“Fighting?” Casey’s voice rose.

“Not fighting,” I told Casey that night, from the studio, quietly over the phone. “Just arguing. And I’m exhausted. Maybe I’ve just been working too much.”

Three days later, I realized that I still hadn’t gotten my period. It had been weeks.

Buying a pregnancy test was a surreal experience. The last pregnancy scare I had was with Roger, when Casey took me to the Planned Parenthood clinic in Springfield with a container of my own urine, and we awkwardly cracked jokes on the drive into town. Roger and I were careless, all the time, maybe because we were both 19 and not thinking past the next day, and I remembered walking up to the door of the clinic and thinking, if this is it, I go back home, transfer to...

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