I drove 400 miles in a beat-up impala to be here. Mom thinks I'm at Brittney’s. I could hear her frantic voice in the front of my mind. But recently, I had an epiphany.
This is my body. This is my choice. Opinions don't pay for pampers.
I've weighed my options and made up my mind. Fuck any legislation that tries to tamper. So if I had to sell a kidney or strip for three months, I was going to have my way. Free to decide, available to live without a baby messing up my day.
But here I am, lying cold, wondering if I'm doing the right thing.
And I pray the guilt I feel is enough to justify my pain.
So can you keep a secret? One my pride won't readily share?
I'm scared shitless, and unprepared. Please, doctor, hold my hand.
It’s 10:10 PM and I’m debating for the 6th time today whether or not I should go for that bottle of jack my grandmother kept in the closet.
She didn’t think anyone knew, but I caught her sneaking sips on the days she babysat my brother and I. Looking back, I don’t blame her.
Between the “too serious” pillow fights and arguments over the last bag of potato chips, I would have dipped off for a drink too; but regardless of how much we got on her nerves, grandma always looked happy to see us.
That was until she got sick. One day she was diagnosed with Lukemia and 3 months later she was gone. I’m still bitter my mom didn’t let us go to the hospital to say goodbye the night she died, although I understand why.
Grandma wanted a say in how she was remembered.
The usually low fan was now buzzing prominently, and no one spoke.
My business partner has just revealed that his affection for me extended past the workplace.
“Why must men ruin everything?” I thought. Just when I felt safe to let my guard down, I realized he had been studying me this whole time under different pretenses.
Was this his motive all along?
Do his emotions for me undermine his respect for my work?
I began to reflect on our late-night brainstorming sessions and early team bonding activities and began to wonder if I had given off any mixed signals.
After all, wasn’t long hours and cold pizza typical for a startup culture?
I had no idea he had been romanticizing our time together, and I couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed as I mustered enough strength to crack a smile and speak.
“Aww, I’m flattered,” I said, hoping to mask my discomfort.
His face dropped, and I immediately felt guilty. Scrambling for more words to ease the blow, I continued:
“I would just prefer to keep our relationship purely focused on work.”
His face softened, and he seemed pleased with that explanation, but the damage was done.
How could I continue to work with someone who has a crush on me? Would things be awkward between us forever?
