A Secret for a Secret

by Emily Babbitt

With a bottle of cranberry juice tucked under her arm, Laura plucked a box of urinary tract health supplements from the shelf in the family planning aisle of Walmart Neighborhood Market. Her bladder protested as she read the back of the box. She’d woken up with a UTI—again—and spent the morning chugging water and pissing like a fire hydrant, but it still burned, and she still didn’t have the money to spend on an urgent care visit for antibiotics and a lecture on proper wiping technique. 

Image credit: Eduardo Soares on Unsplash

Someone stepped into her peripherals—a woman, around Laura’s age, with white-blond hair tied into a messy knot on top of her head. It should have made her look disheveled, but the result was effortless chic and made Laura regret pairing Crocs with one of Tanner’s old tee shirts. The woman grabbed a few things and tossed them into the basket slung over her arm. She was familiar, but Laura couldn’t put her finger on why until she started to walk away. Her right foot turned in slightly, a hint of pigeon toe, and then Laura remembered. Madeline Matthews. Voted best smile in their senior superlatives and nominated for homecoming court four years in a row. 

She looked mostly the same as she had in high school, but her hair was several shades lighter, and floral tattoos sleeved her left arm from shoulder to wrist.

“Madeline?” Laura took a step toward her. 

The woman’s head whipped around; brown eyes wide behind heavy, plastic-frame glasses. They softened when they landed on Laura. 

“Laura!” The superlative-winning smile broke across her face. 

“It’s been forever. How’ve you been?” Laura shifted the bottle of juice to rest under her other arm.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” Madeline scratched her chin, a chunky silver engagement ring and wedding band glittering under the fluorescents. “I’ve been good.” Her gaze shifted to the basket on her arm. “Everything’s good.”

Several Clearblue pregnancy tests sat in the basket. 

Laura and Madeline weren’t friends on Facebook, so Laura didn’t know how her former classmate was doing. She’d heard through the grapevine that Madeline had married her college sweetheart right after graduation, but Laura’s knowledge of the other woman’s life ended around age twenty-two. Whether the pregnancy test was a good thing or not, Laura wouldn’t know. 

“Cranberry pills work better than juice.” Madeline motioned to the jug. “Unless you get pure cranberry, it’s so full of sugar, it’ll just make it worse. And the plain stuff tastes so bad, it’s not even worth it.” 

Laura nodded. The juice was, in fact, Great Value brand cranberry cocktail, though she had chosen the sugar-free option. 

“That’s good to know, thanks.” Laura bit her lip, unsure what to say next. She and Madeline hadn’t been particularly close friends. They played volleyball together and took similar course loads, but their overlap ended there. “I heard you got married a while ago.” 

Madeline nodded. “Yep. My husband and I just celebrated six years.” 

“Congrats.” 

“What about you? Are you married?” Madeline crossed her arms over her chest. The delicate lines of her tattoos gave her arm the appearance of being clad in lace fit for a Goth bride. While her artwork had never been so substantial, she’d been a chronic doodler in school, often scribbling flowers on the knees of her jeans and the back of her hands. 

“No, not married.” Laura’s face flushed. She and Tanner had been together since college, likely as long as Madeline and her husband, yet Laura’s finger was bare, and she was at Walmart Neighborhood Market alone on a Sunday morning buying at-home remedies for a nearly chronic condition she should probably see a specialist for. A specialist she couldn’t afford without getting on Tanner’s health insurance plan. A plan she couldn’t join unless they got married. “My boyfriend and I have talked about it though. Probably sometime next year.” A lie, but an innocent one. She probably wouldn’t see Madeline again for another decade, if ever. She and Tanner would likely be married by then. If he ever came around to it. 

“Good for you.” Madeline smiled again, showing her dimples. 

Laura knew better than to ask about the pregnancy tests, but they hung heavy between them—literally. Madeline held the basket in front of her. The boxes with the words “Triple Assurance” and “Three ways to test for pregnancy” nearly shouted at Laura. And Madeline seemed so happy—it felt almost rude not to ask. 

“Adding to your family soon?” Laura’s eyes flicked down to the boxes and then back up. 

Madeline’s smile faltered, nearly imperceptible—had Laura blinked, she would have missed it. “Planning to!” The woman said a bit too enthusiastically. 

“Good for you.” Laura drummed the fingers of her free hand against her thigh. “Well, I’d better put this back.” She motioned to the jug. “It was nice running into you. I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. Good luck with the baby and everything.” 

“Thanks, you too.” Madeline turned almost too quickly but then stopped. Her shoulders slumped. She whipped back around. “Can I tell you something?” Tears welled behind her glasses.

“Sure.” In protest, Laura’s bladder throbbed, and she tried not to visibly wince. As much as she wanted to avoid it, she’d probably have to stop by the restroom on her way out. 

“This is the third time I’ve tested this month.” A tear dripped down Madeline’s cheek. “I know it’s going to be negative, but I keep telling myself that it could be positive. Maybe I tested too early last time or the test was expired. That’s why I’m buying so many… I just need to be sure.” Another tear ran into the seam of her lips, and she licked it away.  “I’ve been trying to get pregnant for years… but it just hasn’t happened yet.” 

Laura’s entire body burned. Madeline had just divulged what was likely her deepest source of heartbreak to a near stranger. Not knowing what else to do, Laura set the cranberry cocktail on the floor and wrapped her arms around the blond woman’s shoulders. It seemed like the only appropriate thing to do, given the circumstances. 

Madeline squeezed Laura with her flowered arm and then drew back to wipe her tears. “Sorry. I just had to tell someone. My husband and I have kept this to ourselves. I know we haven’t talked in years—” She let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe that’s why I felt like I could tell you.” The moisture and heat radiating from her face fogged the lenses of her glasses. “Please don’t mention this to anyone.” 

“I won’t.” Her words didn’t seem like enough, not with what Madeline had just shared. “I’m probably not going to get married next year,” Laura blurted. “I don’t know if my boyfriend ever wants to get married, and even if he asked, I don’t think I’d say yes.” 

Madeline blinked; her mouth parted slightly. Something akin to understanding passed over her face, and she nodded. 

A secret for a secret. 

Without another word, Madeline turned and walked away with her pregnancy tests. Laura took her advice and grabbed a bottle of cranberry supplements from the next aisle before heading to checkout, forgetting the juice cocktail on the floor of the family planning aisle. 

***

Emily Babbitt

Emily Babbitt is an author and blogger based in Central Virginia. Her short fiction has appeared in magazines, newspapers, online publications, anthologies, and literary journals, including Heart of Flesh and Jimson Weed. In 2024, the Virginia Writers Club awarded her a first-place prize for her essay Forgotten Places in its annual Golden Nib Contest. She blogs weekly about family, religion, and creativity at EmilyBabbitt.com.