One Night With The President

The cheap LED tube light above the dorm bathroom mirror buzzed. It was a low, mechanical hum that vibrated right behind Eloisa Williams's eyes. She stared at the plastic stick in her hands. Two pink lines. They were the brightest, sharpest colors she had ever seen in her life. They burned into Eloisa's retinas. Her stomach violently dropped. The blood drained from her face, leaving her skin the color of old chalk. Her fingers went completely numb. The plastic stick slipped from her grip. It hit the bottom of the trash can with a hollow plastic clatter. Eloisa gasped, she dropped to her knees on the cold tile floor, plunged her hand into the trash, and snatched the stick back out. Her hands shook so hard she could barely read the tiny print on the instruction sheet she had unfolded on the sink. Positive. The word hit her like a physical blow to the chest. She scrambled toward the toilet. She gripped the porcelain rim, her knuckles turning stark white. She gagged. Her throat spasmed, but nothing came up except the bitter, acidic taste of her own saliva. She squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to force her brain to work. A month ago. The graduation party. Fragments of memory sliced through her mind. The bass of the music vibrating in her ribs. The blinding flash of strobe lights. The burn of amber whiskey sliding down her throat. She remembered drinking too much. She remembered her roommate, Isla, holding her arm, trying to keep her upright. And then? Nothing. A massive, terrifying blank space. It was like someone had taken scissors to the film reel of her life. She pressed the heels of her hands hard against her forehead. A single, blurry image surfaced. A tall shadow. A broad chest. And a smell. It wasn't the cheap, overpowering cologne that college boys bathed in. It was the scent of cedarwood and old, expensive paper. She remembered looking up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. But there was no face. Just the eyes, and the smell, and the heavy weight of a hand guiding her. She slapped her own forehead, hard. The sting did nothing to clear the fog. Her head pounded with a vicious ache. She had never even had a real boyfriend. She could count her intimate experiences on one hand, and they were all clumsy, forgettable, and years in the past. This baby. This positive test. She couldn't even put a name or a face to it. It was completely absurd. Eloisa reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out her phone. Her thumb trembled as she opened her banking app. Available Balance: $76.58. The panic in her chest twisted into a heavy, suffocating despair. She was a senior in college. She worked twenty hours a week making lattes at a campus coffee shop just to afford groceries. How could she raise a child? She didn't even know who the father was. Tell her parents? The thought made her stomach cramp again. Her father worked night shifts as a security guard. Her mother scrubbed toilets at a downtown hotel. They had emptied their meager savings to help her pay for her first semester. She could not do this to them. She could not be another heavy burden on their tired shoulders. Her phone screen lit up in her palm. A text from Isla. Eloisa, are you okay? Eloisa stared at the words. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek until she tasted the metallic tang of blood. She typed back. I'm fine. Just headache. She hit send and locked the screen. She pulled herself up using the edge of the sink and looked in the mirror. Dark purple circles bruised the skin under her eyes. She looked sick. She looked terrified. She had to do something. She opened the browser on her phone. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She typed: what to do unplanned pregnancy. The first result that popped up was a sponsored ad for a women's health clinic in Washington D.C. She clicked the link. The page loaded with soft pastel colors and words like Consultation and Options. Her thumb hovered over the button that read Book Appointment. A tiny, almost imperceptible twinge of pain pulled at her lower abdomen. It was a physical reminder. A biological clock ticking inside her body. She took a deep breath. The air shuddered on the way into her lungs. She closed her eyes, and she pressed the button. Seconds later, her phone buzzed. An email notification popped up at the top of her screen. Appointment Confirmed. Tomorrow, 3:00 PM. Eloisa gripped the edge of the sink. She was entirely alone, and she was terrified.