Page 11 of Thorns That Bloom
We need to talk
Chapter 4
Sam
This has been a long week, hasn’t it? I can hardly believe it’s been nearly a month since I started here. The first three weeks were marked by endless anxiety as I tried to catch up and learn everything. With a constant stream of new names, places, and experiences… I’ve barely had the mental energy to unpack all my things, coming home every evening tired and hungry and completely drained.
Now that I’ve finally settled a bit, it’s my body that’s giving me trouble.
“Almost Friday,” I whisper, rubbing my forehead while I rest my elbows on the table. The truth is, I still have most of the day left, but I try to convince myself that Wednesday lunchtime is close enough to the weekend for me to survive.
Still, my head’s killing me. I haven’t felt this bad since the first month or two when I had constant nausea.
I take a sip of the water next to me, hoping it’s just dehydration. It doesn’t help much with the headache or the strange sense of unease, so I just shake it off, swallowing hard and focusing backon the screen.
“Sam?”
I jolt and quickly look over the monitor toward the door.
Kristoff stands there with that friendly, hopeful smile. I already know what he’s going to ask before he opens his mouth. “Want to go for lunch?”
The usual split-second reaction of discomfort flashes over me. I quickly push it aside, wondering if maybe having something to eat might make me feel better. After all, I haven’t eaten anything since morning.
“Sure,” I say, standing up slowly. This room’s getting stuffy, anyway. I dread to think about how bad it’s going to get in the coming summer months. But by then, I imagine thateverythingis going to be insufferable to me.
Kristoff chats away about some trip he’s going on with his friends, but I scarcely listen as we make our way to the cafeteria. I have my own shit to worry about. With each passing month, I get more and more stressed about all the stuff that needs to be sorted and bought, and all the knowledge I have to absorb to be the best parent I can be. The best person I can become.
I need to get my life together by the time the baby’s here, and that time doesn’t feel as impossibly far in the future as it did even a couple of weeks ago.
We get downstairs and enter the massive room buzzing with voices and the clinking of cutlery against plates. I try not to let the sounds overwhelm me, keeping my head down and my breath steady. Every time I get out of that safe space of mine and I’m thrust among people, it feels like everyone’s staring at me. They probably are; some of them, at least…
The middle-aged ladies from the office sit together at thelargest table, tirelessly chattering like some hive-mind, and when I pass by, I can almost sense their excited urge to come up to me and ask about all the silly things they want to ask.
Questions about the baby. How am I doing? How far along am I? The intrusive small talk that I genuinely have no mental capacity for.
One of the big disadvantages of pregnancy when you’re an antisocial introvert.
A part of me feels bad for coming off as so distant and unfriendly, but I’m taking everything one day at a time right now. If I have only enough energy for either doing my work properly or being friendly with my coworkers, I will choose the one that pays the bills.
Thankfully, Kristoff usually lets me keep my distance. I sit with his little group in the corner of the cafeteria as usual. They’re all younger guys and somewhat awkward. The good thing about that is that they leave me alone and don’t try to force a conversation most of the time. It’s an arrangement I’m satisfied with.
I poke the meat on the plate. Is the uneasy feeling at the bottom of my stomach nausea? Anxiety? Food irritation? I can’t even tell anymore.
Sighing, I close my eyes briefly and rub my forehead, trying to relieve the uncomfortable pressure. The people from Manufacturing are so loud I can hear their laughing and hollering all the way from across the room. Lowering my head, I press my index and middle fingers against my temple.
Come on. You’re fine.
But there’s something not-okay about my body. It’s not a panic attack. I know those well enough now. No, this issomething else, and not knowing exactly what is happening to me starts to build the dread inside my chest.
“Are you alright, Sam?” one of the guys asks.
I don’t like how all their attention turns to me, so I face away. “Yeah, I’m…I’ll be right back,” I say while standing up. The sweater I’m wearing suddenly feels like a straitjacket and a furnace at the same time. Wiping away the droplets of sweat pooling on my forehead underneath my hair, I walk toward the restroom.
By the time I open the door, I feel so unwell I don’t even pay mind to that sense of sharp, tense discomfort that now lives within me whenever I go there. Any lingering memories are overridden by the goddamn hot flushes passing over me and the lightness of my head that makes me shaky on my feet.
I lean over one of the sinks with the long mirror running across the wall above it.Hell, I look pale.
What’s going on with me? These symptoms almost feel like when I’m going into heat, but…I’m pregnant. This shouldn’t be happening, right?
