“No sir,” I answer quickly as my blood runs cold.
“You’re in my engineering class this semester, aren’t you?” He eyes me curiously. I begin to feel lightheaded as a pressure builds in my stomach. “I take it you haven’t been receiving any extra help from your wonderful boyfriend have you?”
“No, I haven’t sir,” I say, clearing my throat. “Jordan takes his job very seriously. He wouldn’t give me any extra help even if I asked.” I chuckle, trying to downplay the tension.
“Good. This is next week’s lecture I had him reviewing for me. I was worried at first, hiring him as my assistant.” I try to smile as I listen but the pressure in my stomach is building. I swallow hard, trying to clear the knot in my throat. “Not exactly because of him specifically, but because he’s a senior. It seems that he has a handle on this subject, though. He’s really good.”
“I’ve known Jordan all my life,” I say, rubbing my sweaty palms together. “He’s always looked up to you and the work you’ve done at Crill. Like I said, he takes his job very seriously and he enjoys learning from you.”
Satchi rolls his lips into his mouth, pressing them into a hard line as he nods. We go silent and I take it as a good moment to grab Jordan's laptop and leave. The second I turn away, my head spins and my stomach lurches.
“Have a good day, Miss Teller,” Satchi says. But I can’t answer. My mouth waters and an uncomfortable heat rolls through my body. I sway and a frown appears on his face as I run over to his trashcan, drop to my knees, and begin vomiting.
18
XIA
Loud blaring comes from my nightstand. I don’t want to get up. This damn virus has knocked me on my ass for the last three days. I need to shut off my alarm clock. When I first came back home I set it to wake me every morning at nine thirty for my Monday, Wednesday, Friday course with Satchi, and for the last three days it’s gone off on cue. Instead of deprogramming the alarm, I just slap it silent until it bothers me the next time. Stupid, I know. Unable to take it anymore, I reach my arm out of my cocoon and smack the top of my clock radio, silencing the thing before I bury myself back under my covers.
Settling back in the darkness, I close my eyes, but then I notice something’s different. My head isn’t hurting anymore. I freeze, afraid to move, as if moving again will remind my body that it has been trying to kill me this week. Quieting myself, I do an inner scan of how I’m feeling. Headache, gone. Chills, gone. Queasiness, less. I actually feel like I could get up without dying.
Cautiously, I pull the covers down and peek out at the room. My eyes fall on the bowl of soup and bouquet of flowers that Jordan placed on my nightstand. He’s been over here a lot, even before he was totally well. I begged him to stay away, telling him he needed the rest too, but he didn’t care. The second he learned I was sick he jumped in his car and came over. The first night he slept here, and we took turns retching our guts out in the bathroom. By the second night, I thought I’d convinced him to go home. He was starting to feel better and I didn't want to re-infect him. But he stayed anyway, got up this morning, and went home to shower before class.
The sound of footsteps walking down the hall captures my attention, I look over to my door wondering if Jordan came back. Sliding my feet from the bed, I stand on wobbly legs and move to the doorway. Just as I open it, I see my mother’s form disappearing back into her room. My heart sinks as I hear the familiar click of her lock. Sighing, I grab my phone from my nightstand. I’m halfway down the stairs when I notice a text from her.
Mom: Xia. Dad bought food.
Well, at least she’s talking now, somewhat. Unfortunately, she has no idea that I’ve been sick for the last three days and that just the thought of any food makes me want to hurl. In the living room, I pass Casper. who is laying on the couch. My throat is dry, so I head into the kitchen, grab a glass of water, and head back upstairs to bed.
A few hours later, I'm feeling good enough to shower. I take my time washing all the sweat and nastiness from my skin before trying a bite to eat. I don’t know how Jordan was able to stand me in this condition, but now I understand why he seemed so miserable. I wouldn’t wish this virus on my worst enemy.
With my strength steadily returning, I decide to go downstairs with Casper to watch TV. I’m still feeling remnants of weakness, but I’m a whole lot better. Casper stretches, his claws spreading as his back curls in the air.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, petting his head. “You want to move over?” He purrs, rubbing his body along my arm as I sit next to him. The sun bleeds through the curtains. I settle in on the couch and grab the remote.
“Are you ready to come back yet?” I whine, listening to the steady beeping of the cashier’s scanner through the receiver. Shana and I have spent the last two hours on the phone binging on The Bachelor and now she is at a liquor store prepping for some down time at the beach with a few friends.
“Yes,” she says. “But I still wish you’d come and visit Cali. I swear we’d have so much fun.”
“It’s definitely going to happen,” I say, smiling as I stretch my legs across the couch, laying my head on a pillow. “But not today, I feel like pure shit.”
Shana thanks the cashier and the distinctive crinkle of a paper bag bleeds over the receiver. “Yeah?” she says. “That bug still bothering you?”
“I think I’m on the other end of it, still a little weak, though.”
The rustling sound of her getting in her car is quickly followed by the slamming of a door and start of an engine. “Hold on,” she says. “I need to connect my Bluetooth.” Seconds later, her voice comes in a little louder and I pull the phone away from my ear, rolling to my side and adjusting my position on the couch.
“Okay,” she says. “It sucks you got sick.”
“I know. I finally stopped vomiting.” My eyes drift to my glass of water, causing my stomach to turn.
“Vomiting, huh? Sure you aren’t pregnant?” She laughs jokingly. I smile at first, ready to deny her jab, but as my thoughts clear, panic begins to rise in my chest. I sit up in my seat, flinging my feet to the floor, just barely missing the coffee table.
“Oh shit,” I say. “What day is it?”
Shana stops laughing and hesitates for a second before answering. “Umm… the seventeenth. Fuck, Xia. When was your last period?”
I snatch my phone away from my ear and pull up my calendar app as my pulse begins to race. My fingers shake as I scroll through the weeks, searching for the memo I always add on the first day of my cycle. My blood runs cold and a burning begins behind my eyes as I stare at the date.
“God. No,” I say, frozen in fear.
“Zee?” Shana calls. I didn’t put her on speaker so her voice sounds further away. Trembling, I bring the phone back to my ear as my throat goes dry.
“I can’t be. There’s no way,” I say.
“When was your period?” she asks in a serious tone. I hesitate as my vision clouds over.
“It was seven weeks ago.” Immediately, I begin counting backwards, trying to figure out a timeline for when Jordan and I got together. It was a few days after the anniversary of Lisa’s death that we went to the hotel. That was the weekend of the nineteenth, which was about a month ago. There’s no possible way I could be pregnant. It doesn’t line up, and before then I hadn’t had sex in months.