Page 130 of More Than Words

Deciding it was probably safe to give her half a bottle, I settled into the couch and fed her until she fell asleep, her lips gumming the nipple when she drifted off part way through.

With all the lights off, the apartment was quiet. Her quiet sighs made it impossible to think about putting her back in the crib, so I settled back against the pillows in the corner of the couch with her tucked against my chest. Closing my eyes, I rubbed her back, drifting but not quite asleep until gentle streams of sunlight started to filter in my windows.

ISOBEL

Boston

When I’d packed Fin up to go to the office this afternoon, I hadn’t anticipated ending the day perched on a toilet seat with a breast pump attached to my chest trying not to cry. My life didn’t feel like my own right now, and I couldn’t even get through half a day without breaking down.

I was supposed to go and finish a business dinner with an author we were trying to woo, and I had freaking bullseye breast milk stains on the front of my now see-through blouse.

One day.

I just wanted one fucking day where I didn’t feel like a failure.

One day where I could just feel normal instead of this alien version of myself that couldn’t seem to do anything right.

For fuck’s sake, I was crying in a restaurant bathroom stall being milked like a cow because I heard a baby crying on the other side of the restaurant and my milk let down.

The noise of the restaurant almost drowned out the sound of the pump when the door to the ladies’ room opened. The door to the stall next to me closed before a voice asked, “What’s that noise?”

“I don’t know. It kinda sounds like you’re in your room after ten every night.”

“You can hear that?”

“Oh my god, I think everyone on our floor can hear it. My electric toothbrush is quieter than your vibrator.”

“Seriously. What is that? It’s kind of creeping me out.”

Trying to ignore the commentary on my current state of being, I turned off the pump, suddenly self-conscious about leaving the stall.

“Sounds like they’re done. Wish I could come that quietly,” the one closest said.

“Yeah, so do I.”

“Must have really needed to take the edge off if they’re doing that in a bathroom stall.”

Both women laughed, and I cringed while I packed away the collection bottles and re-buttoned my stained blouse. Awkwardly balancing my pump bag with my purse, I tried to put my blazer back on without dropping anything.

When I opened my door, the stall next to me did at the same time, and I made eye contact with the woman emerging before looking down and heading to the sink.

The other stall opened and another young woman in a tight, short dress joined us at the sinks.

They both eyed me as I washed my hands before rinsing off the parts to my pump. It’d be nice if these things magically cleaned themselves so I could escape right now.

“What is that?” the one closest asked, and the other smacked her in the shoulder. She turned to her friend and shrugged. “What? You’re the one who thought it was a vibrator.”

At this point, I wished it was a vibrator. Since I hadn’t had an orgasm in over four months, and probably wouldn’t ever again once Adrian decided to stop putting up with me.

“It’s a breast pump.”

Their mouths puckered, and they looked at me.

“Is that like a sex thing?”

“Holy shit, you’re an idiot,” her friend hissed.

“I don’t know what a breast pump is.”

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