please."

Her hands shook while she worked it off.

She dropped it into my palm.

"You'll regret this when you need me," she said.

"I needed you Thursday."

I closed the door.

I heard her on the stairs, then her car, then nothing.

I sat down on the floor of my hallway and cried until my nose ran into my mouth.

At eleven I had an appointment at the women's clinic on Penn Avenue.

A woman across from me was knitting something yellow.

I had a clipboard on my knee.

Under "Reason for visit" I had written "Discuss options" and then crossed it out and written it again.

I thought about the scan two weeks ago.

The tech had turned the screen toward me and there was a flicker in the middle of all that gray, fast as a hummingbird.

Preston had been looking at his phone.

I'd been the one who cried.

The knitting woman caught me watching her needles.

"First?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You look scared."

"I'm deciding something."

She nodded.

"My mother told me I'd ruin my life," she said. "This is my third."

She held up the yellow thing. A tiny sweater with one sleeve.

The nurse called my name.

I went in. The doctor was kind and quick and asked me what I wanted.

I put my hand flat on my stomach.

I thought about who this baby would have if I kept it.

Not Preston. Not his mother. Not mine.

Me. A job in London. A lab. Whatever I could build.

"I want to keep it," I said. "I just need to know it's okay."

She did the scan.

The flicker was still there, faster than before.

"Strong heartbeat," she said. "Everything looks right on track."

I walked out with a printout in my purse and bought a bag of saltines at the corner store.

I ate six on the bus.

At home I booked a flight to London for Friday the twenty-seventh. One way.

I started a list on the fridge. Passport. Lease. Doctor's records. Boxes.

At the bottom I wrote "Baby" and underlined it twice.

The sun went down orange over the river.

At six-forty my doorbell rang.

I looked through the peephole.

Preston stood on my landing in his good navy coat, holding two dozen red roses.

Behind his shoulder, Kenzie had her phone up.

The little red recording light was already on.

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