“Had that big estimate go out today for the new elementary school in Liberty.”
“When will you hear if you got it?”
“End of the week but I think I’ve got a pretty good chance. Talked to the Superintendent and even though he’s not the one deciding, the school board is, he said they want the job to stay with as many local contractors as they can. If I get it, it’ll really solidify the business.”
“You’ll get it. Your recommendations speak for themselves. Your customers love you and your work, your employees are incredible. I have faith.”
“Me, too, but I don’t want to assume anything, you know? It’d be great. Only downfall is that they want to get started immediately, which is fine for us, but considering they want to get the new one up and running for the next school year, we’ll all be working like fucking maniacs for the next several months to meet our deadline. It’s going to be a scramble if the weather doesn’t cooperate because we have no room for delays. That means your last few months I’ll be busy as shit. Don’t like that so much.”
“We can figure it out.”
“Yeah. We can.”
“I’m still surprised they’re just now looking for an electrical contractor. Don’t big jobs like that usually have all their contractors in place way in advance?”
“Usually, yes, but they didn’t plan well, apparently. The board wasn’t coming to an agreement on anything. I heard something about a big donor threatening to pull the money if they didn’t get their shit together. I have no idea if that’s true or if that’s just gossip but regardless, they finally got moving and now they’re scrambling. Sometimes a large construction company will be hired and they’ll contract out the rest, like electrical and plumbing and get approval. But the school wanted to be the one doing all the hiring. I think that’s also where some of the disconnect and delays are coming from. The board is trying to do something they don’t know much about.”
“Sounds stubborn to me.”
“Probably. But, they’re getting it done now. And it’s going to be a really nice building when it’s complete. It looks like a shitshow now, though.”
Him talking about a brand new elementary school makes me realize that our kid will be going to that same school one day. That’s pretty wild to think about.
“What went down at the dentist office today?”
“A lot of gross teeth that needed cleaned.”
I hear him gag and it makes me laugh. “Nasty. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Today I had to wonder, too.”
“Can’t blame you.”
We talk a bit more before saying good night and making a plan for Nik to pick me up for my appointment. Luckily, I have Wednesdays off and have been able to schedule appointments on my day off so I don’t have to take time off from work for them.
Getting ready for bed, I can’t help but lift my t-shirt and turn so my profile is facing the bedroom full-length mirror. I’m only twelve weeks along and I’m not showing yet. It doesn’t stop me from running my hand up and down over my stomach, examining my mid-section for any changes.
Then I push my stomach out, suck it in, push it out. Laugh at myself.
Push it out again and let my hand rest on my rounded stomach.
Not satisfied, I pull one of my little throw pillows off the bed and shove it under my shirt, moving and tucking the material so it looks a little more real.
“Huh,” I say to myself. “That’s not so bad.”
Of course it doesn’t look bad. It’s a tiny pillow stuffed under my shirt — not the basketball that will be there in a few months.
For good measure, and because now I’m having a little bit of fun, I dance around my bedroom, moving my stomach up and down and watching it in the mirror. I know it will look a lot different when it’s full with a baby and it makes me kind of excited to see.
I go on to try on different tops with the pillow underneath just because I’m curious what I’ll look like, ending with my scrubs. Since I wear navy blue scrubs every day to work, I’m curious what I’ll look like. Then I add another pillow, which stretches the material to the point that it’s tight.
“Yikes. This could be a problem.”
Just for the fun of it, I add another pillow for good measure. The third, though, is too much. I can’t even stuff it in.
“Welp. I’ll have to buy some new scrub tops,” I mumble. I’m sure some of my co-workers have some from when they were pregnant that I can either buy from them or borrow. It’s not that I am poor and have no extra funds to buy maternity clothes, but my parents raised me to save any areas where I can, and that includes shopping secondhand for certain items.
My phone rings just as I’m taking off my shirt and I look down to see Grace’s name lighting up my screen.
“Craaaap. I really don’t feel like dealing with her,” I complain but answer anyway.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey there. What are you up to?”
No way am I going to admit I was just making myself look pregnant when I’m already pregnant so I opt for a half-truth. “Just changing clothes and getting ready for bed. What about you?”
“Still at the office,” she says proudly.
“Yuck.”
Her desire to work eighteen hours a day in a stuffy office isn’t appealing to me and I don’t do anything to hide that. She’s not bothered, though. Lucy and I have always given her grief about being married to her desk chair. I don’t mind working, but the amount that she does, inside an office and staring at a screen, no less, is not for me.
“Kind of what I think about sticking my hands in someone else’s mouth.”
“Touché.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Good. Kind of felt a little blech this morning but I got through it fairly quickly. It wasn’t too bad.”
“Oh, that’s good. Mom said you have an appointment tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Regular checkup but I think we’ll be able to hear the heartbeat this time.”
“That should be fun,” she says in a voice that says she doesn’t think it sounds fun at all.
“We think so. Nik and I were talking tonight and he wants to get something set up with you and Lucy and the guys for dinner soon. It would be good for you to meet him.”
“Why?” she asks, her fingers tapping on her keyboard in the background.
“What do you mean, why? Because we’re having a baby together.”
“Yeah, but you aren’t together, together, so why does it matter? I don’t need to know him. Neither does Lucy. Mom said she and Dad met him already. Isn’t that enough?”
I sit down on the edge of my bed, wondering why she’s being this way and how to answer her. Technically, she’s right. We haven’t made it clear that we’re a couple but that’s just what I said, right? A technicality?
“He’s going to be around, Grace. He’s the father of this baby.”
She’s quiet for a bit then she makes a weird noise. “I know he is, but that doesn’t mean I have to get to know him. What would we have in common, anyway? Samuel certainly doesn’t need to be there. Can you imagine?” she scoffs. “Samuel shows up in a suit and tie to dinner with this guy and he’s wearing work boots and jeans?”