We Need To Talk

by bdhesse

I can hear him talking. The one-sided conversation of someone talking on the phone. He laughs. I sigh.
How can he laugh at a time like this? Doesn’t he know how bad this is? This was not supposed to happen. Not now.
He laughs again.
I wipe the tear from my eyes and look down at the white stick on the edge of the bathtub. That pink cross. That wretched pink cross. It mocks me. Why is it there We did everything right. Didn’t we? We were careful. Weren’t we?
I look away from it. I don’t want to see it.
He laughs again.
Will you get off the phone? Why won’t you get off the phone?! I think at him as hard as I can. Maybe he’ll hear my distress. Maybe he’ll come sooner. But it’s no use. He’s still talking, still laughing.
I can’t take it anymore. I stand up. I wash my face. I pace a little. But not too much. He might here me. He might worry.
Hurry up. I think harder. Hurry up.
I finally here him hang up.
“We need to talk,” I say as he walks towards the bathroom.