“Adina, let's go. I don't have all day. Do you think this is how I envisioned my day? Babysitting you in the bathroom?” my mother asked.
I was sitting in our bathroom forever willing myself to fill up this cup with urine. Seconds seemed like minutes and the minutes felt like forever. My mom stood there in the doorway – she wasn't staring me down but her presence made it awkward as fuck and deterred me from watering down my orange urine with water. My parents had never made me pee in a cup before, but after I spent a month pretending to sleep with any spare time I had away because I was depressed, they decided that I was either doing drugs or pregnant, and they wanted to get to the bottom of it. I didn't even have a boyfriend, and the people I went to school with were idiots. Frankly put, I was a loner. No one wanted to even hang out with me, let alone have sex with me. And my mom? A frumpy middle-aged woman. Her favorite past-time? Embarrassing me while wearing mom pants and old sweatshirts and micromanaging me. She was not helping me with my game.
“Is it really that hard to piss in a cup? What's wrong with you?”
"It is when you're standing there," I barked back while I stared at the tan paint, chipping along the edge of the wall where it meets our tub, wondering why the hell the previous owners of this place thought that a blinding bright yellow would be a good idea for a tiny bathroom.
“It's about time.” my mother said when it finally came.
I only refer to her as my mother when she's annoying me, and in this moment she was very annoying. I walked away while she fiddled with the syringe to get the drops of urine required for the pregnancy test before got out the test strips that would test for marijuana, cocaine, and a bunch of other drugs I hadn't even heard of. For me, it was a waste of time, for her, it would be a waste of money.
Apparently, we were here because all teenagers lie, and while I'm sure some do, I never really did. I have no friends, no social life, and no sex life, so what do I have to lie about? I go to school, I do my homework, I read books, and I stay at home on Friday nights, wishing I was someone else, or at least had something to lie about. Literally, the only thing I had to lie about is what time I went to bed because I stayed up reading that one last page over and over, and that's why I was late waking up for school. But I digress. I guess it's pointless when you're the child and someone else is the parent – they're always trained to be skeptical of you, even when you're telling the truth.
My parents always saw me as something to be controlled and micromanaged. When I was young, it was sports, but I had no athletic ability. They finally gave up on sports when I got old enough for my grades to matter. They wanted me to go to an Ivy League school and they were pissed because I wanted no part of that. I didn't know what I wanted to do, but it wouldn't be going to some Ivy League school where all that mattered was my GPA, so I did what any reasonable teenager would do...I made my GPA drop.
“Damn Gary, I was sure she was up to something. Why the hell is she sleeping all the time if she's not knocked up or on drugs? Why the hell are her grades dropping? This doesn't make any sense,” I could hear my mom say. Not only was I clean, but my uterus was vacant as well.
“Well, at least we know she's not in trouble. She's a good kid, Deb. Maybe we need to give her the benefit of the doubt; maybe her classes are hard and she's been up studying all night for her finals,” my dad replied with anger.
"Studying? You know she's NOT studying with those grades," my mother yelled at him.
"If you keep yelling like that, she's going to hear you," my dad calmly said to her. My dad was always sticking up for me, and she hated it. I could already hear them though - it's hard not to when our rooms were next to each other and the walls were paper thin.
“We both know your little princess isn't going to go to college and she's not studying for her fucking finals,” my mother spit back.
"And this conversation has definitely crossed over into the unnecessary lane," my father said as he left the room and calmly shut the door. I didn't understand how he could be so calm and collected around her.
As for me, I just wanted to crawl in a hole and die because well, this was my life. For the next six months, I was stuck here. August and my 18th birthday literally couldn't get here fast enough. But hey, at least I wasn't knocked up, right?
Where do you want to see Adina go next? Let me know in the comments.
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