Janie

I’m in my office ignoring the discomfort that now hovers in my stomach. Who knew being pregnant was so much like having chronic acid reflux? Not me, that’s who. Checking and rechecking the ledgers, there’s five hundred dollars missing and I desperately hope that Gloria is stealing from me, because that would be the only good icing on my towering shit cake. It doesn’t look like it, though, dammit — I missed an order last week because I handed it off to Chester.

He told me, and I even made a note about it in my phone. So why didn’t I enter it? Because I’m currently losing my goddamn mind, that’s why. On the up side, I have the most perfect skin I’ve had in my entire life.

My eyes wander across the desk for a moment, taking a break from the computer screen, and settle on the test results from the hospital. “You’re going to have one hell of a story, kid,” I mutter. “Maybe I’ll make up something. Somehow I think the truth would just piss you off. It would piss me off. Hell, it’s already pissing me off.”

The baby is the size of a raisin or something; she, or he, can’t hear me. But I’ve been doing that lately. I’m determined that this is going to be the snarkiest baby ever to walk the world, and right now I have sarcasm and nihilism in spades.

There’s a knock at the door to the office that makes me nearly jump out of my skin.

It’s Gloria. She looks like she just spotted the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, and she isn’t looking at me. “Oh, my…”

Clearing my throat, I stand up and snatch the test results off the desk, stuffing the papers into my purse. “I’ve got to go out,” I tell her. “Chester’s in charge, you need to — ”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Gloria says, more gleefully manic than I’ve seen her basically ever. “This is too good. You don’t get to just brush this one off, Janie. Holy shit. You’re fucking pregnant?”

Hearing it from someone else’s lips shocks me, even though it isn’t exactly news. Hearing it from Gloria’s lips is potentially enough to make me miscarry. Can unbridled rage cause a woman to lose a baby? I suspect I’ll find out if I spend enough time around this woman.

“I don’t have time for this, Gloria,” I tell her. “We’ve got the last sauce debuting tonight and I need the place spotless, so you — ”

“Uh, no.” Gloria folds her arms over her chest, looking smugly sinister. “We absolutely need to talk. Who’s is it? Let me guess: Jake Ferry. Funny I haven’t seen anything on Facebook about it… oooh.” Her eyes widen even more, if that’s possible. “Nobody knows.”

Much as I try to keep a straight, flat face with no affect or emotion at all, Gloria has this freakish instinct for gossip. Her hand goes to her mouth. “Jackpot,” she breathes. “He doesn’t know. Holy. Fuck. Janie!”

Threats are on my lips, clawing to get out. But that will only set her off, and being defensive will just confirm everything she’s thinking.

“If I had just slightly fewer scruples,” she says to my silence, “I would totally cash in on this. Wonder what Reginald Ferry would pay me for a tidbit like this? Probably a lot. What’s a few hundred thousand for him? I bet he’s got that in his couch cushions. Have you thought about that? I bet you could make a killing.”

“I don’t care about Ferry money,” I tell her. “I don’t need to ‘cash in.’ I’ve got my own money that I worked for and earned on my own merits instead of spending my life hunting down someone who could give it to me. Get out of my way.”

Gloria’s eyes narrow, her lips parted slightly with the offense she’s taken from my not-so-subtle comment. I have to stifle a groan. Just the thing I didn’t want to do. Set her off.

Her jaw twitches, and she steps out of the way.

As I walk past her, though, she has a final word. “We’ll talk later. Count on it.”

Seriously, they probably wouldn’t even look for the body.

Mama gives me a strange look when I visit to drop off her meds — sure enough, George texted me about picking them up because he was “busy” — and I find myself attempting to make a hasty exit.

“I had a strange dream the other night,” she says before I can escape.

“Oh?” I wonder. The look in her eyes tells me everything I need to know about what she’s thinking, but I feign ignorance anyway. “What about?”

“I was on the beach,” she says, her eyes going distant. “The beach where your father and I… anyway, there was a storm way out over the ocean, but there was no wind. And out of nowhere, these fish start leaping out of the ocean and onto the beach around me. Isn’t that funny?”

“That’s… funny all right. I’ve got to go, Mama.” I kiss her on the forehead.

“Did I ever tell you that before I even knew I was pregnant with you, I had a dream a lot like that? They say dreaming of fish is a signal of a pregnancy close to you…” She looks like she’s a combination of worried and near-ecstatic. And then her eyes drop to my belly.

“Uh… well, you know I don’t believe in that sort of thing, Mama.” It’s all I can think to say to throw her off my scent. But the truth is, Mama’s had some accurate dreams before. Who knows what actually causes them — I refuse to believe it’s some supernatural gift of prophecy — but once she’s got her mind set on something because of them they usually self-fulfill.

In this case, though? I’d rather not think about it.

“You can talk to me, Janie,” she says quietly. “You know that, right?”

“What? Mama,” I sigh, and take her hand. “Of course I know that. But I have to go. Lots to do. Are… you and George coming to the lounge for the launch party?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she assures me. “You know George doesn’t really like to go out, but I’ll be there, I promise.”

George doesn’t like spending money would be more accurate, and doesn’t like being seen in public with my mother. Never mind they’d never have to pay for a thing in my place. “We’ll go shopping before that,” I tell her. “Get you something sexy to wear, how’s that?”

Mama laughs, and that suspicion in her eyes is finally replaced with scandalized humor. “Oh, now… I don’t know about all that. I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you too, Mama.” With that, I’m finally out the door. Spooked, sure, but I’m at least reasonably certain my secret is still intact.

Not forever, though. In the mornings, I make a habit of checking the mirror to see if I’m showing. Day to day, I can’t really tell — probably the change is too gradual to track that way. Which is why I took a picture shortly after I had it confirmed and, like it or not, I look different.

Maybe Mama didn’t even have a dream. Maybe she’s just trying to find a way to get me to admit it. I feel awful for hiding it from her, but she would tell George and the boys, and they’d be all over it. Especially George — I’d never hear the end of how I got knocked up out of wedlock, never mind the fact that George has been married three times.

I have another checkup with Annie, so I head into town, keeping a wary eye out for any sign of Jake. Avoiding him is getting to be ridiculous. After having spotted him going into Ferry Lights a couple of times and even staying late at Red Hall to make sure he left before I did, I’ve started seeing him everywhere. I’m not even sure it’s him half the time, but I’ve left a nearly full cart of groceries at the store just because I thought I saw him walk into the aisle next to the one I was in.

Now, I expect him to pop out from behind any given corner, or show up at Red Hall, and the worst part is that I find myself hoping he will every time I stare at the slight bulge of my tummy.

What makes me more messed up? That I almost want him to know so that maybe we can work things out, even after he tricked his way into my pants? Or that I worry about the media shit-storm that would fall on my head if it got out? It’s a toss-up.

Mama dreamed about a storm, too. Who knows, maybe she really is a prophet.

As usual, being out in public makes me flustered and nervous. Any day now I’ll be heading outside with a shawl over my head and oversized sunglasses hiding my face like a fugitive. Annie gives me a sympathetic smile when she sees me.

“Let’s get you on the table,” she says. “Let me give you a lavender belly massage. It’ll help you both relax.”

“I know you probably believe in prophetic dreams,” I tell her, once I’m lying down on my back and I’ve gotten her caught up on recent events. “But it’s still kind of crazy, right?”

“Mother’s intuition, if you ask me,” Annie says. “How’s that?”

A mental check of my current state tells me that whatever other holistic bullshit Annie does, there really is something to the idea of a belly massage — whether the lavender helps or not. “I don’t know about Mama,” I tell her, “but you’ve got some kind of magic, for sure. Much better.”

“Good,” Annie says. “It’s not good for either of you to be stressed like this. If you’re going to stay uptight, maybe I should see you a little more often. I can get you in three times a week, if you don’t mind a kind of weird schedule.”

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble,” I tell her. Three times a week is almost three grand for Annie. Over nine months? She’d be losing more money than I can possibly ask her to give up.

“It’s no trouble,” she insists. “Let me put you on the books. Just promise me you’ll follow the schedule. I’ll lay it all out through your due date and push it to your calendar.”

I sigh. Am I a charity case? I suppose I must be. “You’re too good to me, Annie. I don’t deserve it.”

“If not for you, I wouldn’t be where I am,” she tells me. There’s a pause after that.

I know what’s coming.

“It’s your decision,” she starts out, “and you know I support you no matter what, but… have you been in touch with Jake?”

“I have been the opposite of in touch,” I admit. “It’s insane, Annie... it has to be the hormones. I see him everywhere. Everywhere, Annie. I was in the bathroom the other day at the gym” — she gives me an approving nod, because the gym was her idea — “and I couldn’t hear the person in the stall next to me, and could not shake the idea that it was Jake, that he’d somehow followed me in and was waiting for me to come out so he could confront me about the baby.”

Annie bites her lip. She looks concerned, and with a sigh she tells me why. “Hon, I have to be honest with you.”

“Please do,” I sigh. It’s not like Annie has the ability to not say what she’s thinking, even if she does have infinitely better tact than I do.

“Paranoia? High stress? Irrational fears? Does that sound familiar?” She says it gently enough, but it still sends a shiver down my spine.

“Shit,” I breathe. “I didn’t even…”

The story about the gym? Seeing Jake in the grocery store even though I know damn well that man doesn’t buy his own goddamn groceries…

Those are the sorts of things my mother might say; the kinds of irrational things she’d call me about to come and dispel.

“You just need to manage your stress, Janie,” Annie says, one hand on my bare belly. “So come see me, three days a week. An hour at a time. Keep going to the gym, and…”

She doesn’t finish, but I know what she wants to say.

Tell Jake.

“I can’t, Annie,” I whisper. “Not after what he did.”

“It won’t stay a secret forever, hon,” Annie tells me. “Just make sure it comes out on your terms, or it’ll be more trouble. Either way — I’m here.”

“Thank you for that,” I say. “You’re the only ally I feel like I’ve got right now.”

“An even better reason to tell him.”

For all her gentleness, I can see in her eyes what she thinks.

Maybe because I keep looking at myself in the mirror with the same expression.