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Sighing, I push away from the counter, grab my Sprite, and head for the living room. I take a small drink of the cold liquid, grateful it doesn’t make my stomach uneasy, and curl up on my side. I definitely don’t feel like I’m sick, despite the upset stomach, but perhaps Blair is wrong and I have a rare case of the flu. Stranger things have happened, especially for teachers who are around kids all day long.
But…I haven’t exactly been around the kids yet, outside of the backpack nights.
Keeping my eyes closed, I relax and decide a nap would probably do the trick. When I was younger and not feeling well, there was something magical about napping that seemed to make everything better.
But as I lie here, my mind won’t settle enough. The truth is, while I’m a little drained, I’m not really tired. My mind is going from one direction to the other, spinning with all the things I want to get done this weekend before school starts. I need to mow, clean out the refrigerator, and go grocery shopping. Plus, dust, vacuum, and wash a few loads of laundry. There’s just too much to get done, and no time to be under the weather.
Then, something else hits me.
My period.
That’s what this is. I’m getting ready to start. Sure, the symptoms are slightly different. Instead of the cramping and discomfort, it’s nausea and fatigue. Ugh, this is going to be a rough week if I’m dealing with my period on top of starting the school year.
As I lie here, trying to relax, my brain starts to do the math. Suddenly, I sit up and swing my legs over the couch. My mouth drops open moments before I scramble from where I sit in search of my phone. I dump my purse onto the counter and find the device right away. It takes me three tries to input my passcode, but finally, I’m granted access.
Pulling up my calendar, I slowly walk toward the couch once more. I scan the prior weeks of August, searching for the info I need. When I don’t find it, I flip the month to the one prior and continue my hunt. When I finally see the date, I start computing the weeks since. The moment I hit five…
“No. Oh my God, no,” I whisper, going back to July and doing the math once more, coming up with the same result.
Five weeks.
It’s been five weeks since my last period.
I’m officially late.
I flip over to the message app and pull up Blair’s name.
Me: What time is Gabe leaving to go to Hudson?
It takes her a few minutes—minutes where I fret and fidget and try not to freak the fuck out—but eventually, my phone dings with a response.
Blair: He leaves at three. Why? What’s up?
Me: I may stop by.
My heart is pounding like a galloping racehorse in my chest.
Blair: No problem. Still not feeling well?
Me: Not really.
Blair: All right. I’ll tell the front desk to send you back to my office when you get here.
Me: Thanks, Blair. See you around 3:30.
She replies with the thumbs-up emoji, and I feel like I might have a heart attack when I toss my phone on the couch. How can this be happening? I know my period can be somewhat wonky and is often heavy, which is why I always log it in my calendar to help keep track of it. I should have started last week, and while I’ve occasionally fluctuated a day or two early or late, I’ve never been seven days late.
Never.
Three thirty can’t come soon enough.
With a shaky hand, I open the front entrance door to Pine Village Medical Clinic and step inside. Thankfully, there is no one in the waiting area to witness my arrival, not that they’d know why I’m here, but still.
“Hi, Hallie. Blair mentioned you were stopping by. Go ahead and go back to her office. She’s just wrapping up with a patient,” Stella Stabler says with a smile, pointing to the doorway.
“Thanks, Stella,” I reply brightly, hoping it doesn’t come off too fake.
I bypass the doors on both sides of the hall until I get to the end, just past the employee break room. On the left is my brother’s office, and on the right is Blair’s. It used to be her father’s, but when he decided to take a step back following his heart attack, he passed it to his daughter to use.
