2019

The test was positive. All three of them.

It felt like it was just yesterday that I was sitting with Kanani in the bathroom, worrying about whether she was pregnant. Never in a million years would I have expected to find myself in the same situation, let alone so soon after she had. If anything was going to scare me straight into making sure nothing like that happened to me, it should have been that whole ordeal. Instead, there I sat with three white sticks, all with two angry, red lines glaring up at me. Taunting me.

Or maybe I was just freaking the fuck out. Maybe they weren't angry at all. Maybe those annoying little sticks were actually happy for me, even though I didn't want this. That was what all of the commercials showed growing up. A bunch of happy people waiting to confirm they were about to welcome a baby into the world.

I had known for a long time that I never wanted children.

This limited and specific definition of what it meant to build a family had been engrained in me for so long that I thought, coming to that realization when I was young, that something was wrong with me. I contemplated the reasons why I might have felt that way, and most of my reasonings were just attacks directed at myself. I thought I wouldn't be a good mom. I would never be able to afford to. I was scared I would mess up. Having children would have ruined my life and all the hypothetical plans I had for myself. All of it was designed to make me feel as if I failed at life, and that was the singular reason why I didn't want kids.

The truth? I just didn't want them. Most of those weren't questions I couldn't answer in the first place, so worrying about them caused unnecessary stress over something I didn't need to. I didn't need any other reason than not wanting them and that was okay. That was something I finally let myself recognize and accept after a class debate about abortion during my sophomore year of high school.

What was most important was acknowledging that having a family and having children were not mutually exclusive. I knew deep down that I would always want a family, even if I wasn't sure if I would find that beyond the one I had been born into. But I would always have a family because of them. And if, somewhere down the line, I fell in love with someone and was ready to commit to spending my life with them, they would also become my family. Hell, if I wanted a fucking dog, that dog would be family, too. (The best kind of family.) (I would happily pick up dog poop over changing a diaper any day of the week.) And if I was my only immediate family, that was okay, too.

After pushing the tests aside, I took a deep breath.

"Everything will be okay," I said to myself. "It'll be okay." I might have said that exact phrase about five times since I locked myself in the bathroom. The more times I said it, the more likely I was to believe it.

It came as a surprise, even to me, how calm I was after having taken three pregnancy tests with all of them coming back positive. (I didn't want to know how much money our friends and family had spent on Sunny D this year.) (It had to be a new record for us.) Having a silent meltdown the other night at Nikau's apartment got most of it out of my system. At the time, I thought it was the worst place at which I could have realized what was happening, but it worked out in the end. His presence forced me to minimize my physical reaction, while also providing me with a chance to think about something else when we woke up the next morning and had breakfast before he drove me back home. I had even waited a day until I snuck down to a pharmacy and picked up the tests. I considered Nikau's calming presence as a great influence for that.

"I'll be okay." I dropped my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. "I'm going to be okay."

...

"Are you serious?"

"Do you think I would joke about something like this?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Just to fuck with me."

"You think I'd pick something more original than that."

For obvious reasons, it felt like deja vu. With the roles reversed, I thought I understood how Kanani must have felt that day, having to stare up at me during one of the most vulnerable conversations of her life. There was no one I felt safer around, no one that would be able to walk me through something like this than her, even if she hadn't already experienced it herself.

She leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed over her round belly. "Hell of a year for the Kahananui women, huh."

"I'm not keeping it."

Not one part of her was surprised to hear that. "Yeah, I figured."

"But I don't—I don't know how to..." I drifted off. It wasn't cold feet keeping me from saying it out loud; I knew with complete certainty what I wanted. But saying it out loud meant it was that much more real, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to admit that yet without having a conversation with the one person I knew I needed to speak to most.

"Have you talked to Kaipo yet?" she asked, sounding not unlike me. The roles really had been reversed. "Not that this isn't your decision, but if you wanted to."

"No, I haven't. But I should go do that."

"You don't have to go now." She glanced down at her phone. "I don't think he's even home right now."

"Would it be too creepy to wait for him?" I wasn't sure I even wanted to do that because it would require being let in by one of his parents or waiting on his porch like some lost child, but I knew I needed to talk to him right away so I wasn't sure what options I had.

Kanani looked slightly amused. "My personal recommendation would be to wait it out here, but it's totally up to you."

"Right."

My spot on the floor allowed me the opportunity to stare up at my sister's round belly which had reached the point where it was impossible to hide in a way that wasn't completely obvious. I instinctively touched my stomach under my shirt. The skin was smooth, apart from stretch marks acquired during a rapid growth spurt before high school, and there wasn't any protrusion more than the usual that occurred after every meal. My body was otherwise the same as it had always been, except this little nugget of knowledge was dangling in front of me, daring me to reach for the clear solution to my problem.

"It'll be okay," she said. Up until that moment, I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear someone else say it. "Talk to Kaipo. We can figure out what steps to take after, okay?"

I nodded. Kanani walked over, pushed the toilet seat cover down so she could sit, and held my hand. I squeezed tightly enough so she knew I never wanted her to let go.

...

For what felt like the hundredth time, Kaipo opened his front door to see me standing there.

He had seen me in just about every state imaginable. Happy. Crying. Stoic. Lost. Desperate for human touch. If there was anyone in my life besides my family that had seen every side of me, it was him. Through the years, we learned to lean on each other, confide in each other, and scour the ups and downs of growing up with each other. Nobody understood how dreadful the weight of living had been to me more than him, and there was a strong sense of confidence we would see each other through to the very end.

Kaipo was one of the few constants in my life. That stood for something when so many people came and went.

He had no idea what he was walking into when he opened that door, and part of me felt guilty even though I knew we were both responsible for this happening. It was never fun being the messenger. The last time I dropped this kind of monumental news on him, it was to tell him my father was diagnosed with cancer. The threat of a life being taken away contrasted with the threat of a life being brought into the world. How funny.

Nobody else was home, which eliminated a lot of the factors that would only cause more stress. Since I hadn't even told my own mother yet, I wasn't in the mood to tell his parents. Honestly, I didn't want to be around for that at all. While I would be okay with him telling them, I had no desire to be there. They could have that discussion alone.

When we arrived at his room, Kaipo dropped down onto the bed with ease, like it was just another day. To him, it was. And I was here to shatter that mundane existence.

"So, um, I don't know how else to say this so I'm gonna just... say it."

I hesitated. Because, well, fuck, this was hard.

He lifted his brow. "Just gonna say it, huh."

"I'm pregnant." The words shot out of me like a lightning bolt out of the sky, and instantly Kaipo looked as if he wished it would have hit him twice. Put him out of his misery.

"What did you just say?"

I swallowed. "I'm pregnant."

"Come again?"

"I'd rather you not do that again."

He almost threw up. "Hoku—"

"I'm sorry, that was a terrible joke."

"It was. Horrendous."

"But that means you did hear me."

"Well, yeah, but I think I'm about to go into shock."

All I could do was stand there as Kaipo rose to his feet and started pacing. He muttered something under his breath that I couldn't quite understand, and I did my best to give him the space to do so. It was what I expected anyone in this situation to do. Just because I had time to process this on my own without someone watching didn't mean I needed to control the narrative this time around.

"And you're a hundred percent positive?"

I winced. "Does taking three tests mean I'm three hundred percent positive?"

That stopped him in his tracks. And after a few beats, he laughed.

"I should just stop speaking at this point."

"You're fine."

He looked at my stomach. "How did you even produce enough pee for three pregnancy tests?"

I laughed. "I don't know. I drank, like, ten tons of Sunny D," I said, trying to make my voice sound like Elliot Page.

"Do I even want to know how much Sunny D you've bought—"

"No, you do not."

I was fully aware that dragging on about the details of how I was able to pee so much was dodging the real issue at hand here, but it was better than him not talking at all. If he had, indeed, gone into shock, I would have just panicked and not known what to do. The delicately maintained space between us certainly didn't go unnoticed either.

He paced again for a few more beats before flicking his gaze back over to me. "Do you want to sit?"

"If it's okay."

Kaipo nearly rolled his eyes. "As if you ever need to ask."

It probably wasn't the wisest thing to focus on, but it wasn't lost on me that this was where it happened.

I took a seat, my back facing him. After a few seconds, he walked around the bed, which had separated us, and sat next to me, closer than I anticipated. It wasn't like I didn't want to be near him, but the proximity reminded me of this significant connection between us, something I never thought we would have to deal with.

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

Although I was set on what would happen next, I still wanted to give Kaipo the space to talk if he wanted to. Nothing he said would change my mind—though I didn't anticipate, based on his reaction thus far, that our ideas would diverge anyway—but I respected him as a person and as a friend to let him have the floor.

"If there's anything you want to say right now," I said, "you can."

"Like what?"

"Like... what this means to you."

His eyebrows furrowed. "You think I would tell you to—"

I threw up my hands, unsure of how else to relieve all of this pent-up frustration. "I don't know! I've never had to deal with... this before. I just want you to be honest."

Kaipo grabbed my hands and guided me to look at him. "This is entirely your decision and I will be there for you either way, but if it means anything, I sure as hell don't want to have a baby right now. Maybe ever."

My shoulders sagged with relief. His confirmation wasn't unexpected but it was still very much needed. "Thank god."

"You don't believe in god."

"Thank Diablo Cody."

Kaipo squeezed my hand. "I prefer Jennifer's Body over Juno."

"All that movie needs is the hamburger phone and it would be perfect."

"My aunt's a nurse." He stood up and immediately went for his phone. "She can see about getting you an appointment."

I had forgotten about his aunt. I also hadn't done any research prior to coming over here, so I sat and watched as he worked. "Can't we just... walk into a Planned Parenthood or something?"

"Maybe." Kaipo shrugged. "But I imagine you'd still have to make an appointment, so it might be easier to see if she can help get us in."

"Do you think they'll make me explain myself? Like... why I'm getting it?"

He paused to look at me. "I'm not sure. But Hawai'i is one of the best states for reproductive rights, so I think, no matter what, we'll be fine."

"Okay." I nodded. "We'll be fine. I'll be fine."