“Who is that?” Christopher’s mother said out loud. “Who’s there?”
The room was silent. But she could feel something creeping.
“Mom, do you believe me now?” Christopher whispered.
Christopher’s mother looked down at the bottle of pills in her hand. In one motion, she dumped the entire bottle of aripiprazole down the sink.
“Yes, honey. Now, pack your things. We’re getting the fuck out of here.”
Chapter 63
Mary Katherine walked through the doors of the church. It was late, and the room was empty. The only light came from the streetlight pouring through the stained glass and a few candles lit by loved ones trying to keep family alive through faith. Otherwise, there was darkness. Mary Katherine dipped her fingers into the holy water and walked down the center aisle to the front. She crossed herself and sat in the pew usually reserved for the Collins family. But they weren’t here. Right now, there was only Mary Katherine and God.
And the baby.
Mary Katherine choked back the thought. She barely remembered driving here. She thought about the first pregnancy test turning blue. She knew she couldn’t be pregnant. It was impossible. So, she had convinced herself that the first test must have been defective. Yes. That was a much more reasonable explanation than a pregnant virgin. She’d torn open the next box and read the instructions by the light of her cell phone. With this brand, if there were two lines, she was pregnant. If there was one line, she wasn’t. She squatted and peed on the next stick and waited like a prisoner in front of a parole board. The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Waiting for the one line. Waiting for one line.
Please, God. Make it one line.
When the two lines came, so did the tears. She immediately tore open the final box and quickly read the instructions. A plus sign (+) meant that she was pregnant. A minus sign (–) meant that she could wake up from this nightmare and go back to her life as if none of this had ever happened. She found her mother’s bottle of water in the emergency kit and drank. And waited. After she peed on a stick for the third and final time, she looked at the test—God’s test—and promised to study hard. Get into Notre Dame. Get married. Have a career. Have children with her husband like every woman in her family had for generations. Just please, God, make it a minus sign (–). She prayed harder than her father had during all Notre Dame and Steelers football games put together when the quarterback threw a long pass at the end. What did they call that again?
A Hail Mary.
She looked down at the stick and saw the plus sign (+) in her hand like the gold cross around her neck. And she sobbed. God’s test was three for three. Father. Son. Holy Ghost. Mary Katherine would have a bump under her graduation gown. She would never be able to look at her graduation pictures. And once the admissions people heard, she would never get into Notre Dame.
Mary Katherine didn’t know how long she’d sat there in the cold, weeping into her hands, but when she finally stood up, her knees were as sore as the passion play. She’d somehow managed her way to the car. And she somehow managed her way to the church. And now, she knelt down on the kneeling bench. She closed her eyes and prayed with all her heart.
God, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I know I did something wrong. Please tell me what I did, and I’ll make it better. I swear.
Silence. Her knees dug into the bench. She scratched her arm. She couldn’t stop scratching. Her phone buzzed with a text. The noise startled her. She couldn’t figure out who would text her this late. Maybe Doug woke up. Maybe her parents found her bed empty. She pulled out her phone. The text was from UNKNOWN.
The text read…You peed on a stick, slut.
Mary Katherine felt her heart go to her throat. “Mortified” was too small a word. Someone had been watching her from the woods.
Her phone buzzed again…Hey, Virgin Mary. I’m talking to you.
Mary Katherine deleted the texts. She wanted to make it all go away. She wanted to make herself go away.
God. Please. I don’t understand why this is happening. Whatever I did to upset You, I promise to make it better. Just tell me what to do. I just need