The Ultimate Pi Day Party

by Jackie Lau

  Chapter 18

  Sarah

  My uterus hates me.

  Like, it really fucking hates me.

  I should be in the kitchen, assembling chicken pot pies. Because of Josh’s party, we have more to make than usual.

  Instead, I’m in my tiny office, ostensibly doing financial stuff, but I’m making little progress.

  There’s another stab of pain, and I curl up in my chair.

  My period wasn’t supposed to start today. I thought I’d have until Friday. I thought I’d be able to have a nice date with Josh tomorrow without having to worry about it.

  But it’s only Wednesday, and I’m doubled over in pain.

  Okay, Sarah. Come on. You can do it.

  I remove my hand from my lower abdomen and scroll down with the mouse, but I don’t understand what I’m seeing. The numbers are floating around on the screen. Normally, numbers make perfect sense to me, but not today.

  Ahhhhhh.

  Goddamn uterus. Why do you hate me so much?

  There’s a knock on the door, and Ann pops her head into my office. “Josh is here to see you,” she says with a smile.

  A moment later, Josh enters, closing the door behind him.

  Our date isn’t until tomorrow, right? Or has the pain screwed with my memory?

  “Hey, Sarah.” He smiles at me. He’s wearing a blue Henley today, and he looks great.

  Whereas I must look like complete shit.

  If I were feeling better, I might think of jumping him right now. Instead, I’m thinking about how I can get rid of him as quickly as possible. I have work to do, and I’m in pain. The last thing I need is a surprise visit.

  Though he really is nice to look at.

  More stabbing pain.

  “Oh, God,” I whisper.

  He kneels in front of my chair and put his hands on my knees. “What’s wrong?”

  “Not feeling well,” I mumble, “but I’ll be okay soon. Lots of work to do.”

  “You’re pale.” He reaches up to touch my forehead. “And you’re sweating.”

  Yeah, that happens sometimes when I have cramps. At least my nausea isn’t too bad.

  “You shouldn’t be working if you’re sick,” he says. “Let me call a cab and take you home. Or maybe I should take you to the doctor.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t need a doctor. I’ll be fine tomorrow, or Friday at the latest. I’m not sick, just...ahhhh.”

  I could tell him the truth, but talking about periods with a guy seems weird. I’ve never done it before. I suppose women with boyfriends and husbands must mention it to them at some point, but I haven’t had close relationships like that, and if I had my period, I wouldn’t be having a one-night stand, which is usually the situation when I go to bed with a guy.

  Except Josh is different. Josh, the cause of my burnt hazelnuts and bleeding thumb yesterday. I was determined not to let him affect my work, and I arranged for our date to be a day later than he suggested so I could have some distance from him. Yet here he is in my office.

  “You should have texted first,” I say.

  He frowns as he studies my face. I’m annoyed with him for this unexpected visit, and yet he looks so concerned that I can’t really be mad at him. Plus, I’m in too much pain to be mad.

  “Ughhh.” I clutch my abdomen.

  “I don’t know how you can get any work done like this. It’s four thirty. You might as well go home, although I really think you should see a doctor, and if it’s contagious, you shouldn’t be in the kitchen... Oh.” He presses his lips together and nods. “You have cramps.”

  “Yes.” I look down, mortified. Talking about this with anyone other than my mother or sister feels strange.

  “Is there anything you can take? Painkillers? I can run to the pharmacy and get some.”

  “I already took ibuprofen,” I say miserably. Most of the time, ibuprofen is enough to keep me functional for the two or three days of the month that I have cramps. But a couple times a year, my cramps are so bad that ibuprofen only takes the edge off. Barely.

  Unfortunately, today is one of those times.

  I rest my cheek on the back of the chair and release a shuddering breath. In and out. In and out. Breathe through the pain.

  “Sarah.” His hand is on my other cheek, stroking me tenderly. “Please. Let me take you home and look after you.”

  “I won’t be any fun.”

  “You don’t need to be fun. Can I shut off your computer and call a cab?”

  “It’s only a fifteen-minute walk. We don’t need a cab.”

  He gives me a look.

  “A fifteen-minute walk,” I repeat. “I’ll be able to walk...in just a minute. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  He pulls out his phone and orders the cab from an app, I guess. I can barely pay attention to what’s going on. Then he comes to the computer and saves and closes everything I have open before shutting it off.

  I tell my employees that I’m leaving early because I’m not feeling well—the first time that’s ever happened. When I’m finished, the cab is waiting, and Josh helps me inside. He sits next to me and wraps his arms around me as the cab lurches forward.

  Dammit. Now I truly am nauseous. I hope I don’t throw up. Though this is probably better than walking.

  I mumble my address, then squeeze my eyes shut and lean on Josh’s shoulder.

  When we pull up to my apartment building a few minutes later, I manage to stumble inside and put the key in my door. Josh helps me into my bedroom, where I change into a pair of pajama pants and notice the small blood stain on my jeans. Crap. I collapse on my bed, curled up in a ball. Everything hurts and I’m still nauseous. Josh gets into bed and puts his hand on my side, and the concerned look on his face makes it even harder to breathe.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asks.

  “Hot water bottle.”

  I tell him where to find one. He gets up, and I hear him poking around in my kitchen. My instinct is to help him. He’s a guest; I should be doing this. But getting up would be so much effort.

  There’s another stabbing pain, and I let out a string of curses. I haven’t had cramps this bad in years.

  Josh returns with the hot water bottle, two cups of tea, and a little plate of orange slices, strawberries, digestive cookies, and chocolate.

  “I love you,” I say, then my eyes open wide in terror.

  Shit. I just told a guy that I love him.

  He runs his hand down my arm, unperturbed by the words I said far too soon. I think he understands that I was just thankful for what he’s doing for me.

  God, I’m such a mess right now.

  He holds out a piece of chocolate, and I eat it from his fingers. Oh, chocolate, I love you, too. You are so sweet and delicious and—

  “Ahhhh.” Pain shoots through me.

  I snuggle under the blankets and put my hot water bottle on my aching lower back. Josh wraps his arms around me. The way he touches me isn’t sexual, but soothing and intimate, and for the next few minutes, he peppers me with kisses and feeds me fruit and chocolate.

  “How are you doing now?” he asks.

  I don’t know how to answer. I’m in pain, but a man has never looked after me like this before, and it’s nice. I wonder what I could have had, relationship-wise, in the past decade if I hadn’t focused only on my career.

  Lots of burnt hazelnuts and cut thumbs, perhaps.

  Or maybe...

  I move the hot water bottle to my front and turn over so I’m facing away from Josh. He immediately knows what I want and puts his arm around me from behind. I try to focus on his body pressed against my back rather than the pain I’m feeling. He kisses my temple, and God, it’s so tender and sweet.

  “I feel like runny caramel, spreading out over the bed,” I say, then realize it sounds silly.

  “I can’t say I’ve ever felt like that before.” But he doesn’t tell me I’m silly.

  I curl up into more of a ball. It hurts, it hurts
so much, but Josh is holding me, caressing my hair and forehead, even though I’m disheveled and sweaty and not at my best. He’s here for me, in whatever way I need him, and I feel like everything will be okay.

  Eventually, the pain recedes enough for me to fall asleep.

  * * *

  When I wake up, it’s dark except for the bright light of a screen. I blink, disoriented.

  Josh is sitting up in bed, working on his laptop

  My water bottle is lukewarm, and there’s a cold cup of tea on the bedside table, plus a piece of chocolate and a digestive cookie.

  “Hey,” I say groggily.

  He sets his laptop aside and pulls me against him. “How are you doing?”

  “Better. Still not great, but much better.”

  The pain is dull and manageable now. Although with Josh, almost everything seems manageable. I’m stronger with him next to me.

  I smile at him, and he runs his thumb over my lower lip.

  My boobs feel weird. I frown, then realize I fell asleep with my bra on, a very unusual occurrence for me. I undo the clasp at the back, pull the bra out through my sleeve, and throw it on the ground.

  Much better.

  “Impressive.” Josh pulls me into an embrace.

  A part of me is amazed he’s still here.

  I guess that’s what people do when they care about each other.

  I don’t want to think too much about where we’re going, and for now, I’ll just let myself enjoy the luxury of having him here. I rarely feel this crappy. I can have some time off.

  “What do you want for dinner?” he asks. “I’ll order us something.”

  Although I’m getting hungry, just the thought of deciding what to order is overwhelming.

  “Whatever you want,” I say.

  “No, we’ll have what you want. You’re the one who’s not feeling well.”

  “Too complicated...”

  “Okay.” He nods. “I’ll figure it out. Is there anything you don’t like?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not picky.”

  “One more question: soup or fried food?”

  “Soup.”

  Soup sounds delicious. I have cramps, and outside, it’s a blustery winter day. The weather should be warming up soon, seeing as it’s March, but it’s still below freezing today.

  “No problem.” He pulls up a food delivery app on his phone. “This is one of the apps we developed.”

  I close my eyes and snuggle up under the covers as he figures out dinner. It’s nice to have someone else to deal with things for me. I’m used to doing it all myself, both at home and when I’m at work.

  But right now, I leave it to him, and I trust he’ll get me something tasty.

  “It’ll be about forty-five minutes,” he says. “I hope that’s okay.”

  I nod and pop a cookie into my mouth.

  We hang out in bed as we wait, me dozing in and out, Josh idly stroking my hair and working on his laptop. It’s comfortable. I feel like we’re an old married couple.

  I jolt up at that thought. An old married couple?

  “Something wrong?” he asks.

  I shake my head and cocoon myself in the blankets.

  When the food arrives, Josh goes to get it. He returns a few minutes later, scoops me up into his arms, and brings me to my small kitchen table, where the food is laid out. A plate of dumplings sits in the middle of the table, and he’s poured the soup into two large bowls. There are green onions and cilantro sprinkled on top of wide noodles and broth and some kind of meat.

  “It smells delicious,” I say.

  “Lamb and hand-pulled noodles.”

  I try a bite. When I groan in pleasure, Josh smiles.

  “Is this what your mom made when you were sick?” I ask. “Like chicken noodle soup?”

  He chuckles. “This food is from Shaanxi, one of the northern provinces in China. My family is from Hong Kong. Mom would make me jook—congee—with chicken and ginger.”

  Ah. Okay. I feel a little stupid.

  I reach for a dumpling, which also contains lamb, not something I associate with Chinese cuisine, but clearly there is much I don’t know.

  “How are you feeling now?” he asks.

  “Not too bad.” I squeeze his leg. “Sorry I’m not any fun today.”

  “Sarah, you have to stop apologizing for that. I’m here because I want to be. It’s far from a hardship to look after you, though I hate seeing you in pain.”

  “It’s just...I feel like I always have to be ‘on’ when I’m with other people, you know? Except maybe my family. And I’m not ‘on’ right now.”

  “I can leave if you want, but—”

  “No, no.” A void opens up inside me at the thought. “It’s nice. You can stay.”

  He smiles and squeezes my hand under the table, and we sit like that in companionable silence, eating our noodles and lamb.

  My phone buzzes. I don’t reach for it, but when it buzzes again, Josh hands it to me.

  Are you okay?? Chloe asks. I stopped by to see you and Ann said you went home sick.

  Cramps, I tell her, not in the mood for lying. Josh is taking care of me, though.

  And then I burst into tears.

  Oh, God. Now Josh is actually going to think I’m a basket case. But a friend checked up on me after hearing I was sick. A man fed me noodles and chocolate and made me a hot water bottle. I’m not used to these things, and they’re making me all weepy.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Did you get bad news?”

  “No, just someone checking up on me, and I’m weirdly emotional today.” I try to smile through the tears. “See? I’m fine.”

  “Alright,” he says uncertainly.

  I have a feeling he’d want to beat up anyone who made me cry, which is touching and rather scary.

  Once we’ve finished our soup and dumplings, I pull out the chocolate hazelnut tarts I made yesterday. “A slight modification of my previous recipe,” I say. “Tell me what you think.”

  He moans after his first bite, and I feel the stirrings of lust in my belly, which, for obvious reasons, I didn’t feel earlier today, despite his company.

  “They’re perfect,” he says.

  I grin. “So here’s what I changed...”

  I proceed to tell him all about the tarts. I basically recite my recipe, then realize it probably isn’t interesting to anyone but me. All that matters to Josh is that they taste good.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, even though he told me not to say that. “I must be boring you.”

  “No.” He slides his hand through my hair, which I’m sure must be an absolute mess. “You light up when you talk about your work. It’s nice.”

  This time, I don’t have to force my smile.

  After dinner, he insists on cleaning up. While he does that, I make a horrifying discovery.

  I’m out of pads.

  I remember thinking to myself at work that I should stop at the pharmacy on the way home, but then Josh came by and we took a cab.

  Just as I’m closing my night-table drawer, something starts clawing at my uterus again, and I curl up on my bed. It feels like a baby dinosaur is trying to get out of an egg, and I’m the fucking egg.

  Does that comparison make sense? Ugh. I don’t know anymore.

  I stumble to the kitchen. “Josh, I have a huge favor to ask.”

  “What is it?”

  He throws the dish towel over his shoulder, and damn, that’s pretty hot. I almost ask him to do it again, but then I remember my important mission.

  “I need you to, uh, get something from the pharmacy for me,” I say. “It’s just a block away, and this is what you need to buy.” I pull out my phone, find a photo of the package of sanitary napkins I require, and hold it up for him to see. “These exact ones. This brand, with wings. They always have them in stock. Nothing different, okay?”

  Josh doesn’t blink. “No problem. Is that all?”

  I nod. “Here, I’ll get you some
cash.”

  He holds up a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

  He makes me another hot water bottle and a cup of tea—which I’m determined to actually drink this time—then heads to the pharmacy. After I take an ibuprofen, I turn on the TV and start an episode of Brooklyn 99. Despite the on-and-off pain I’m experiencing, I smile. I feel...cherished.

  Josh returns with the pads and some more chocolate, and I nearly declare my love for him again but manage to hold back. We watch a few episodes of the show together, him sitting up on the couch and me lying down with my head in his lap.

  By nine thirty, I’m pretty tired.

  “You can leave now,” I tell Josh. “I’m going to bed. Thank you so much for everything.”

  “I’ll stay, if you don’t mind. I can sleep out here on the couch, or—”

  “Of course you can stay in the bed.”

  He smiles at me.

  I brush my teeth, put on my pajama shirt, and climb into bed. Josh climbs in with me, wearing his Henley and boxers, and I snuggle up against his chest. I kiss him, trying to express, without words, how much I appreciate all this. When I scrape my fingers over his abs, he hisses out a breath.

  “Sarah,” he groans.

  We leisurely kiss for a while, and then I fall asleep.

  * * *

  I wake up when my alarm goes off the next morning. The large lump in bed next to me slowly begins to move, letting out a few curse words.

  “What time is it?” Josh grumbles, rubbing his eyes.

  “Five thirty.”

  “How are you feeling?” He puts his hands on my cheeks, his attention now all on me.

  “My uterus is no longer trying to kill me, so I’m much better.”

  “Are you going to work?”

  “Yep.”

  “Please go home if it gets as bad as yesterday.”

  I nod.

  “Call me if you need to.”

  “Okay.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yes, I’ll call you. Quit bossing me around, Sir CEO. And I must apologize, I don’t have the Lucky Charms that you favor for breakfast.”

  “Then I guess I’ll be without my magic powers today.”

  We look at each other and laugh.

  After we drink coffee and eat cereal without mini-marshmallows, I take his head in my hands. “Thank you,” I say. “Thank you.”