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I was sitting in my bed playing solitaire on my laptop when she came into my room. She sat down on the floor by my bed, with her back on the wall. Her worried expression told me something was up. I closed my laptop and moved to the edge of my bed, waiting for her to speak. Words never came. In their place came tears. The hot, heavy, sticky kind of tears. The kind of tears that have been held back for so long that they have collected so much raw human emotion, you tangibly see their burn when they finally break free of their prison. The kind of tears you feel in your soul, not just your heart.

We've cried together on more than one occasion. The kind of job we had, where we lived wasn't easy. Especially for the ones we loved all around us, the ones we fought for on a daily basis. Many times we had seen each other cry. Injustice, death, disappointment, disease, frustration were all common causes of our sensitive hearts' tears. But this was different.

I held her as she sobbed. She said nothing except for a few words of exasperation. She knew that she didn't have to speak literal words or tell me what was wrong. Friends are like that. They just know. Except I didn't. I waited for her to tell me, but she never did. She quietly wiped off her tears and left. I sat on the floor awhile longer, wondering what just happened, wondering if I should go upstairs and talk to her. I had been urging her to take a test for so long that it never occurred to me that she finally did. I knew the possibility was always on her mind, lurking around every corner like a creepy stalker that just wouldn't leave her alone. I just didn't know that she finally faced him.

I woke up the next morning and went to her little apartment upstairs for breakfast and for answers. She was still crying and so was our friend who came for her shift that morning. I felt like a little child watching her parents' marriage fall apart, wanting answers, wanting to understand the adult world, wanting to know "is it my fault?" But I also didn't want to smother her with questions or prod or be in the way or do anything abrasive. We hadn't been friends long and in this highly intense situation, I felt like I didn't know what to do because I was afraid I didn't know her.

I had just kind of showed up one day and she was just kind of there. I watched her take command over the crazy ship she captained, intimidated by her position. I just wanted to please, to work with my hands, to make a difference. I thought this would be easy when I showed up. I showed up saying, "here I am!" heart and hands open wide, thinking that would be enough. I thought I could be a strong and hardworking deckhand, happily about my business changing the world. I had never imagined the storms would be so strong, nor the waves so large, so overwhelming.

We finally exchanged words and my dense mind wholly understood. "So you did take a test?" She looked confused, like her tears had already done the talking for her. "Yes, that's what last night was about." My nineteen years of life experience had failed me. My head understood before my heart did, as always; which is why I like it better. My heart is too slow to comprehend, to believe, to let go. It's finicky like that. So I followed my head. I quickly got the supplies I needed and asked her to pee in a cup. I walked over to the clinic with specimen in hand and performed my own test. I needed to do it more than I needed to hear it. It didn't take long to turn positive. And in that dark, damp, concrete clinic in a small country surrounded by a big ocean, I cried. I cried those same hot, heavy, sticky tears that had been collecting since August. I cried tears that burned when they broke free, the kind I could feel in my soul. My best friend was pregnant.