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The launch party is looming ever closer, and between being torn up over Jake — no matter how many times I remind myself he’s not worth getting torn up over — and stressed beyond belief, it doesn’t occur to me to panic about the fact that I’ve started throwing up my breakfast until I’m a week late for my cycle.
Stress does that, though, right? Messes with your rhythms, makes it difficult for your body to regulate the heinously complex chemical cocktails it’s constantly shaking up. Right?
For that week, I can believe that. I’m short on tampons, so I even go and buy a variety pack. I’ve been late before, and it always arrives with a vengeance.
After the next week, I panic.
I’m on the phone making an appointment with a woman I never expected to see in a professional setting. My friend Annie is a doula, and I’ve referred lots of my own clients to her. She’s fantastic. She’s also a calming presence.
Almost the moment I walk in, Annie sizes me up like the village wise woman, both eyebrows raising just a hair.
I’m not superstitious, and I don’t believe in half the stuff she sometimes says, but that look makes my heart ache in my chest. “Oh, fuck,” I whisper. “Fuck, no…”
Annie winces, and comes to me, pulling me into a hug. “Come on,” she says gently, rubbing my back. “You’re fine. You’ll be just fine, okay? Come sit down.”
“I’m so stupid, Annie,” I mutter, barely keeping myself together. “I’ve been so, so fucking stupid.”
“Hush,” Annie says as she lowers me into a comfortable chair like I’m already eight months along. She speaks in this gentle, calming way she’s mastered from years of practice as she fixes us both a cup of tea — very likely something herbal and caffeine-free. Oh shit. How am I going to even live my life without four cups of coffee a day? For nine months?
“I’ll order you a blood test,” she says. “We don’t know anything yet, right?”
“What’s that mean?” I ask, and immediately regret it. “Sorry… sorry. I’m tense.”
“Take this,” she says, pushing a warm mug into my hand. “It’ll calm you down and it’s good for the… well, anyway. So… what happened?”
“Do I have to swear you to secrecy?” I ask, trying to make a joke.
Annie looks like I slapped her, though. “I would never — ”
“Sorry,” I say again. “Bad joke. I’m… not right, at the moment. Um… I met a guy, obviously.”
That, at least, gets a small chuckle from her.
“Jake Ferry… Reginald Ferry’s son,” I say, quietly, like there might be other people listening.
Annie’s eyebrows go way up at that. “The… billionaire Ferry? The one that opened up Ferry Lights?”
“Don’t judge me,” I beg her.
“I would never,” Annie says, God bless her cotton socks. “Wow. That’s… something.”
“A gross oversight and lapse of judgment?” I suggest. I don’t need her to confirm it. “I should have used protection, but you know the doctor told me that I wasn’t likely to be able to have kids after the ovary operation I had when I was eighteen. Still, I should be on birth control for fuck’s sake. I just… never thought it would be an issue… you know, I’m busy all the time. It’s never been an issue.”
“Does he know?” she asks me, tentatively, like I might bite. In fairness, I’d be just as worried in her shoes. I am not in a good mood.
My cheeks get hot, and I can’t quite say anything. Which for Annie is enough of an answer.
“Okay,” she breathes.
“If this gets out, if I tell him and… Annie, I’ll be the laughingstock of social media. People will say I slept with him and got knocked up on purpose to get a shot at his daddy’s money and after what he… I can’t be with him. I can’t.”
Christ, I never cry. What the fuck is happening to me? Is this what it’s going to be like for the next nine months? I need to be on my game, on point, for the next phase of Red Hall and…
Gloria. Jesus, that twit can’t keep her mouth shut about what soda I drink, much less that I’m pregnant. How long before I start to show? I can feel a clock ticking away to my self-destruct moment.
“Calm down,” Annie says, putting a hand on my back. I’m hyperventilating. “Deep breaths. In, and out… in… and out. Okay. Let’s take it one step at a time. We’ll get the test done, and go from there. And Janie?”
I look up at her, my eyes hot and puffy from crying.
