𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖 • 𝕞.𝕔

chapter 12

•••

   I woke up the next morning, with warm dew on my forehead. I had forgotten how utterly annoying and impossible it was to have a nice, cosy full night of sleep in the summer. I didn't love June; because of the heat, and how either extremely dry or humid the air could be.

I didn't want to move at first; I felt sweaty and disgusting. I was nervous about the fact that Michael could be awake already, watching me sleep. But when I turned my face to look to my right side, his eyes were still shut, eyelashes fluttering from a peaceful sleep.

   I couldn't even remember about the way I had fallen asleep yesterday. At first, I couldn't sleep at all; my mind was being tortured by all of those incessant questions (that had been left unanswered, still) but all of a sudden, it had been as if I had fallen into a deep slumber easily, effortlessly, even. 

I couldn't remember much about yesterday's conversation. All I knew was that I had felt... Different.

In a good way.

For the first time in a while, the resentment that had been building up between us was slowly melting away, leaving room for a different kind of relationship between Michael and I.

And that was what I had been hoping for. I felt guilty that I was putting all of this weight on Michael's shoulders, because he was still young, as I was, and I didn't know what he was capable of. I was still careful about it all, and I hope he understood why. I preferred to be cautious.

  I tried getting out of the bed silently, being as quiet as possible, not to wake him up.

   I made my way through the flat, trying to find the bathroom. I couldn't at first, and kept on opening doors to different rooms. When I finally found it, I sighed in relief, locked the door, and jumped in the shower. Under the warm water, my muscles relaxed, and I shut my eyes, appreciating the moment, because everything felt okay. I came to the sudden realisation that perhaps, things would sort themselves out in the end. I wanted everything to work out so badly. I didn't even care that Michael and I would never be in a relationship; we were too different, anyway. 

But now, there was this undeniable bond between the two of us, that had appeared despite our original intentions. I just wanted to welcome the baby in a peaceful environment, that was all. Life was hard enough, and the world was already an ugly place; this little soul didn't need anymore troubles on its shoulders as soon as it was born.

   When I was done, it took me a long time to make myself look acceptable. Since I'd been pregnant, I'd had the feeling that my face had gotten about ten times more tired, the bags under my eyes were getting difficult to conceal. I was so tired of overthinking, mostly, and I wished that it would go away soon. That was all I wanted.

  I got out of the bathroom only to find Michael in the living-room, in his pants. He jumped at the sight of me, and almost spit out his coffee. He hid behind the counter awkwardly.

"I thought you were already gone," he exclaimed, gathering back his thoughts together.

"No," I answered. "But, uh, I've got to get going now, anyway. Work is waiting for me."

"Have you told them about the pregnancy?" he asked, looking concerned.

"No, which... Which is why I'm really, really not looking forward to it. But it'll be fine. Hopefully. I'll call you. Or you call me. Whatever."

"I'll call you."

"No, I'll call you, actually. You'll forget."

"Well, I... Okay," he shook his head and chuckled.

   I skipped to him and hugged him tightly for a few seconds, before disappearing, taking the exit without saying a word, still feeling slightly sleepy, but most of all, relaxed and for once, secure. 

•••

   I sat in the cold corridor of the office, feeling fear creeping through my whole body. I was scared, of course, but it was understandable. I was so proud of this job, and I didn't wanted to let it go. I had worked too hard for this. I tried to reassure myself, tried to tell myself that everything would be okay. I mean, writing articles didn't require anything more than me being sat at my desk anyway, did it?

I could still do it at home, like I was used to. But something also was telling me that it all would be a lot more complicated than I hoped it would be.

   When the secretary called my name, I was called into my boss' office. He was a rather old man, maybe in his fifties, and he scared me. A lot.

"So, miss Mann," he motioned for me to sit down in front of him. "What is the matter?"

I had changed into large clothes, and he probably hadn't noticed my tummy, it wasn't that big yet, and it was still possible to conceal it. But I wanted them to know, or I would be accused of lying. And I wanted to avoid that. "I wanted to talk to you about an issue."

"Go ahead, then."

"I just learned that I am pregnant," the words came out rapidly, and he didn't react straight away, just adjusted his glasses on his big nose. "I wanted to let you and the rest of the team know. I am expecting, but it won't be affecting my work in any way."

"Yeah, I get what you're saying," he sounded insensitive. "I can't legally ask you to leave the society because of your pregnancy, or whatever is happening in your life right now, can I? That wouldn't be right."

"It wouldn't."

"But you understand that some people need this job as much as you do, some people who are more... Able to go on the actual scenes, who can travel more. I can't give you a pregnancy break quite yet, you just started working. It wouldn't be fair on everyone else."

"I know that I can still work. As I said, that won't be an issue regarding my writing."

"And I understand that. What I am saying is," he fumbled with the documents in front of him. "I might have to ask you to do secretary work for a while instead of focusing on the journalism part."

"This is not my job title," I retorted. "I was hired as a journalist. Not as a secretary. It is frankly unbelievable that you would give my job to somebody else just because of the fact that I'm expecting a child. This is illegal, and you're playing with fire here."

"You need us more than we need you, Miss Mann," he simply said. "If you're not happy with my proposition, you're more than welcome to leave."

"You need me more than I need any of you here," I stood up, grabbing my bag. "You will be hearing about me. I'm out. This is bullshit."

"I won't be seeing you tomorrow, then?" he got a hold of his phone.

"Fuck off," I seethed.

   I left the office, slamming the door. I knew my reaction was maybe immature, stupid, even, but I was angry. I was angry about the way he could fire someone so effortlessly, when I had done nothing wrong. Being pregnant wasn't something I had planned, shit. I hated everything right now, and as I left this stupid building, loathing started to fill my whole body. I wanted to go home, to cry over how shit my life was turning, and how stupid I had been.

I was scared that the feeling of guilt and hate towards myself I had learned to feel daily would never leave.

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