Positive

Positive

On the Edge #1

Elizabeth Barone

MAIETTA INK

Positive (On the Edge Book #1)

Elizabeth Barone

Copyright 2014 by Elizabeth Barone

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords
Edition

Version
1.
0 | Last Updated: February
22nd
, 201
4

Cover
photography by
Valua Vitaly

These stories are works of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are either products of the
author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons—living or dead—is entirely
coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic or
mechanical—without permission in writing from the
author.

Acknowledgments

[…]

Positive

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 enough open windows. "So what're
you
doing
here?"

"Well," Ingrid said, her blue eyes narrowed, "I
need to write an IEP for one of my students, and the house is way
too quiet. Victor's always out lately." She sighed.

Josalee frowned. "Well, it's good you got out
of the house," she offered, but the words didn't sound quite as
comforting out loud as they had in her head. "Now you can have some
adult interaction."

Ingrid shrugged.
"I like my students. They all
want
to be around me."

Josalee's shoulders slumped. Normally, she'd
offer to buy coffee, but all she wanted to do was get away before
Ingrid could ask more questions. She stood. "I'm sorry, hon, but
I've gotta get going."

Ingrid sighed. "I know. I don't want to make
you late. Call me later?"

Josalee nodded,
then hurried out of the library. She caught another bus and took it
to the cemetery at the edge of town. When she and David were
teenagers, they snuck out and sat on the bridge over the
lake
—
David to escape his
homophobic parents, Josalee to escape her overprotective Japanese
father.

She sat on the concrete wall and stared at the
pipe that curved in an upside down U and led nowhere. Beneath her,
inky water flowed through the dam. Moonlight reflected off the
lake's surface, and the cool, grassy scent of spring filled her
nostrils. She stared at the dark water and felt her center calm to
the same stillness.

If things were different, she might welcome a
baby; David would make a much better uncle.

Chapter 2

David pulled a white envelope out of his back
pocket the second he heard Josalee close the door behind her. He
leaned against the counter in the kitchen and, with shaking hands,
began ripping it open. Its glue was tight, though, so he set it
down and opened the drawer where they kept the scissors. He didn't
really expect to find them there, though; Jo had a habit of not
putting things away. He yanked open the silverware drawer.
Naturally, all of the butter knives were dirty. He snatched up a
steak knife and picked up the envelope again.

His hands shook
like a baby rabbit as he began slicing it open. The knife zigged
and zagged through the paper, then caught. He slammed it down.
"I
told
her we
needed new knives," he said to the empty kitchen. He ran a hand
through his short, curly blond hair, took a deep breath, and
returned to the envelope. He jiggled the knife through the paper
and it poked up through the top of the envelope. A second later, a
little drop of red blood painted the stark white paper. David
gasped and dropped the envelope and knife onto the counter. He
rushed to the sink and turned the water on.
If JoJo were here
, he
thought,
she'd laugh at me
for being such a baby
. He sighed and
wrapped a paper towel around his finger, pressed it tight, and went
back to the counter.

His heart thudded in his chest like the drum in
an industrial song. He gripped the edge of the counter and stared
at the half open envelope. He sighed, picked it up again, and
awkwardly tore it the rest of the way open.

He scanned the letter quickly, then stared at
the second page listing his new state insurance benefits. The
doctor at the clinic warned him that with his new "pre-existing
condition," it wouldn't be much. He felt bile rising in his throat,
but couldn't make it to the bathroom. He turned and vomited into
the sink. He grasped the edge of the counter while he emptied his
already empty stomach, shaking and sweating. It felt like forever
before he could raise his head from the stainless steel. He turned
on the water and rinsed it down, then slowly sank to the floor. He
shivered and twitched. He felt the nausea rising again, and pulled
himself up to the sink.

* * * * *

He wiped down the
counters and sink with bleach, a latex glove on the hand of the
finger he'd cut. Tears stung his eyes as he dried off the counter
with paper towels. He leaned against the counter and did the math
on his fingers for the hundredth time in the last few weeks. His
mind flashed to the night a month ago when he and Jo had come home
from the bar and went shot for shot with a bottle of
tequila
—
what Jo called "to
kill ya"
—
in their living
room.

"I think the reason guys don't wanna date me is
'cause I'm a shitty kisser," she had said, and took a shot from the
bottle.

David shook his head. "That's not true." He
reached for the bottle, but she held it away from him.

"How would you
know?" she laughed. "You're
gay
."

He snatched the bottle from her.
"So?"

"
So
, you can't kiss me. So, you
don't know what you're talking about." She laughed and leaned back
into the couch.

He took a shot and held out the bottle to her.
She shook her head and slid down, resting her head in his lap. He
looked down at her. "I'd go straight for you in a heartbeat,
JoJo."

She snorted. "Can't teach an old dog new
tricks."

"Bullshit," he said, and put the bottle on the
coffee table. He tilted her chin up and leaned down. She slowly
pulled her face away, laughing. "Stop. Stay still." He scooted down
on the couch and shifted until he lay next to her, his stubble
grazing her cheek. He kissed the tip of her nose.

She giggled. "That's so not the same
thing."

He rolled his eyes, then gazed straight into
her eyes. "Do you want me to?" When she said nothing, only gazed
back at him, he kissed her full on the lips. Her lips moved against
his, parted, and he gently pushed his tongue into her mouth. She
shifted and moved so that she lay on top of him, and caressed his
face as her lips moved against his. He knotted his hands in her
silky black hair. It felt like hours passed before they came up for
air. He gazed up at her. "You're not a shitty kisser," he
panted.

"No?" She reached for his face and brought his
lips back to hers. When she felt him press hard against her leg,
she broke the kiss. "What're we doing?" She giggled, and rested her
forehead against his.

"Want me to stop?" he asked. A heat she had
never seen filled his eyes. She shook her head, and he pulled her
face back to his.