Nova blackish's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Two weeks after Brock tore up the contract, Nova woke before him and stood in the bathroom holding two plastic sticks under the low bulb. She had bought them from the clinic on the far side of town so no one would talk. She waited the three minutes with her hands flat on the sink. Both windows showed the same mark. She sat on the edge of the tub and let the cold tile press through her nightshirt. Twins ran in her mother's line. She had forgotten that until now. She woke Brock by setting the tests on his chest. He blinked at them, sat up, then laughed once, wet and startled. He asked if she was sure. She said the clinic would confirm, but the line was as thick as a pencil mark on both. He put his palm on her stomach, careful, as if the skin might bruise. Then he said the word she still could not say. Babies. Plural. She nodded and finally said it back. That afternoon they walked to the big house three lots over. The porch boards held snow in their seams. Brock knocked, and the owner let them stand in the front room with their boots on. Two chimneys meant two stoves. Nova counted the windows and the doors that closed against drafts. She thought about a winter birth in the rented red house, where the north wall iced over by December, and knew she could not carry twins through that cold. Brock asked the price again. The owner named it. Brock said they would bring the deposit by Friday. On the way back, Nova stopped at the coffee shop to sit down. Her friend Rowan was already at the corner table, turning a paper cup in her hands and watching the door. A folded jacket sat on the chair beside her, tags still on. Nova slid in across from her. Rowan looked at her face and said, You're pale. Nova told her. Rowan set the cup down. She said, Twins is a lot of firewood. Then she said, I'll help. I can split a cord in an afternoon. Nova almost cried into her tea. She stopped by her brother's kitchen last. Collin was at the stove with his sleeves pushed up, stirring something dark and slow. She put the two tests on the counter beside the salt. He looked at them, then at her, and turned the burner down. He said, You'll need more meat this winter. I'll bring you a share every week. He did not hug her. He asked if Brock was steady on it. She said yes. He nodded once and said, Good. That night Nova ate a full plate for the first time in days. She drank water until her stomach hurt. She wrote a list of what her body would need before spring: iron, fat, wool, walls that held heat. She had prepared. The babies would come safe. On Friday they would sign for the house.