I turn to face the wall as she squats over the toilet, and after a few minutes, I finally begin to hear a stream hitting the water.

“What now?” Kimmie asks, and I reach for the empty box, which she left next to the sink.

“Now we wait,” I say, reading the instructions.

“For how long?”

“Five minutes.”

“Five minutes. Wow. Okay.” She lays the test down on the sink and turns away from it. “What am I gonna do, Matt?” she says. “What if I am pregnant?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“But I already know what it’s gonna say. Oh my God, this is bad. I don’t know what my parents will do if they find out about this. I mean, they’re gonna kill me. They would—”

“Not even need to find out,” I finish her sentence. “Even if you are pregnant, you get to decide what you want to do. Don’t forget that.”

Slowly, Kimmie begins to nod. She stares straight ahead, not meeting my eyes, but I can tell she’s deep in thought.

“I’m here for you,” I remind her.

“I know.” She leans against the bathroom wall. With a long sigh, she slides down until she’s sitting.

I hesitate for a moment. A part of me doesn’t want to sit on the dirty bathroom floor, but then I swallow my pride and join her.

“Why did you call me?” I ask her softly. “Why not Darryl or Adam?”

She gives a small shrug. “You were the first person I thought of.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a shitty friend lately.”

“It’s okay,” she says, hugging her knees. “I get what you said on the day I went to the bodega. I understand why you’ve been questioning our friendship and—”

“It’s not just that,” I say. “I’ve been questioning everything.”

Kimmie turns toward me, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I barely know who I am anymore. It used to be so simple. I was a born-and-raised New Yorker, and an American. I was my sister’s brother, and my parents’ son, and your and Adam’s friend. Now it’s just all mixed up. I don’t feel American, but I don’t feel Mexican, either. I’m my sister’s caretaker, my parents’ distant relative, and the breadwinner in my family. I don’t even know how to explain what I am to Adam,” I say. “There’s one thing I’m sure of, though. I’m your friend. Always have been, always will be. No matter what that pregnancy test says, and no matter what happens after.”

Kimmie blinks a few times. I know how much she hates crying in front of people. “I love you.”

I reach for her hand and squeeze it tight. “I love you, too.”

“Has it been five minutes already?”

I look down at the time on my phone. “Nope. Two minutes left.”