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It does the trick, thank goodness. Throwing up is bad enough, but doing so in a public bathroom is somehow even worse. If I’m going to be sick, I would rather wait until I get home.
My smart watch buzzes, congratulating me for meeting my fitness goal for the day. I pull out my phone to sync it with the app because deep down inside I am a data nerd who enjoys going over my stats. How many calories I burned, that kind of thing. While I’m waiting for the app to sync I scroll down through the other stats.
And that’s when I see it.
Weird. I tap on the alert, which takes me to a small calendar where my monthly cycle is laid out. I remember my last period clearly, and it was carefully documented here.
And as I count through the weeks since then, it’s clear there’s no mistake.
I’m a week late.
21
HARLOW
Okay. Don’t jump to conclusions. What are the facts?
The facts? Let’s see. I’m staring down at my phone like I’ve never seen it before, standing at the sink, hoping nobody walks in here right now. I wouldn’t want to explain why I probably look like I just saw a ghost. Granted, I’m sure there are plenty of grown women who have had a moment like this. Maybe if someone did come in, whoever she is would offer words of encouragement.
Either that, or they’d tell me about a surprise pregnancy. I’m not sure if I could handle that.
But I’m not ready to leave this bathroom, either. See, if I do that, I run the risk of having to talk to somebody. Like, what if Coach Kozak happens to cross my path? I’d probably burst into tears. Rather than risk that, I duck into one of the stalls once again and lean against the door. The cool metal is a sharp contrast against my suddenly flushed, overheated body.
What are the facts?
Let’s see. I’m a week late. It’s not like that’s never happened before in the entire history of my life. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, God knows. Stress can affect a woman’s cycle. That’s common knowledge. For all I know, my monthly visitor will show up once I get home, or sometime overnight. That’s usually how it happens. And this worrying and stressing will have all been for nothing.
Besides, I’m always careful with my pills. I never miss one. Especially now, being with the guys. The least I can do is be responsible.
I have run like clockwork ever since I started on the pill. It’s sort of hard not to. So no matter how I try to reassure myself that this is only a matter of stress messing with my hormones, there’s part of me that doesn’t buy it. Maybe if I weren’t on birth control, that would make sense. But I am, and I’ve been stressed before, and it’s never affected me this way. Binge eating, manic house cleaning? Sure. They are my fallback. But skipping a period? That’s a new one.
Wouldn’t that just be my luck? I cover my mouth with one hand to stifle a disbelieving laugh that sounds a lot more like a sob. Finally, everything is back on track. I have my work. My professional reputation is still intact. And even though it’s hands off with the guys for now, I know they’ll be waiting for me when the season’s over. Everything is clicking again.
And now, something else. Something else with the power to rock my entire world.
Suddenly, there isn’t enough air in the room. I force myself to breathe slowly, to take my time, to ground myself in reality. The cool metal against my back helps. I focus on that, touching a palm to the surface, closing my eyes and tuning into mysurroundings. This is reality. This is the present moment. Everything else is a figment of my imagination.
Unfortunately, when we imagine things – especially very vividly, to the point where we involve our emotions – our subconscious can’t tell we aren’t going through that literal moment in reality. That’s one thing I’ve had to remind pretty much every player on the team at one point or another. If you keep replaying your bad moments, your missed timing, your mistakes, your brain ends up in a constant feedback loop and your system keeps reacting like it’s under stress. It’s like rolling a snowball down the side of a snowy mountain. That’s why it’s better to envision things going well, to relive the positive moments. It changes your energy. It can even unlock an athlete’s full potential.
I am no athlete, and it’s not my potential that’s at stake, but I cling to the concept just as desperately. Right now, I don’t know anything for sure, and stressing myself out before I have all the facts in order isn’t going to help things. I didn’t spend all those years in school to forget my training when it matters most.
Deep breaths. I take a few, then push away from the door. My legs feel stronger now, if a little sore from the exertion on the rink. Maybe I won’t stop by my office, after all. I mean I’d probably sit at my desk and stare at the wall and wonder if anything in my life will ever be the same. I can do that at home.
Somehow, I manage to leave the bathroom and walk slowly and calmly to the parking lot. No big deal. Just another person going to their car, preparing to drive home. I’m not a nervous wreck or anything. Why should I be? Everything is going my way again, right? A nervous giggle bubbles up in my chest in time for a stranger exiting her car to notice. The concerned look she givesme makes me walk faster, hustling toward my car like it’s my lifeline.
Yet when I’m inside, I don’t feel much better. I fold my arms over the wheel and rest my forehead against them, closing my eyes, taking a few shaky breaths. There really is no reason for me to freak out like this. I’m on the pill. Things happen, cycles get messed up, and it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m pregnant.
I wish somebody would tell that to the gut feeling I can’t shake. This isn’t a matter of me being a pessimist. I just… have a feeling.
You’re talking yourself into it.Okay, maybe I am. But there’s no talking myself out of it.What if, what if. That sort of thinking can drive a person out of their mind. I shouldn’t do that to myself.
Especially when it could be bad for the baby.
Something that feels a lot like a lightning bolt zips through me and forces me to sit upright. This is madness. There’s only one way to know for sure whether I have anything to worry about, and it’s at the drugstore right this very minute. I am sure that if I take a test, I’ll see how silly all this excitement was. All I have to do is drive to the store, pick one up, and get it over with.
Yep. Here I go. Driving away, heading home, ready to face whatever comes my way.
In other words, the car hasn’t moved and I can’t bring myself to start the engine. Because right now, sitting out here, there’s an equal chance of all this excitement and worry being for nothing. In a way, it’s a lot like the back-and-forth struggle I went through when it came to confronting the coach about my job. In a way, it was safer to let things go as they were, to stay away andcollect my direct deposit at the end of the week and float around in limbo. That way, I didn’t have to face the very real possibility of being fired.
