The weekend turns out to be the longest one of my life, between feeling like crap and just plain waiting for Monday to get here. I hardly leave my apartment between Friday night and Monday morning, partly because I’m so tired, but mostly because I don’t feel like doing my usual activities, which would normally include finding someone who looks interesting and mature on one of my dating apps and grabbing some dinner and drinks. I know I could still do the date and dinner, sans drinks, but I also know that I’d be thinking the entire time about how this is exactly how I got myself into the mess I’m currently in. So, for now, it’s probably best to avoid the situation entirely, even if that means turning into a homebody.
Louis is pretty good company, though. I jokingly think to myself that maybe he’s the only man I need, even though I know that makes me sound like a crazy cat lady, which is not something I want to be. Still, though, I have to wonder how all of this is going to turn out, and how my life will change if Monday’s appointment confirms my worst fears -- and with the way things have been going, it looks like it will.
Brian calls to check on me more than once, just as I figured he would. I know he’s worried about me, and I hate that because he’s got enough going on in his own life without having to take on any of my drama. I pride myself on being self-sufficient -- not needing anyone to worry about me or help me -- but I might soon have to make some concessions, whether I want to or not. I know Brian is well-acquainted with that feeling too.
By the time Monday finally arrives, I’m more than ready for some answers -- and some antibiotics. I also just really want to get the appointment over and done with, so I can get back to work and finish everything that needs to get done this week. I’m leaving on Tuesday to travel to Connecticut to oversee the reshoot of all of the video we need for the tourism campaign, this time with Justin’s friend in the starring role. In the meantime, I’ve got plenty to do to prepare, and I’ve also got my other campaigns to think about too.
I love how quickly Kinnetik is growing -- especially since I joined Brian in New York and we opened up a physical office here -- but the growth is starting to become overwhelming, because while each new account means thousands and sometimes millions of dollars in revenue, there’s also a lot of work that has to be done to go along with those new accounts, and much of it falls to Brian and me. So that leads to a lot of stress, and more than a few late nights, simply because there aren’t enough hours in the workday. I don’t mind doing it, especially when I have my partner in crime there with me, but it still takes a toll -- a toll I may soon not have the physical wherewithal to pay.
I’m still thinking about work when a nurse pushes the door open and calls my name. She leads me back through a maze of hallways that I’m not sure I could ever find my way through on my own, checks my vital signs and asks me what I’m here for today. I knew it was coming, but I still have a hard time saying it out loud: I think I might be pregnant.
Those words, along with the side note that I also think I have a UTI, lead to a lot of different tests and a whole lot of waiting around, during which my brain has plenty of time to run worst-case scenarios. I know that’s not doing me any good, but it is what it is. After giving my urine sample and having blood drawn, I end up back in an exam room by myself, where I’m left for so long that I start seriously considering opening the door and poking my head out, just to make sure they didn’t forget I was in there.
I try to distract myself from my anxious thoughts by using my phone to check my email, going through my normal morning routine, even though this morning is clearly anything but normal. I’ve gotten confirmation from everyone involved in the webseries filming, so at least that’s a go, though I’m pretty sure that spending two-and-a-half hours on a train with a UTI is going to suck. But it has to be done, and there isn’t anyone else I can delegate the task to because it’s my job to oversee it all and make sure everything goes exactly according to plan.
I’ve just started to type out a message to Marcia to confirm that everything is on track when I hear a soft knock on the door, followed by the click of the knob and the door sliding open. Immediately, I switch off the display on my phone and slide it back into my bag, while simultaneously trying to read the doctor’s face. Naturally, she proves to be every bit as difficult to read as Brian Kinney in a business meeting.
I watch her every move as she comes in, sits down, and clicks around a little bit on the computer, but I’m getting nothing. After what feels like an eternity, she turns toward me and gives me a tentative smile, though it’s small, and I still have no idea how to interpret it -- whether it’s intended to be reassuring, or just friendly, or something else entirely. I don’t know her well enough to be sure, having only been a patient of hers for a little over a year, and only coming in the office twice during that time, since I don’t get sick often.
“Have you been trying to conceive?” she asks, and I can hear the subtle note of caution in her voice, in spite of the overall casual tone of the question.
My immediate reaction is to laugh, though I manage to stifle it in the name of not looking batshit-crazy. “No,” I say, keeping my voice calm, and wishing she’d just give me the results already.
“Okay, well, it looks like you’re not pregnant.”
For a second, I’m not sure I heard her correctly, even though she just said the words I wanted her to say. Not that I want to argue, but I do want to be sure, and all of the evidence has been pointing in the direction of pregnancy, between how I’ve been feeling and the fact that my period is now about a month late, not to mention the positive pregnancy test. How could this all be in my head?
I’m still struggling to figure out what question to ask first when the doctor speaks again. “Can you tell me more about what was making you think you could be pregnant?” she asks, studying my face, which I’m sure looks every bit as confused as I’m currently feeling.
In that moment, everything I’ve been noticing over the last few weeks, and especially the past several days, comes spilling out -- how exhausted I’ve been, the bout of sudden nausea, feeling strangely emotional in situations where I normally wouldn’t, my lack of a period, and of course the pregnancy test. The entire time I’m babbling on, the doctor keeps nodding solemnly, just listening.
“You mentioned you took a pregnancy test,” she says. “How long ago?”
“Last week. I mean, the line was really faint, but it was there. And it seemed like those are fairly accurate, from what I read.”
“They are, but you also have a urinary tract infection, which I think you already knew, but your urinalysis confirms it. Blood and protein in your urine can cause a false positive with an over-the-counter test, but the blood test we did here isn’t affected by that. I don’t see anything in your bloodwork to indicate pregnancy.”
We spend the next few minutes discussing my missing period and the myriad of different factors that can affect one’s menstrual cycle as she asks about my diet, how much I exercise, and my stress levels. There’s a brief mention that I could be also starting the journey into menopause, which I’m not sure is good news or bad news, since it would keep me from getting pregnant, but would also come with a whole host of other unpleasant effects. Still, the lack of a period is typically an indication that something needs to change before more serious things start to happen, so by the time I leave the office, I’ve been advised to make sure I’m eating enough and to try to do something to reduce my stress levels. I nearly had to laugh when she suggested trying yoga or meditation, because I’ve never pictured myself as being in Rob or Ben’s camp when it comes to such things. Maybe it’s time to give it a try though, since being the vice president of a growing advertising firm means stress will probably never not be a part of my life.
As I leave the office, prescription in hand for the antibiotics that will hopefully help me get over this UTI soon, I'm still feeling slightly numb. I know I should be relieved -- maybe even jumping for joy -- but for some reason I still can't quite wrap my brain around what just happened.
I navigate the subway ride back to the office on autopilot, thankful that I'm such a frequent rider that I think I could get there with my eyes closed. Once I get into our building and upstairs to my office, I settle back in my chair, just letting myself breathe for a minute.
Everything I've been fearing is now suddenly no longer a concern, just like that. And I am relieved, but at the same time, I feel a little bit blindsided, even though it's good news. I've been preparing for the worst, and now I know for sure that's not happening, but that doesn't mean all of the feelings that went along with it are gone. Suddenly, I feel the pressure of everything that's been simmering just beneath the surface starting to bubble up and over in the form of tears, which soon turn into quiet sobs. Tears of relief.
I wish I would have closed the door to my office, but I didn't anticipate breaking down, so it's standing wide open when Brian goes by, probably on his way back to his own office after his morning meeting. He glances in, I'm sure just to say hello, but what he sees is clearly not what he expected. I look up at him as recognition dawns in his eyes, like he's suddenly remembered where I was this morning and what these tears might mean.
He comes in and closes the door, then moves closer to me.
"It's not--" I begin, intending to tell him that it’s not what he’s thinking, but the tears take over, despite my best efforts to keep myself under control, and I end up not being able to finish my sentence because I'm having trouble catching my breath.
"Tell me what I can do," Brian says, hesitantly reaching out for me, laying a hand on my forearm. He looks uncomfortable, but I know it's simply because he never quite knows what to do with tears and open displays of emotion. He's much more open than he used to be, but he's still Brian.
"You don't need to do anything," I whisper, my voice thicker than I’d like it to be, still not able to stop the tears that seem determined to come of their own volition, releasing all of the pent up feelings that have been stuck inside for the last few weeks while I tried to push my way through them and shove them aside.
"I know I don't… but I want to,” he says. His voice is soft and hesitant -- a tone I’ve only heard a handful of times before, and usually with Justin. “I'll do all the shit I didn't do with Lindsay. Everything Michael did with Melanie. The classes and the coaching and all of that shit. We’ll let all the heteros think we're some cute little couple."
That turns out to be the thing that turns my tears into laughter, and it makes me think of how this exchange is the exact opposite of the conversation Brian and I had last week, only he doesn't know that yet. The next thing I know, I'm trying to catch my breath for an entirely different reason, both incredibly touched that Brian is willing to let people think he's my husband, and at the same time finding the sheer idea of that hilarious, because there's no fucking way I'd be able to put up with his stubborn, high-maintenance ass 24/7. Sometimes I swear Justin must be a saint. Or else Brian gives a really good blowjob.
When I'm finally able to look up at Brian and blink the tears away, he looks a little confused, but his wry grin tells me he might have been trying to make me laugh on purpose, and I'm thankful for that. If Brian cares about you, he really does try to give you what you need, even though sometimes his actions can be a bit unconventional and not always well-received.
"No, you don't understand," I say, shaking my head and smiling while Brian looks more and more puzzled. "I’m not crying because I’m upset, I’m crying because… hell, I don’t know why I’m crying. But I'm not pregnant."
Once I’ve uttered those words -- words that feel so good to say out loud -- Brian looks every bit as surprised as I’m sure I did in the doctor’s office, though there’s still a note of confusion there. “But… the test… I thought…”
“I know. Me too. But I’m not. They did a blood test. I guess the UTI caused a false positive.”
“So, all of this is just--”
“Sickness and stress, apparently.”
Brian looks down for a moment, and I can tell he feels responsible, even though he’s not. That’s another thing about Brian -- he’ll blame himself for things that he had nothing to do with, which, given what little I know about his family, I’m sure is another one of those deeply entrenched behaviors he’ll never be rid of completely.
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” I say, attempting to head off his guilt trip before he can get too far down that road. “I think I just need to change some things… but I’m not sure what yet.”
Brian is quiet for a few seconds, then says, “You should go home. Take the rest of the week off.”
“I can’t,” I sigh. “I’m going to Connecticut tomorrow so we can reshoot all of that video. But I’m fine, really.” I feel like I’m giving Brian one of his lines, and I can tell he thinks the same thing from the raised eyebrow I’m getting, and the skeptical look in those expressive hazel eyes that have always been prone to telling you a hell of a lot more about how Brian is feeling than he wants to reveal -- you just have to be paying attention to see it.
“I’ll go,” he says. “You go home and rest and do what you need to do. Take care of yourself, like you’re always telling me to do. Don’t make me call Damon.” Brian gives me a smug smile, and I have to laugh, because he’s absolutely using every single one of my tricks on me, and yes, I’m being just as stubborn as he always is.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh I would. And it just so happens that I’m the one who signs his paychecks…”
I roll my eyes and reach for a tissue to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. When I look back at Brian, his smile is sincere.
“I mean it,” he says. “I’ve got the video shoot covered.”
I’m sure he also wants to make a sarcastic comment about surviving the train ride, because I know he absolutely hates the commuter trains, but he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he retrieves my bag, which I dropped into the armchair when I came in, and brings it to me, depositing it in my lap.
“Don’t make me push you out of here,” he says, his familiar smirk back in business.
Part of me would like to see exactly what that would look like, but I don’t make him do it. I really am tired, and I know I could use the rest. So I leave willingly, though still hesitantly, and I now can say I fully appreciate exactly how hard it is for Brian to leave the office behind, even when he feels like shit. Because I do feel like shit, but I also have a lot of responsibilities, and it’s hard to turn those over -- even to someone you’d trust not only with your work, but with your life.
I spend the next few days at home, becoming well-acquainted with my bed and my sofa, and coming to the conclusion that daytime television really is terrible. Thank heaven for Netflix, though, and the half-dozen different services that will deliver takeout when I’m too lazy to leave the living room. Brian goes to Connecticut in my place, and assures me that everything is going fine -- that Justin’s friend is super charming, and that I’m going to love the videos. (He also assures me that he managed not to strangle anyone on the train for trying to “help” him, which is probably a feat in and of itself.) And when another delivery person shows up at my door with a cooler full of cold-pressed juice that I didn’t order, I know exactly where it came from, because if Brian can find a way to throw money at a problem, he’ll do it, no questions asked.
Knowing that, I’m not the slightest bit surprised when Brian calls me on Wednesday afternoon and tells me that there will be a limo waiting for me downstairs in the morning to take me to some pricey, exclusive spa where he’s booked me a full day of pampering that I’m not allowed to refuse -- “CEO’s orders,” he says.
I try to jokingly object by saying, “What if I had plans?” but he’s having none of it. And honestly, this whole thing is so Brian that it’s all I can do not to laugh and tell him how predictable he is, and how I’m so onto him. But this is what he does when he cares about you -- he gives you what he thinks you need, and leaves you no other options.
Sitting in the back of the limo, sipping on champagne and feeling like a celebrity, rather than the Western Pennsylvania girl I am, I’m thinking about all of the things I’ve realized over the last few days that I’ve spent at home. As much as I love going out and having fun with a lot of different guys, there’s a significant risk there, and this experience has solidified for me just how significant it can be. While I don’t plan to stop dating, I probably will be a little more selective about when and how often I’m having sex, because there’s no way in hell I ever want to repeat what I just went through.
And I know my doctor is right that I need to find some different ways to deal with stress. I’m not getting any younger, and the last thing I want is to be having health problems because I threw myself a little too much into my work. I’m still not sure how I’m going to make that happen, but I guess I’ll figure it out; I don’t have much choice.
We pull up to the spa and the driver opens the door for me, like a true gentleman. From the moment I step through the front door and give the receptionist my name, I’m practically swept away and into a fully immersive all-day experience that I’m not sure I want to think about the cost of, though I know what Brian would tell me: “Don’t worry about it. You deserve it.”
It takes me a few minutes to shut my brain down and fully settle in, but I know I need to, because really, who else has a boss who literally hands them a day of luxury and leaves them no choice but to take it? My only obligation today is to myself -- to relax and renew. So I make a vow to myself to let go and enjoy, and allow the water swirling around my body in the jacuzzi to carry my worries away for the time being.
By the time I leave -- after a facial, full-body wrap and exfoliation, and the most amazing deep-tissue massage I’ve ever had -- I’m thankful that there’s a limo waiting to drive me back to my apartment, because I’m so blissed out that I’d probably get lost on the subway and end up in Queens. When I step off the elevator in my building and walk around the corner toward my apartment, I see a bouquet of flowers sitting outside my door. Inside the attached card, I easily recognize Brian’s handwriting.
Thanks for all of your hard work, and for saving my ass over and over again (and kicking it when I need it). I owe you. See you Monday. (Don’t even try to check your email, or you’re fired.) - BK
Brian’s last sentence makes me laugh, and I’m half tempted to see what sort of rude message he’s had Damon program to pop up if I try to check it, but I don’t. Truthfully, Brian doesn’t owe me a thing; we’re friends and we take care of each other. That’s all there is to it.
The weekend includes more rest and relaxation, and even a date with a handsome lawyer from Cleveland -- though I’ll forgive him that particular transgression -- including dinner, dancing, and a surprisingly satisfying goodnight kiss, with a promise to go out together again sometime, because I’d like to get to know him a little better.
When I get back to work on Monday, Brian is in his office with a smile on his face that makes me wonder who he murdered, because he’s never that happy on Monday morning.
“What’s got you so pleased?” I ask, as I set his customary triple-shot nonfat latte on his desk and look over at his computer screen, which is displaying a website that sells office furniture. “And why are you buying furniture? We just bought most of this last year. If you need some retail therapy, I’m sure I can come up with something more useful for you to shop for, like a convertible for moi. Or maybe some jewelry from Tiffany’s.”
“It’s not for us,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. He pulls his lips into his mouth and raises his eyebrows, looking at me like he’s got some huge, exciting secret. “It’s for downstairs.”
“What’s downstairs?” I’m confused, because I knew that space was vacant after the tech startup that was there folded and closed up shop last month, but we have plenty of space up here, and while I don’t deny that we could use a few more staff members, we don’t really need a whole floor full of new hires for Brian to get frustrated with.
However, the answer to my question is certainly something I wouldn’t have expected.
“GoodLife Robotics. And Rob’s new office.” A grin even bigger than the one he had before spreads across Brian’s face, and I see that twinkle in his eye that appears when he’s genuinely excited about something.
“No shit! How’d you talk him into it?”
“I didn’t. He came to me. Asked me to go to lunch on Friday, and said he was ready to make a change. And that’s not the only good news I’ve got.”
“What, did Jonathan turn in his two weeks’ notice?” I kid.
“I don’t know what you have against him, but no,” Brian laughs, not giving me time to list off the reasons why Jonathan is a pain in my ass before he continues. “I hired an account coordinator. Someone who can help us out with all of the logistical shit so we can just be the geniuses behind the campaigns.”
That news is even more surprising than finding out Rob is coming to work with us, because it means Brian is giving up some of his control. But honestly, I’m starting to think that Rob’s wake-up call was a little bit of one for Brian as well. I’ve noticed all of the little changes Brian has been making -- some of them conscious, and some of them not -- and they’re adding up to a better work-life balance for all of us. So I’m glad he’s decided to hire someone to help us out, and I’m looking forward to having a little less legwork to do (and maybe a little more time to myself on the evenings and weekends).
Brian spends the rest of the day picking out furnishings for Kinnetik’s new acquisition, looking like a kid in a candy store. As a partner, I should probably be a little bit miffed that Brian made such a huge decision without consulting me, but honestly, it’s not much of a surprise. The writing’s been on the wall for a while; we just needed all of the pieces to fall into place. Now, with Rob on board, they have.
And as I watch Brian make his initial purchases and line up contractors to make a few necessary renovations, I can’t help but see all of the love and care that’s going into the choices he’s making -- how much he wants to make this the perfect opportunity for Rob, and how willing he is to do whatever it takes to make that happen. But that’s just Brian -- the Brian that only a few of us know. The one we’re all lucky to count among our friends.