Chapter Text
Jan stared into the empty toilet bowl, vision blurring and bile still burning in her throat. Her dark eyeshadow dripped down her cheeks as her eyes watered from the strain, releasing a torrent of stomach acid and eggs, before the nausea finally began to subside.
"I always thought the morning sickness was only a first trimester thing," she said aloud to her empty, dingy bathroom. Jan wiped her mouth with a square of toilet paper and tossed it in the bowl with her breakfast and flushed.
Moving boxes still littered the narrow hallway in her apartment, forcing her to watch her feet twist though the maze of cardboard and clutch her palm to her stomach. The little bump there wasn't something she was used to quite yet, something—someone—that shared the fabric of her dress and wouldn't allow her to eat in peace. Oh, what she would do to enjoy a full dinner again. The way she used to, at a table full with artists and visionaries, picking apart roasted duck with her fork and sipping wine over conversation that she controlled. The smell of that duck, even in her memory, made her stomach roll.
Jan lowered herself onto the velvet chair, her only living room furniture, and sank into the plush. Not quite at the stage where the transition between sitting and standing was an ordeal, but still she could feel the bulge of life between her hips that made it uncomfortable to sit how she wanted to. It was not what she imagined, living alone at twenty-two weeks pregnant, nauseous all the time, and newly single. The loss of her baby's…other parent? Father? Other mother? She didn't even know how to refer to Larissa anymore. Her loss was devastating, no matter how many times Larissa offered to pay for a visit to the abortion clinic, to make adoption arrangements, to make this mess "go away," as she had said, was too painful for Jan to face. Larissa wasn't a monster, she just wasn't a mother either.
"You can't possibly blame me for this," she had said, "I didn't think shifting…that part of myself worked so completely."
"Who else would I blame?" Jan returned through sobs.
"You asked me to!" Larissa's eyes were watery, a frown pulled the corners of her painted red mouth down. "I'm sorry, Jan," she sighed and sat next to Jan on the edge of their bed. Well, it was Larissa's bed, really, Jan remembered with a hint of bitterness. Larissa had rubbed her back while she held the positive tests and grappled with believing them.
Larissa tried, she truly did, but with demanding hours at the school and a deepening resentment for how much attention Jan needed, even she could not keep them together.
So here Jan sat, reflecting on her mostly empty little apartment full of memorabilia of a past life that felt so much further away than it really was. And with new, unfamiliar baby stuff mixed in, it was hard for Jan to even feel like the place was hers at all. It was hard to feel like her body was hers, with new pains and strange growths, uncontrollable emotions and desires, and to top everything off her milk had come in early and in what felt like torrential amounts. Her bra was stuffed with tissue, for once not in an attempt to make her chest look bigger, but to catch the thick yellowish liquid that leaked from her nipples constantly. Her breasts were so full at times they ached, her skin straining against the milk inside and adding to the horror her quickly expanding body was inflicting. It could be beautiful, in a way, something she could've used in a piece of performance art. The act of birthing, of conception, of waddling around with a big round belly, it was all so physical! But that chapter of her life was over, no matter how often she reached for it.
Larissa checked in infrequently, mostly testing the waters on whether or not Jan's decision had changed, and hanging up the phone after she realized it had not. No bother, Jan decided, she would do it without Larissa's help.
Her belly grew subtly enough she didn't notice day to day, but so quickly it left deep purple stretch marks springing from her hipbones and trailing toward her navel. Suddenly only her dresses fit, then only the loose ones that didn't restrict her chest too much. Overnight the act of dressing or putting on makeup or doing her hair became an arduous task that she had to take breaks so she could breathe properly while doing. The baby kicked her in the ribs, pressed on her organs, and squeezed her bladder so tightly it was dangerous to be away from the bathroom for long.
Jan occupied her time devising an aesthetic story for her child, a comprehensive room with a color palette and a personality. The soft blue or pink of most nurseries would not do, not with the crafted black wooden crib she had flown in (on Larissa's card) from overseas with ornate backing and claw-foot legs. A deep, rich, enchanting red would surely tie this baby's room together and set him or her up to share in the creative visions of its mother. One of its mothers, anyway. Jan did not bother telling Larissa the details, it would only hurt to see how little she cared.
She packed her purse full with extra tissues, antacids, and nausea medication before going to the hardware store. She could smell every piece of lumber, every unusual chemical, all of the plastic and cardboard that housed the products as soon as she walked in, so she breathed through her mouth. The paint, unfortunately, smelled strongest as she browsed the color options, taking swatches here and there to hold against her belly, as if the baby would decide which color was best.
"Need any help?"
Jan spun around, eyes darting down out of habit and then trailing up—the woman was the same height as her. A rarity, Larissa was one of the few other women Jan had met that could meet her eyes straight on. Jan felt herself blushing as she took in the employee, her blonde hair cropped short and the mandatory blue vest complementing her eyes nicely. "I'm looking for a deep red," she said and stepped forward, cursing her giant stomach for being in the way of getting closer to this woman.
Brienne, her name tag said, turned a delicious shade of pink at their proximity, her crystal blue eyes glancing to the side before she cleared her throat. "Do you know what finish you're looking for?"
Jan had forgotten to think ahead that far, but under no circumstances could she lose the attention of such a handsome clerk. "Eggshell?"
"Eggshell is good," Brienne said. Jan smiled and adjusted her dress, hoping to puff out the skirt enough to hide her ever-growing belly. "Have you settled on a color?" She stepped back, headed for the paint counter. Jan quickly trailed after her, trying her hardest not to waddle along the way.
"I'm between these," Jan said and offered the spread of swatches she picked out, making sure to let her long slender fingers linger in Brienne's view.
Brienne pushed the sleeves of her plaid shirt up to her elbows and leaned in to look at the swatches. Jan admired the strong veins and muscles running up her forearms, nearly drooling right onto the counter.
"What room is it for?"
Jan really hadn't thought that far. She stood for a moment, pleasantly smiling and deciding how long she could reasonably go without mentioning her pregnancy and ruining her chance at a good lay for the first time in months. "Nursery," she finally said through her teeth.
Brienne's eyes glanced down to Jan's stomach and then back up, her shoulders slumping forward. Any imagined flirtation Jan was picking up on was gone, just as she feared. "I-I'm not with anyone. If that's what you were going to ask."
"I wasn't," Brienne smiled, "but that is better for me."
Jan bit her lower lip, probably smearing dark lipstick onto her teeth, but she didn't care because Brienne had already passed her hardest test—willingness to date a single mother.
"This one," Brienne pointed to one of the shades on the counter, "is a little brighter, more happy."
"Oh I don't mind the dark." Jan rested her hand over Brienne's, brushing gently as she reached across to point at another swatch. "I was thinking this one."
"I can do that for you."
"Wonderful." Jan drew her hand back, releasing Brienne to grab a white can of eggshell indoor paint and type the color code into the mixing machine. She grabbed a key to pry open the lid and as soon as the fresh paint was exposed to the air, it infiltrated Jan's nostrils and her stomach jumped into her throat. Her hand flew to cover her nose, but her mouth was already filling with saliva. "Excuse me," she choked out and bolted toward the restrooms.
When Jan had finished dispensing her lunch into the hardware store toilet, she wiped her mouth, reapplied her lipstick, and prayed she hadn't just disgusted Brienne beyond belief. She approached the paint counter slowly with her hand gingerly covering her nose.
"It's all mixed! The lid is closed," Brienne said, holding up the sealed can and two paint brushes. Jan sighed in relief. "But I don't know how you're supposed to paint the walls if you can't even open the tin."
"I suppose I'll need to hire someone." Jan put on her best seductive voice, at least what she remembered of being able to use it effectively. It had been so long since she dared lure someone to bed and her throat still burned with stomach acid.
Brienne's cheeks flushed pink, her eyes searching Jan's face. "I could reach the high up spots."
"So can I." Jan watched Brienne cringe at herself and smiled. "But I'll take the help."