“Thanks. I wanted to streamline it, but I didn’t want to get too fancy.”
“Oh, I appreciate it. I had one of those salesmen come in with their little scanners and tablets and a special computer designated just to inventory, and all of it tied into our register. No, thank you. My head was spinning before the presentation was fifteen minutes in.”
I knew from previous conversations that I was far from the first line of fire for getting this project done, but I was the only one who’d actually made anything happen. I felt pretty proud of that.
“I’m going to whip up something to eat. You want something?” he asked. One thing about working here, you never went hungry.
“No,” I said, but my stomach growled loudly, announcing me as the liar I was. “I mean, yes. Sounds good.”
He went into the kitchen where we made our sandwiches—and by we, I mean he. We also did some minimal baking, cookies and such, a lot of it from frozen. Nothing too fancy, but the pre-done food did make up a decent chunk of the business and, based on the numbers I’d been running, a decent part of the profit.
I caught myself mid-yawn. This was ridiculous.
“I gotta stay awake,” I mumbled to myself.
I went to grab a cup of coffee, but as I reached the pot, I didn’t want it. Instead, I wanted orange juice, something I’d never liked. It took me a while to figure out the right one. People liked pulp in theirs, but I didn’t like food in my drink. I eventually found the right one and guzzled it all the way down the second my co-worker had finished ringing it up. That felt better.
Sally, who was running the register today, offered to take the bottle from me. “I didn’t know you like this stuff.”
“Usually I don’t, but today I had to have it.”
“I get that way sometimes with chocolate milk. Why is it that when we have cravings, it’s always sweet?”
“I don’t know.”
One of our regulars came in, so I went to help them. Then I wandered out to the kitchen where I found Sampson putting the top on a bagel for each of us.
“I didn’t get creative.”
“That’s okay, I’m sure it’s delicious.” It smelled fabulous. When my teeth sank into it, the flavor exploded in my mouth. I chewed it, making little yummy sounds, loving it, but after the third bite, my stomach had had enough.
“It’s not you, Sampson,” I said and put it down and covered it with my napkin. “I’ll have this for lunch.”
“Not hungry?”
“That’s not it. I didn’t sleep right, and so my body’s being weird.”
“Is your body being weird because you didn’t sleep well, or is your not sleeping well part of your body being weird?”
“I don’t know. I guess a bit of both. I was just really tired from overworking, I think.”
“And what was weird about your sleep?”
“An abundance of dreams—wacky dreams.”
“Like?” What was with his twenty questions today?
“I mean, a polar bear with dragon wings circling our cabin. Like, what?”
“Come with me.” He took me by the wrist and led down the aisle where we had most of our health and beauty products. He reached for a pregnancy test, took it off the rack, and handed it to me. “Go home. You’re not working today.”
“What?”
“Go home, take this test, show your mate, and then celebrate.” He said it like it was clear as day and not the wildest thing a boss had ever asked me to do.
That was when it dawned on me. “You think I’m pregnant.”
“I don’t think you’re pregnant. I know you’re pregnant. That’s why your body’s trying to figure out if you’re having a cub or a dragon, and why you’re exhausted, and why you couldn’t even eat a whole bagel.”
