Page 27 of Made for Us

“What gave you that idea?” I ask her, leaning onto the nurses’ desk as she sits down.

“Sarah sent me a picture of you sleeping on the desk.” She rolls her lips as I gasp. Ever since I started the job five weeks ago, it’s been even better than what I could have imagined. The women I work with are so helpful and kind. It makes coming to work that much better.

“I was not sleeping. I was resting my eyes,” I inform her, and she just laughs. “My mind was alive.”

“Well, either way,” she says, grabbing the file on top and opening it, “you can go.”

I clap my hands quietly since it’s only six o’clock. “Thank you.” I turn and walk into the nurses’ lounge, where I take off my stethoscope from around my neck. Opening my locker, I grab my bag and toss it inside before I make my way outside.

I feel like I’m literally dragging my feet by the time I unlock the front door. I hear the television coming from the living room, so I know Gabriella is up. I dump my bag at the door, kick off my black Nike sneakers, and then peel my socks off. “That feels good.” I sigh as I walk into the kitchen and see Gabriella standing in a robe and her hair wrapped up in a towel. “Morning,” I greet as she pours a cup of coffee.

“I’m assuming you don’t want a cup?” She chuckles as I slide onto a stool at the island. I fold my arms in front of me and put my head down.

“I need a shower and to sleep for twenty-four hours,” I declare, looking at her, but having no strength to even get up, “thirty-six if I’m lucky.”

“I’ve never seen you this tired before.” She pours some milk in her coffee before taking a sip.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired before,” I admit to her. “Not even after staying up for a three-day stretch to study for my test.”

“Maybe you are getting your period.” She shrugs before she grabs the milk, walking to the fridge and putting it back in.

The minute she says that, I sit back up. “I don’t really get my period,” I share with her, and she just looks at me. “I skip the sugar pills, continuously taking the pill.”

“Is that good for you?” she asks, but I don’t listen to the question. Instead, I jump off the stool and run to the front door, grabbing my bag.

I squat down, my hands shaking, as I unzip it to grab my phone. Heat now climbing up my neck and rushing to my head as I open the period app. “No-no-no-no-no,” I chant over again and again, seeing I was ovulating while I was on vacation and we didn’t use protection.

“What’s the matter?” Gabriella stands there in the hallway.

“I think I’m late,” I tell her, turning back to my phone and checking to see if I’m actually doing it right.

“Well, maybe with the vacation and then coming back home and starting to work, it messed with your schedule.” She shrugs her shoulders, not even realizing what I’m saying.

“Oh my God.” I close my eyes. “Oh my God.” I sit down because my legs can’t hold me up as my stomach sinks and then rises. A burning sensation forms at the top of my stomach. “Oh my God.” My heart picks up even more speed, and I suddenly have trouble breathing as my head screams at me.

Gabriella just laughs, and I open my eyes to look at her, or better yet, glare at her. “What is your problem?” she asks, cocking her hip to the side and putting her fist on it. “It’s not like you had sex.” She throws her head back and laughs.

All I can do is close my eyes and chant, “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck.”

My chanting has Gabriella’s laugh come to a halt. Her eyes open wide as she looks at me. “You had sex?” she shrieks at me.

“Um,” I start to say, thinking there isn’t going to be any way I can deny it now. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” She throws her hands up in the air. “Maybe. Obviously, you weren’t doing it right if you don’t know if you had sex.” I put my hand to my stomach, making her freak out more. “What the fuck?” she yells. “When the hell did you have sex?”

“Six weeks ago,” I answer quietly. Almost one thousand and ten hours ago, my head chimes in. It’s been six weeks since I’ve seen him. Six weeks of thinking of nothing else but him. Six weeks of memories. Six weeks of nightmares of me seeing him, but him turning around when he sees me. Six weeks of me wishing I could go back to the day. Six weeks of emptiness.

“Six weeks ago?” Her voice goes even louder. “With who?” I think about making a name up. I think about saying anyone but him, but she knows me better than that. If I didn’t have sex in college or university with the guys I casually dated, there could only be one answer. “Who?”

“Fine.” I give up, standing. “Tristan,” I admit finally, and I’m sad the moment that was just ours now has Gabriella in it.

“Tristan!” she yells out even louder. “Tristan, Tristan?” she repeats his name twice as if she didn’t hear me right.

“How many other Tristans do you know?” I ask her.

“Tristan,” she says, her face in shock. “The Tristan you’re in love with?”

“Oh my God.” I roll my eyes at her. “I’m not in love with him.” She folds her arms over her chest. “I’m in lust with him. There is a difference.”

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