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They don't speak, as soon as they set up the egg timer, leave the bathroom. Roy flops onto the sofa and Cady skulks into the kitchen, tries to find something that she can do with herself for ten minutes. Making up the batter for brownies would probably take too long—especially if she stirs the mixture by hand, which she needs to do because it's better than trying to strangle Roy or put her fist through a window. Neither of those options sounds especially bad anymore. They just sound like something to avoid because they might make things harder in the long run. Possibly pregnant and in the emergency room? Or in prison? No, sir. No, ma'am. Cady can't have it. She'll have it even less than a this still-hypothetical baby.
She goes for the brownie mix after all, doesn't waste any time dithering about whether or not she'll have time enough. She can make time. It's not like she needs to read that idiotic test in the first place; she can already guess at what the answer is. It's pretty simple—simpler than cracking two eggs, adding a third-cup of vegetable oil and a quarter-cup of water—she and Roy should have been more careful, shouldn't have had sex that one night, after his first guys' night out with Mac and Carleton—she should've been more diligent with her pills since they haven't used condoms in ages—they could've just kept up not having sex and it would've been just fine… But since they had to go and actually sleep together—since they had to get naked and make the beast with two backs—well, what else would a late period mean?
Whipping her spoon through the batter doesn't settle her mind and the thick stench of the chocolate makes her want to puke. Why did she think this was a good idea? Why did she think that any of this was a good idea? Now, there's a mess on the counter—from the box mix's empty package to the spot where the oil spilled over the measuring cup and Cady's hand was too unsteady to move it nicely—and why shouldn't there be? Everything else in Cady's life is a mess, she's gotten that mess all over Roy's life at that, she'll get it all over Aubeline's too if she ever marries the poor girl's brother or if Aubeline keeps holding her up like something she should aspire to be… Aubeline deserves so much better, in her own life and in a sister-in-law. She deserves to set her sights so much higher than she would in thinking she should be like Cady.
Cady hasn't even gotten into graduate school yet. She can grease a pan just fine, she can tune out the egg timer (for the most part), but she's spitting on all the potential that everybody thinks she's supposed to have.
"Do you want a boy or a girl?" Roy's words slice through the silence, call Cady out to the living room, once she's washed her hands, can hold herself without smearing chocolate batter all up and down her arms. Without risking getting that on the doorway's frame when she slouches on it. Roy turns back on the sofa, gives her the wobbliest, most hopeful smile that he can manage, and asks again, "Do you want a boy or a girl, honey? If the test comes up positive?"
Cady shudders, digs her nails into her upper arms, and sighs. "Honestly, Babe? If it's positive, I just… I hope it's not?" She pauses, forces herself to meet his eyes. "I'm just hoping to God that I have cancer instead, okay? Cancer, I can handle. Cancer, I can deal with. But a baby?" She shakes her head, sulks back into the kitchen, pours the batter out into her favorite pan.