know. But she couldn’t add another sin to what she had already done. She felt guilty for even thinking about theft.
To think it is to do it.
She walked up to the counter. The lady looked down at the pregnancy tests, then back up at Mary Katherine. Her tense little grin said it all.
“Good thing you didn’t need no cold medicine, hun. We’re clean out. Christmas flu season ’n’ that,” she said.
Mary Katherine nodded and tried to say something in return, but she knew if she spoke, she’d burst into tears.
“How ’bout them Steelers today? I think they’re going to win it all this year.”
Mary Katherine nodded and looked at the woman. She was so kind. Nearly as kind as her grandmother.
“Thanks, hun. Merry Christmas to ya,” the woman said.
“Merry Christmas, ma’am,” she replied.
The woman rang up the tests and put them in a bag. Mary Katherine gave her the money in quarters, dimes, and crumpled dollar bills. She didn’t wait for her change.
As Mary Katherine left the pharmacy, some college boys pulled up in a loud Ford Mustang. Mary Katherine could hear their stories of their latest conquests. That “dumb slut” from the Kappa house. And that “hot bitch” was so wasted, she would have given it to anybody. Mary Katherine quickly got back into her mother’s station wagon and locked all the doors. She took off the hat and glasses and opened the first box. The directions were too small to read in the dark car, but she didn’t dare turn on the light because someone might see her. She had to find someplace secluded. So, she started up the car and retraced her steps to Mill Grove.
As she drove back, she thought about all the times coming back home from Christmas Eve at Grandma’s house. Laughing to the song “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.” The radio man would finish the song and then say that there was a sighting of a sleigh just outside the North Pole. Mary Katherine would tell her dad to hurry up and get home before Santa came. If she weren’t in bed, Santa would get angry and skip the house.
Please, Daddy. Hurry.
Mary Katherine drove back past the prison, through the Liberty Tubes, Dormont, and Mt. Lebanon until she arrived back in Mill Grove. She turned off Route 19 and drove around the suburban streets until she finally found a perfectly secluded spot.
Right outside the Mission Street Woods.
Mary Katherine looked through the foggy windshield to make sure no one was around. All she saw was the fence guarding the bulldozers and equipment for the Collins Construction Company. But there were no security guards. No cameras. She was safe.
Mary Katherine grabbed the directions. She unfolded them neatly and read everything until she had reached the Spanish translation. When she realized what she had to do in order to take the test, she couldn’t believe it.
Pee on a stick?
She almost wanted to cry. It was so disgusting. Why was everything involving a girl’s body so degrading? Boys got to stay clean and dry. And girls had to put up with being so dirty and pretending they weren’t.
You smell wrong. You’re dirty.
Mary Katherine was at her grandmother’s house when she got her first period. She thought she had cut herself down there. She didn’t know what to do. So, she used toilet paper. And when that wasn’t enough, she went to her mother’s bathroom and stole a tampon. She was so ashamed. When she put it in, she started to cry. A part of her thought it was a sin. And when she pulled it out, she couldn’t believe her eyes. It wasn’t this blue liquid on blotter paper like in the commercials. It was clumpy. And bloody. It disgusted her. She was so dirty.
You’re dirty. This girl is dirty!
She opened the car door. The air was freezing cold. Mary Katherine pulled down her jeans and felt the little dent that the button made in her belly. She crouched down next to the car, bent her knees, and squatted. She let her bladder go. She peed on the stick. Her mind racing.
It’s okay. You only had oral sex one time. You can’t get pregnant from that. You can’t, right? No one ever got pregnant through their mouth. It doesn’t work that way, Mary Katherine. You know that from health class. You didn’t get pregnant the time Doug touched your breast, either. It’s the same thing. Right? Right.