Now alcohol, that’s an entirely different poll.
We trudge back to the office in silence. Dex chewing bites of his muffin and me lost in my own head.
Julia’s seat is empty and her purse is gone. I’m pleasantly happy and yet sad at the same time. I wish she was a good friend. I kind of need one right now to talk about things to.
I’m opening my work-in-progress when another twinge coils low in my stomach. This one is a little sharper than before. It’s such a weird feeling, I break out into a cold sweat.
I roll away from my desk as a sudden wave of nausea rolls through me. I don’t want to be sick all over my computer. After a few moments, the feeling subsides, and I walk to the kitchen area and dig in the cabinets for a box of crackers I know I saw here before I left for London. As soon as I eat a handful, I feel a thousand times better.
This happens every thirty minutes for the next three hours.
“You look horrible? Did Dickosaurus Dex dump you?” Gail bleats into my cubicle.
“What? No?” I stammer.
“Are you pregnant?” she asks, folding her hands over the top of the divider.
“No,” I growl.
“Go home. You look like the trash I took out last Tuesday.” She bends forward and whispers into my face, “Get a pregnancy test on the way home.” Her breath reeks of mint and tuna. It makes my eyes water.
“I’m not pregnant,” I growl louder. “And I have the tampon to prove it.” I stand up, because now my head is pounding and the sharp pains are back. “If you can just give me a hand and—”
“Point taken, Jane.” She breathes in deeply through her little bird beak and saunters off to her next victim. It’s Ritchie the Intern, who she is holding up by his tie.
I grab my bag and shut my computer down. Gail is right about one thing; I need to go home because I really feel awful. I don’t even bother Dex, I’ll send him a text when I’m in a cab. He’s preoccupied with taking video of Gail carrying Ritchie around by his collar.
I wait by the elevator for a lifetime.
Well, until Nate comes to stand next to me and presses the down button. “You forgot to press the button.” He cocks his head to the side. “You look green. Are you sick?”
I nod. That’s all I have the energy to do. The elevator doors open.
Nate presses his palm to my forehead and winces. “Oh, yeah. You feel hot.”
I nod again and step on the elevator. Nate leans in and presses the ground floor button for me. That was sweet. Honestly, if he didn’t do that, there’s a good chance I would have just stood there feeling awful and not even realized.
“Hey,” he says stepping all the way in. “How about I make sure you get all the way down and I’ll hail you a cab?”
I nod again.
I must have a little virus. Or the coffee was bad.
“Are you—”
“Do not ask me if I’m pregnant. I’m not,” I snap.
His eyes widen. “Okay, then.”
Outside, he waves for a cab and helps me climb inside. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know the driver is shouting at me to get the hell out of his taxi. “Are you high? Get out!”
“Alright, Jesus. I’m just tired.” What a douche. Me? High? “Hey, you never know, I could be an expecting mother, exhausted from a long day! What do you say to that?”
“I still say get out of my cab!”
I slam the door on him and stomp up to my apartment building. The cat nap must have helped me a little because the stomach pains are less and my head feel a little clearer. Maybe that’s all I need, some sleep.
I open my apartment door and flick on the light and yelp out a scream. Simon and Julia are on my couch. She’s sitting upside down, her legs spread eagle, her feet touching the wall. Simon is thrusting into her face, which hangs off the edge of the cushion, like a jack hammer, while his arm is completely inserted into her nether region up to the elbow. I’ve never seen such a painful-looking sexual position.
