Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Suzie
The days blur together, slipping through my fingers like molten glass. I lose myself in the rhythm of the hot shop—heat blasting my face, my hands twisting rods, shaping glowing orbs in the furnace's burn, the weight of exhaustion pulling me under at night. When I collapse into bed each night, the ache in my body is a welcome distraction from everything swirling beneath the surface.
But it's catching up with me. I feel it in every step, in every breath that's just a little too heavy. I tell myself I just need sleep, that the dizziness is nothing more than exhaustion.
I've been living in Tacoma for just over a month now, and each day is harder than the one before.
But at least I'm enjoying every minute on the hot shop floor, creating new pieces of art. I haven't spent a lot of time making new friends, opting instead to focus on what's important for now.
And right this minute? Creating the most perfectly round bubble of glass has all my focus. I have an intern helping me, but she's young, and even greener than I am. The glass glows a perfect amber orange, the punty balances in my hands., and then... everything tilts. My vision swims and the world wobbles beneath me.
"Suzie!" My intern's voice sounds distant, like I'm hearing it underwater.
The next thing I know, my knees buckle, and I fall forward. The rod slips from my grasp, grazing my wrist as it clatters to the floor. A sharp, searing pain shoots up my arm, but it barely registers before everything goes black.
When I open my eyes, I'm lying on the cold concrete floor, Bobby crouched beside me, and the anxious intern—Molly?—fretting behind him. Bobby's face is a mix of concern and frustration.
"You okay?" he asks, brushing hair from my face. "You scared the hell out of us."
I blink, trying to shake the fog from my head. My wrist burns, the angry red line already blistering. Slowly sitting up, I give the dizziness a moment to settle down before even thinking about making a move to get up.
"I'm fine," I say, rubbing at the back of my neck, feeling my cheeks warm with embarrassment. "I've been having trouble sleeping, and I just think it's catching up to me."
"You're going to the doctor," Bobby says, his tone brooking no argument.
"Bobby," I mutter, my voice coming out as a whine. "I'm fine."
"You passed out in front of a furnace," he snaps, his eyes narrowing. "Your wrist is burnt, and if you'd fallen in the wrong direction, it could have been much worse. You're not fine, Suzie. Get your stuff. I'm driving you."
I want to argue, to tell him I don't need a doctor, or someone to baby me, but the look on his face makes it clear it's pointless. He's already pulling me to my feet, steadying me when I stumble.
On the drive to the clinic, he peppers me with questions about what I've eaten during the day—barely anything, thanks to a very unwelcome stomach bug I've been trying to ignore—and what's keeping me from sleeping. I refuse to answer the last question, not willing to get into anything that personal with my new supervisor. He's already frowning so hard, I'm worried about doing permanent damage to his facial expressions.
After making me promise to text him with an update when I was done, he leaves me at the clinic.
It smells like antiseptic and sadness. Thankfully, I don't have to wait too long before a nurse takes me to a small curtained-off area where she wraps a blood pressure cuff around my arm.
"I'll be taking some blood and urine samples, just to be safe and then the doc will be by to examine you, okay hon?"
Nodding at the elderly nurse, I zone out as she first dresses my burn and then does what she needs to. When she hands me a plastic cup to use, I shuffle to the restroom on autopilot and hand her the sample, my brain still in the same fog.
I feel stupid, small, and insignificant, sitting there on the paper-covered exam table, waiting for the doctor to come see me. I'm just wasting their time. All I need to do is get some sleep and eat something more substantial than a slice of toast.
"Suzie?"
A young female calls my name, breaking into my turmoiled thoughts.
I nod in response and she smiles at me, tentatively.
"I don't have your bloodwork back yet, that will take a few days, but I think I've found the reason for your exhaustion and other symptoms."
Confusion makes its way through my system. There's actually something wrong with me?
"Yeah?" I ask, trying to figure out what it could possibly be.
"You're pregnant. It's very early, still."
No.
Just no.
My brain does the math. And when I don't like the results, I pull out my phone, completely ignoring the kind, young doctor standing in front of me. With trembling fingers I scroll through it, looking for the app I use to track my cycle.
Fuck. My. Life.
I'm late. More than two weeks already. But with all the upheaval and change, I didn't even notice the time go by.
I'm pregnant.
The words hit me like a large wave. My mind blanks. The poor doctor is telling me something, but I can't bring myself to focus on her. There's something about vitamins, rest, and follow-up appointments, but all I can manage is a nod to her as I take a pamphlet from her and stumble out of the clinic.
There's a cab waiting right outside the door, and I climb in.
"I'm waiting for someone, miss," the driver says to me, but silences when he turns around in his seat to look at me.
How bad must I look? I'm guessing pretty fucking bad because instead of making me get out of the car, he starts the meter.
"Where we going, miss?"
How in the hell did this happen? I'm on birth control. Have been for ages. I've never missed a shot, and my next one wasn't due for two more months.
By the time we pull up to my apartment building, the shock has worn off slightly. I send a quick text to Bobby, letting him know I'm at home, and the doctor gave me the all clear. I mean, it’s not a complete lie.
My hand drifts to my stomach without thinking. There's nothing to feel yet—no bump, no change. But there's still something in there. Someone.
There isn't even a question of whether or not I'm keeping it. I've always wanted to be a mom. It's one of my biggest dreams.
So what if it doesn't quite look like I'd always pictured it?
As I stand there, on the sidewalk, staring down at my still-flat stomach, a sense of calm fills me. I can do this. I'm going to do this. And I'll be the best damn mom this baby could ever have.
There might be some details that I need to figure out, but at the end of the day, I know I'll have the support of my parents, my brother, and my best friend.
Will I be able to keep a secret from Pete and Dexter?
Should I?
Fucking hell.
I pull out my phone as I make my way up the steps to my floor, dialing Annie's number. She'll know what to do.
"Suzie!" Annie answers after the first ring. "I'm so glad you called, there's something I have to tell you, but Lo and Monte made me promise not to say anything until you phoned me!"
"Annie, babe. Not now. I need you to listen," I interrupt her babbling. "I have?—"
"No, you don't understand!" Annie cries out, sounding worried. "Are you at work or home?" she asks before mumbling to herself. "Why the fuck I promised anything this important, I don't know."
"I'm just getting home now," I bite out impatiently, annoyed at being interrupted. "Why?"
But she doesn't need to answer. I know why. Because as I step onto the landing I see them.
Pete and Dexter. Waiting in front of my door.