“Not that you can’t go back to school after you have the kid,” she added, trying to make it less doom and gloom.

Except you didn’t go back to school after you had me. It was too much work because you were a single mom. Like I’d be.

I nodded and swallowed, my dreams of getting into an Ivy League school turning to ash right before my eyes. It’s funny how that hadn’t occurred to me until right that moment. “Right. And I might still go the adoption route and can maybe go a semester late or something.”

“Right.” The kettle screeched. Mom turned away from me so she could pour hot water over the tea infuser. “And if you decide to keep it—”

“If I decide to keep them,” I interjected. “It feels weird to me.”

“Okay, sure. If that’s what you prefer.”

I nodded, pulling my toast from the toaster and slathering it with butter.

“But what I was saying is single moms go back to school all the time,” she said. “Maybe not right away, but they do. Programs at night. Or maybe even the day, somewhere local. Mormor certainly seems to want to help out. I can babysit at night. We’ve got some options.”

“A state university or whatever. I mean, there’s one fifteen minutes away.”

“Sure! That’d work.” Mom slid the tea my way, her fingers brushing mine. I looked up at her. The strain written on her face likely mirrored mine, but I couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t just one of us abandoning hopes of my going to an Ivy League.

Ten o’clock, in Dr. Cardiff’s office, my pants waistband rolled down so far I was afraid someone would see my pubes, a sheet over my lap to ensure that didn’t happen.

There wasn’t a lot of dignity in medical care, I was discovering.

“How are you hanging in there, Serendipity?” Dr. Cardiff asked me, the ultrasound wand poised above my skin.

It was a fair question. I hadn’t talked much since they’d squirted the cold conductive lube over my lower stomach. There were a lot of feelings going on, tangling up inside of me and stealing most of my words. I was afraid—feeling a little dread, even—because there was no going back after this. This was more “real” than the results of a pee stick test or blood test. No take backsies, no hiding from the truth. I was about to see irrevocable results of my truck fumbling.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m okay.”

“Cool. Let’s do this.”

Dr. Cardiff placed the monitor against my skin, on the side of my stomach. It was coldish, like the jelly had been, and I winced.