Chapter 14 #2
“It’s that time of the month,” I panted out.
“Oh. Understood. Is there anything I can do?”
“No, no. I’ll be okay once my painkillers kick in.” Another spasm, another groan. “Taking their sweet time though.”
The knees-pressed-to-my-chest trick wasn’t working so I added a rocking movement, anything to distract from the pain. It was manageable an hour ago but now I didn’t know what to do with myself.
Jake watched me with increasing concern. “I don’t like this.”
“It’s fine. It’s normal. At least, normal for me.”
“This doesn’t look normal. You’re pale and sweaty, and groaning like you’re in labour.”
“I’m not groaning,” I said around another groan.
He gave me a pointed look.
“I make noises sometimes. I don’t know why it helps but it does. Usually.”
“Do you have a hot water bottle?” he asked, desperate now.
“Yeah, in the cupboard in the hall. I was gonna fill it, but I needed to lay down.”
“I’ll sort it. You get comfortable.” He gave me another worried once-over. “Or at least try.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be better soon.” I paused to take a few steadying breaths. “I should get ready for work.”
“You’re not going to work, Ellie. No way.”
“I have no choice.”
“You can’t even stand up right now. How can you do an eight-hour shift serving behind the bar?”
“Jake. I have. No. Choice.”
He swore under his breath. “What time do you have to be there?”
For a second, I couldn’t remember, all my brain space consumed by pain pain pain. “My shift starts at eleven so I have to leave by 10.30 at the latest. Martin will kill me if I’m late.”
“Martin’s a wanker. But let’s see if we can get you more comfortable by then.” Jake disappeared into the hallway, returning moments later with my pink fluffy hot water bottle. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”
If my insides weren’t being strangled, I would’ve swooned. “That’s sweet, but I’ll be fine.”
“I might believe you if you weren’t struggling to speak.”
“Sorry,” I half laughed, half whined. “I have polycystic ovary syndrome and the pain is really bad sometimes, especially on the first day. It should ease up in a while.”
“I think we have different definitions of really bad.” He frowned for a moment longer, then seemed to remember the hot water bottle in his hands.
“How do you like it? Do you prefer warm but not boiling, or as hot as the sun? If you’re anything like my sister, she likes to practically scold herself. ”
“I like a good scolding.”
He grinned. “Just as I thought.”
Another wave of pain rocked through me. After a series of calming breaths through my nose, I watched Jake fuss around in the kitchen, sending me worried glances while he waited for the kettle to boil.
His concern was so lovely and unexpected, I couldn’t help but smile, even though I didn’t feel like smiling.
“Right,” he said a few minutes later. “Here we go. Nice and scolding, as the lady requested.”
“Thank you.” I pressed the heat to my lower tummy, closing my eyes in soon-to-be-relief. “Seriously. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for doing the bare minimum, Ellie. Jesus. Has no one ever taken care of you before? Actually, don’t answer that. I think it’ll piss me off.”
“My mum used to take good care of me, but I didn’t really suffer this badly when she was alive.”
Jake was silent, then, “Sometimes you break my heart, you know that?”
“What?” There he was again, shocking me in the most unexpected of ways. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. Just—” He shook his head as if rattled or annoyed, at me or himself I had no clue.
“What else can I do to help you?” he carried on, brushing my hair back. “What are you craving?”
“Right now, nothing. I feel queasy. You’ve done more than enough already.”
A sharp, frustrated breath gushed out of him. “Ellie, I say this in the nicest way possible, but shut up. I want to help. What would you like to eat when you get home later? What are you desperate for? I know there’s something.”
I barely needed to think about it. “Bread.”
“Bread? Not chocolate or sweets?”
“Sometimes, but other times I want savoury things and all of the carbs, like an entire baguette. A crunchy one still warm from the oven with lashings of real butter. Maybe some cheese too.”
“That got specific.” Jake smiled, grabbed his keys. “When you get home later there will be whole fucking French bakery waiting for you. I promise.”
“Noooooo, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I think you deserve some enjoyment while you’re being murdered by your uterus, and if a baguette is gonna do that, you’re getting one. End of discussion.”
My eyes brimmed with tears. “That’s so sweet.”
“Ah hell.” He scrubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Don’t cry.”
“It’s my stupid hormones. Ignore me.”
“As if I could,” he mumbled, and left the room.
The worst thing about working shifts in pain was time crawling to a halt.
Minutes felt like hours, hours like days, and things I’d usually shrug off, felt insurmountable.
Martin’s snide remarks about bathroom breaks didn’t help, nor did Bertie trying to set me up with his grandson again and apparently no longer acknowledging the word no.
Nine hellish hours later, I arrived home desperate for a soak in the bath, my baggiest pyjamas and whatever carbs I could find, but those things would have to wait until after Noah went to bed.
I despised myself at the fleeting flare of annoyance. What kind of mother was annoyed that her own son took priority? Deep down I knew this was normal, that no parent was perfect, but it didn’t make me feel any less terrible.
When I found Jake and Noah setting the coffee table for dinner, the Mum Guilt worsened. It was so unexpected I hung back, watching them. Every so often Jake offered Noah something light to carry to the table, telling him to be careful.
The whole scene was so cute my insides fluttered. My messy hormones had me welling up too.
“This is a lot of food,” Noah said, slowly setting down a bowl.
“Your mum isn’t feeling great and sometimes comfort food helps you feel better.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Jake’s brow wrinkled, and I knew he was thinking of a way to explain it. I often wore the same expression. “What food do you love the most?”
“Pizza!”
“Do you remember how you feel when you get to eat pizza?”
“Happy.” Noah rubbed his belly, jumping foot to foot. “It’s all yummy in my tummy and makes me want to dance!”
“Well, that’s what comfort food does too.”
“So this will make my mummy happy?”
“I hope so.”
Noah spotted me hovering, oblivious to the tears in my eyes, and rushed into my arms.
“Hello you.” I squeezed him extra tight, an apology for my earlier thoughts. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yeah. I’m helping Jake. He said I could get two star stickers.”
“He did? Wow.”
“What can I say? I’m not above bribery.”
“Neither am I. That’s the whole point of the stickers.”
We shared another smile. The urge to fall into his arms, let him swallow me in a warm, welcoming hug was overwhelming.
I cleared my throat and looked away, busying my brain with other things. “So, what’s going on here?”
“Well, I promised you a whole French bakery so we’re having Cuisine à la Carbs tonight in front of the TV,” Jake announced as the oven timer beeped. “Perfect timing. Get comfy.”
“You—” I admired the feast he’d already laid out: mini sausage rolls, crackers and cheese, chutney, bacon and cheese-stuffed potato skins, all carb-loaded savoury foods I’d craved most of the day. “You didn’t have to do this. Can I do anything to help?”
“It’s all sorted.” He set down a bowl of steaming baguettes. “Sit down.”
I never thought the sight of some baguettes would make my heart skip, but here we are.
After settling on a Marvel movie to keep Noah occupied, the three of us sat on the floor eating and telling each other about our day.
My mum was the only person I ever told about my day usually. I didn’t see myself ever changing that ritual, but it was so nice to hear someone talk back.
“How are you feeling by the way?” Jake asked, buttering a piece of bread for Noah, something else that made me emotional. I didn’t expect him to do those kinds of things when I was home, yet here he was…
“I’m ready for more painkillers, but it’s manageable right now. Thanks for looking after me earlier, and for all of this.”
His smile softened. “Any time.”
“You’re good at taking care of people.”
“I have my moments.”
“You know what you’re not good at though?”
“A lot of things apparently,” he muttered at the same time I said, “Taking a compliment, which surprises me. That’s more my thing.”
“Why?”
“You’re so confident usually, but you turn a compliment into a joke like you can’t accept it. I don’t understand why.”
“I’m a complicated guy, Ellie.”
I laughed. “See.”
He stared at his plate, quiet now. “I don’t get many compliments, at least from people who count. I’m the black sheep of the family. The Epic Disaster, all caps.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“I’m living on your sofa. Surely that tells you everything.”
“All it tells me is you needed somewhere to stay for a while. Everyone needs help sometimes. Not sure how that makes you an epic disaster.”
“What am I then?”
“You’re a great friend.” Even though the voice in my head echoed that was a lie, and friend didn’t do justice to how he made me feel, how he made my son feel.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” I carried on, squeezing his hand, hoping the touch would make him believe it.
Jake’s expression melted, and my pulse soared. It was fleeting though, like he blinked and remembered he wasn’t a melty expression kind of guy, but my brain had already stored it away, another gift to open another day.
“Me too.”