Page 25 of Brood
I don’t.
Finally, he says, “I can give you a shift exemption this afternoon if you need it.”
“Oh.” The idea of having the rest of the day off is a dream, but it’s also weak and needy, and I’ve never been like that. “No, I’m okay. I don’t need an exemption.”
“All right.”
He doesn’t say anything else. Just keeps peering at me.
I hug my arms across my chest. “I better get back to work, or Monica will let me have it.”
“She better not. Let me know if she says anything.”
“I will.” I stand in front of the door, waiting for it to slide open. As it does, I give Will one more quick look over my shoulder. He’s got some sort of dirt smear on his cheek and into his beard. I want to clean it off for him. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Yes.”
And that’s it. I go back to work.
* * *
That evening, I’m still sore and sickish. I can’t seem to shake that examination.
I don’t even know why.
I don’t eat much at dinner, and then I return to quarters early. I spend longer than usual cleaning myself up. Then I put back on my camisole and loose, light pants. I usually wear only my panties to bed, but for some reason, I want to be covered up tonight.
I’m curled up on my side in bed when Will comes in.
“You said you weren’t sick.” He sounds disapproving but not bad-tempered.
“I’m not. Just kind of sore.”
“From what?”
“From…the exam. He uses a speculum and opens my vagina really wide. It hurts.”
He frowns, breathing heavily.
“It’s normal. It’s the only way to see inside. I just…don’t like it.”
He takes three steps closer to my bed. “Did something happen during the examination?”
“No. No. It was all normal. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It just made me feel…”
“It made you feel what?”
“Icky.” It’s a silly, immature word, but I can’t think of another as appropriate.
He’s breathing even more loudly now. Deep and kind of ragged. His shoulders and his hands are clenched.
“It’s fine,” I add, since it looks like he might be getting angry. His response is making my own feelings realer and more intense, and I’d rather minimize and brush aside the whole thing. “It really was mostly like all the other exams I’ve had in my life.”
“Next time I’ll sit in,” he says at last.
“On the exam? I don’t think he’ll let you.”
“Yes, he fucking will.” The implicit threat in his tone is deeply reassuring. “I’m a chief, and he’s not.”
