Lymber craft's Arc

Chapter 25 of 70

Lymber sat on the tub edge with the strip in her hand until her legs went numb. She wrapped the test in toilet paper and pushed it to the bottom of the trash. She washed her face and looked at herself in the small mirror above the sink. Nine months ago she had done this same thing in her mother's bathroom with a crown still on the counter. She was not going to tell Paul in a bathroom again. She wanted a picture. She wanted something to hand him. The next morning she drove to the clinic and asked for an early scan. The tech was the same woman from before and did not ask questions. She squeezed the gel on and moved the wand and the room filled with the fast wet sound Lymber remembered. Eight weeks. The tech printed two photos. Lymber paid at the desk and drove to the drugstore two doors down. She bought a white onesie with a ruffle at the neck, a pack of wooden letters, a small chalkboard, and a roll of pink ribbon. In the car she wrote BIG SISTER on the chalkboard with the marker from the glove box. She laid the onesie flat on the passenger seat, tucked the ultrasound photo into the neckline, and tied the ribbon around the whole bundle. She drove home slow. Paul was on the floor of the front room stacking blocks with Violetta. Lymber set the bundle on the rug between them. He looked at the onesie. He looked at the chalkboard. He picked up the ultrasound photo and held it close and then far. Violetta grabbed the ribbon and pulled it into her mouth. Paul did not say anything for a long time. Then he said, when. She said, eight weeks. He said, are you okay. She said, I think so. He put the photo down on the rug and pulled her onto the floor with them and held the back of her head against his shoulder. Violetta hit the blocks with the wooden letters and knocked the tower over. Paul said, we'll figure it out. He did not say more. Lymber looked at the three of them on the rug of the small rental and understood that no one outside these walls knew yet, and for now, no one had to.