Chapter 4
‘ H ow many weeks?’ Jenny asked, clapping as I emerged from the toilet cubicle. Her massive turquoise eyes sparkled with excitement. She had her short latte-coloured hair styled in what my sister called a ‘mum’s haircut’: a chin-length low-maintenance bob. Her frame wasn’t particularly large, but some excess weight floated around her waist and hips. She always dressed more casually than smart, wearing jeans and floral tops. Today was blue hibiscus day with a pale-yellow background.
‘I’m not pregnant. It’s something I’ve eaten,’ I said, standing beside her to wash my hands and lips.
She pulled her eyebrows towards the bridge of her button nose. ‘Four days in a row?’
Unfortunately, I had nothing to reply to that. Great – now there might be another rumour about me circulating at work soon . Knowing Jenny, I might as well have plastered it around the office and out on site, right next to the health and safety notices, that I was pregnant.
I wished she hadn’t needed the toilet every time I’d been sick in the past few days. But it was Sod’s Law that she always had to be in the bathroom while I was busy emptying my stomach. Why couldn’t she assume I was bulimic? I’d rather live with that. But as a mother of four, it must have been her natural instinct to conclude someone was pregnant upon hearing them throwing up at 9 a.m.
‘Morning sickness’ was what my sister (and apparently the rest of the world) called it. The last time I spoke to Isabel, she hadn’t been looking forward to going through it again .
At Christmas dinner, my sister and her husband had announced they were expecting baby number two. With baby number one, she’d suffered from nausea all day long in the first trimester – the time of day didn’t matter. Hence, the term ‘morning sickness’ was misleading. All I could hope was that I’d never experience it.
Jenny left, but I stayed behind for a minute. I still felt queasy as I held on to the sink, watching my reflection in the mirror. My face was paler than usual.
To ease the symptoms, I grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen before heading back to my office.
Upstairs was almost empty, with only Jenny and Ritha at their desks.
I sat behind my computer and glanced at David. He was busy typing, his eyes fixed on the screen, so I decided against initiating a conversation, though currently no one in the open-plan office was positioned in a way that they could have observed our activities.
Moving my mouse to the bottom-right corner of the screen, I brought up the calendar. It was the first week of February. I quickly counted down the weeks and days since my last period. Seven weeks and two days . This didn’t make sense because I’d remained on the pill to regulate my period and lessen the pain.
I used to carry a condom around, but I’d given it up a year ago because I didn’t need the extra protection against falling pregnant. My sex life had become non-existent ever since I’d stopped seeing Gerald, Edward’s business partner, whom Isabel had tried to set me up with. He wasn’t bad-looking or boring, so we’d slept together a few times. However, neither of us had ever thought it was going to be a long-term or even a remotely romantic relationship. In the end, we stopped meeting up altogether when both of us had started to come up with the excuse of being busy with work too often.
Naturally, my sister found it unimaginable that there could be regular sex sessions between two people without a deep emotional connection. She was a hopeless romantic. If I didn’t know her better, I’d have thought she’d saved herself for her and Edward’s wedding night. But I knew she’d had a few other boyfriends before him, and every time, she’d tried to convince me how she’d met her true soulmate. Of course I always found this pitiful and a joke, but like any good sister, I’d just encourage her in her false beliefs.
Staring at my calendar, I realised with deep resentment Jenny may have been right. I rarely missed my period, but what shocked me more was how I’d missed missing my period.
Since returning to work a month ago, I’d been non-stop, sending out new tender invites to the supply chain, drafting subcontracts, and negotiating rates. The extra work our client had given us before the Christmas shutdown had meant a hectic start to the new year for me and my team.
My eyes were still glued to the bottom of my screen when David spoke.
‘Finally, it’s done,’ he said, sounding satisfied and relieved. ‘Would you mind having a quick read-through and adding your bit in the commercial section before I submit it? I’ll email it to you now.’
It took me a second to realise David must have been referring to the project report we had to write each month for internal record-keeping.
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘Are you okay?’
I forced a smile. ‘Yes, of course.’
He was like me, able to detect the most insignificant changes in anyone’s mood, and my delayed reaction to his exclamation must have raised a red flag.
After scanning through the document, I provided him with a couple of proposals on what he should adjust and asked him to perform the same checks on my notes.
We worked together like a well-oiled machine. Most times, I could even predict his observations on my input, but I’d already prepared my answers long before he verbalised them and vice versa. It was like a game, and it felt like we only discussed things aloud just to listen to each other’s voices .
After sending off the report and drafting a subcontract order for a new roofing company, I felt exhausted and unable to focus. My breakfast was no longer in my stomach, and to keep up my energy, I had to refuel. I decided to grab my sandwich from the fridge downstairs. It was almost lunchtime anyway.
When I entered the staff room, Adam was there making a drink. He seemed miserable again.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, feeling compelled to feign interest.
‘I hear congratulations are in order,’ he said, not even looking at me.
I let out a tired sigh. ‘I haven’t done a test yet.’
‘Well, Jenny seemed pretty convinced… and if you are, I wish you all the best. I hope the father will be happy.’
It always amazed me when highly qualified people couldn’t put two and two together.
‘That would be you,’ I pointed out.
The spoon he was stirring the tea with stopped in his hand. He slowly turned towards me, staring at me, perplexed, until he finally found his voice. ‘That’s impossible,’ he said.
‘I wish it were.’
He laughed nervously. ‘Surely you can’t think it’s mine? You… We —’
‘No protection is a hundred per cent safe. So if I’m pregnant, then the child is yours. Who else’s would it be?’
Now I was getting angry. I’d been proved right – he wasn’t to be trusted or relied upon.
Adam tossed the spoon in the sink and sat on the red leather sofa in the corner with his mug, the wheels in his head visibly hard at work. I assumed he had no intention of washing up the spoon or putting it in the dishwasher, which annoyed me even further. Why can’t people clean up after themselves?
I stepped to the sink, rinsed the spoon, and left it on the side to dry.
After helping myself to a glass of water, I went outside to get some fresh air and to let him process the unexpected information. We both needed a short break .
When I returned, Adam was still on the sofa, alone in the room. As the fire door shut behind me, he looked up, seemingly more composed now. ‘So what now?’
‘First, I need to take a test,’ I said, glad that the conversation had started to take a more mature direction. ‘Though it’s been more than seven weeks since my last period… But please don’t freak out just yet.’
‘Why would I freak out?’ he asked so calmly that it made me uncomfortable and irritated. A few minutes earlier, Adam had found it extraordinary that he could be responsible for my potential impregnation, but now he was talking as if he had complete control over the situation.
‘Because there’s a great chance that you’re going to be a father?’ I assumed he may have just suffered a shock and was still unable to comprehend the magnitude of the issue at hand.
‘How would freaking out change that?’
‘Never mind,’ I told him. ‘I just thought you were the type… That you’d have more of an emotional reaction to this . But I wasn’t going to say anything until I’ve tested positi—’
‘Are you freaking out?’ he asked, studying my face.
‘No, of course not,’ I replied quickly. Perhaps too quickly. ‘The company has a great maternity package, and I’m sure I can find help with childcare. Obviously, I never imagined being a single mother, but worse things happen.’
‘What about me? What about us?’
‘There’s no “us”.’
‘But you’re saying I’m the father…’
‘I don’t expect you to pay for anything, and we can discuss visitation once the baby is born – provided there is a baby of course.’
‘“Visitation”?’
‘Yes, fortnightly or so I was thinking.’
‘It’s not a business deal we’re discussing,’ he cried. ‘It’s a child – my child; our child.’
His voice started to fill with excitement. I didn’t like that. I also didn’t like having this conversation in the staff room when someone could walk in on us at any minute .
‘Then what is it you want?’ I asked.
‘I want an equal share.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘I’m thinking we should get married.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ His childish leaps made it even more difficult for me to take him seriously.
‘This kid can have a real family,’ he went on. ‘You don’t have to do it on your own. I want to be part of his life.’
‘Or her life… but no,’ I said. ‘I’m not marrying you.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t even know you.’
His lips curled up at both ends. ‘How can you say that?’ he asked, and the playboy appeared in that smile again. ‘We spent an unforgettable night together.’
‘That I don’t remember at all—’
‘Why don’t you give us a chance?’ he pleaded, faking boyish innocence again. ‘I’ll give you some time to think it over… So what happens next?’
‘There’s nothing to think over,’ I said. ‘And what happens next is that in seven or eight months, a little human being might be arriving. But first things first, I need to take a test.’
‘I think I can still remember that from biology class, but thank you for the lecture.’ He jumped up from the sofa and rubbed his hands together. ‘Okay, let’s do it then.’
‘Do what?’
‘Let’s get you a test. We can do it now. I’ll drive you to a pharmacy, and you can pick one up. Or I’ll just go and get you one myself since you’re always so busy.’
I raised a hand and said, ‘Whoa. Slow down. I’m the one going; there is no “we”.’
‘Then why did you tell me about the baby? I want to be part of everything.’
‘Actually, it wasn’t me but Jenny who told you about it. I just reminded you that if I’m pregnant, then you’re the father. But I want to make it clear you’re under no obligation whatsoever to do anything for this child. ’
‘But what if I want to?’ he asked. ‘You can’t decide that for me. And if you’re around seven weeks, you’ll have to think about booking your first appointment.’
‘What appointment?’
‘With a midwife.’
I gave him an astonished look. ‘How do you know about these things?’
‘I have three sisters.’
‘And?’
‘Four nieces and two nephews.’
‘Can we just get this test done first?’ I asked, feeling exhausted from this conversation already. ‘I’ll go and get one, and we’ll do it here after work so that you can see the result for yourself. Happy with that?’
Adam slowly nodded, and then his jeans pocket started vibrating, his custom ringtone – The A-Team theme song – growing gradually louder. ‘Sorry, I gotta take this,’ he said.
After answering his work phone, he listened intently for a while. From his replies, I deduced he was trying to calm a resident who was upset about an operative who hadn’t turned up as arranged. He promised to look into it straight away, sounding so honest and caring that he even convinced me he’d do his best to resolve the situation ASAP.
When Jenny and some other colleagues came downstairs to have their lunches, I realised I was still eavesdropping on his phone call. Prying on someone wasn’t a habit of mine, so I darted to the fridge to finally retrieve my sandwich. But I didn’t feel like eating. Still nauseous, I decided to leave it there and have it later. Instead, I spent my lunch break picking out a pregnancy test at a pharmacy I’d deemed far enough from our offices and sites that I wouldn’t bump into anyone from work.
I hadn’t realised how many different types existed. Yet they were all supposed to do the same job. Like condoms. I wondered if anyone could tell the difference between the experience of using a super-rugged one and an extra-natural-feel one. I’d always thought the intensity of the pleasure depended on the skills of the human participants and not a latex accessory. But who was I to judge with my zero-level sex life? And if I were indeed pregnant, my sex life would remain on that level for a lot longer, perhaps for years to come – it shocked me that this scared me more than the possibility of being pregnant.
I picked out the cheapest test but not before I’d double-checked online that it was considered just as reliable as the more expensive brands. Actually, I grabbed three. I was planning to triple-check the result to mitigate any errors in the readings.
Back at work, it seemed to take an eternity for the digital clock on my laptop to display 5 p.m. Once everyone had left – everyone except for Adam – I went to the ladies’ room to pee on those sticks. It seemed so ridiculous that a tiny pink line would determine my future. I completed all three tests just in case. The wait was agonising, but at least the result wouldn’t be in doubt.
When I came out of the bathroom, Adam had been pacing the lobby. Not in an anxious way, more like an I don’t know what to do with myself way. But he did come across as the impatient type, and I half expected him to blurt out a ‘What took you so long?’
The loud bang of the bathroom door shutting behind me drew his attention, and he stopped and looked at me questioningly. I wondered if I should torture him for a few more days, but instead, I just shook my head before he ran off to a jewellery store and showed up with a diamond ring tomorrow.
‘You alright?’ he asked, sounding somewhat deflated but relieved at the same time. He seemed different from the responsible father figure he’d been trying to pass as a few hours ago.
‘Yes, I guess it’s good news. My period must just be messed up then.’
As soon as I said that, the familiar cramping feeling sprang up at the bottom of my abdomen, signalling the start of a few painful days. Stress had never gotten to me before, but maybe my body wasn’t coping well with the pressure anymore. These past few weeks alone had indeed been more demanding than the previous twelve months put together .
‘You don’t look happy though,’ he noted.
‘I am – I just got my life back.’ I tried to smile but felt too drained to do so; I never liked to dwell on what-ifs.
‘Would you like to go for a walk or have a drink somewhere?’
‘I’m fine,’ I repeated, trying to sound casual. ‘I just need to get back to my office.’
‘To your office ?’
‘Yes, I have to issue some more tender invites. We still don’t have a new scaffolder for the roofing works.’ The current subcontractor was meant to be a temporary solution only as they had already committed to serving a much bigger contract starting in March, requiring all their labour force. However, they’d agreed to help us out for the first few months until we found a replacement. ‘If we don’t get one quickly, you won’t have any works to look after soon,’ I added for emphasis, but he must have realised this.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Adam asked, looking genuinely concerned – I still couldn’t decide whether he was bipolar or simply a good actor. ‘You should go home. It’s already half past five,’ he added.
‘I’m honestly fine. I’ve got a lot of work to do.’
‘You shouldn’t stay here on your own. It’s not safe…’
I sensed he was going to add ‘for a woman’, but he stopped himself.
‘I’ll be okay; I can take care of myself. I’ve done it hundreds of times. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll lock the front door once you’re gone.’
He hesitated for a minute but eventually left the building.
As for me, before heading upstairs, I went back to the ladies’ room to double-check I’d left the plastic sticks with the single pink line facing up on the side of the sink. I hoped rumours would soon start circulating about the negative result. (If this was left up to Jenny and the cleaner, they surely would.)
Walking back to my desk, I felt a great sense of loss. I convinced myself it wasn’t the potential family I was mourning over but the time Adam and I had wasted talking about a future that was never meant to be. If I hadn’t been busy doing those silly pregnancy tests, I could have already sent out more tender invitations and been on my way home.