She goes into the living room, and finds her purse. She pulls an item out and returns to her room with it. She stares at it for a solid ten minutes. It's the same thing that she had put in her desk drawer earlier.
"Come on Addison get it together," she tells herself.
She closes her eyes momentarily to clear her head. Instead of closing them momentarily she ends up drifting off. Most likely from the lack of anything to eat so far in the day, on top of everything else. She wakes up less than ten minutes later when she hears a noise. It turns out that it's just the air kicking on. She returns to reality. She looks her problem straight in the eye, well in a matter of speaking.
Truthfully, she wanted to crawl in a hole and hide, but she knew that it wasn't going to work. So finally admits it. To herself anyway. It would probably be a while before she told anyone else. She was going to wait as long as possible. Which, in reality might not be very long.
"I'm pregnant," she says a loud to herself.
She starts panicking of course. I'm pregnant. I'm having a baby. Oh good lord, this isn't happening. I don't want to be someone's mother. I do, but not today. I'm not ready for this. But I'm an adult so I should pull it together. I'm forty years old I shouldn't be so scared. She decides that this internal dialogue is getting her no where. So she stops before she completely drives herself crazy.
She had to admit though seven weeks was a long time for a woman not to know that they were pregnant. It was especially a long time for an ob/gyn not to know that she was pregnant. All the signs were there, but she had just been to busy to notice them. The throwing up should have definitely tipped her off. She figured that it had just been something that she ate, but obviously it hadn't been.
She was going to lose her mind if she didn't talk to someone. She couldn't tell anyone that she worked with because she didn't want to have to see whoever she told in person for some time. She racks her brain, and finally comes up with a solution. She finds her phone and begins dialing a familiar number. Luckily the voice she's hoping for answers after a few rings.
"Hello?"
"Hi Miranda it's Addison. Are you busy?"
"Not for you,"
"If you are it's ok," she says in a shaky voice.
"Addison is everything alright? You sound upset,"
"No everything isn't alright. I needed someone to talk to and..."
"I understand. What's going on?"
"Never mind," she says chickening out.
"Addison nothing you could tell me should embarrass you. Remember when you had poison ivy?"
"True,"
"It can't be as bad as that can it?"
"I don't know. It isn't as embarrassing, although it's close,"
"Addison spit it out,"
"I did something stupid,"
"I work at a hospital, it's stupid central it can't be that bad,"
"How is everyone?"
"They're fine now tell me what's going on,"
"I got drunk..."
"You called to tell me that?"
"No. I got drunk and I slept with someone but I don't have any idea who,"
"That's not good,"
"No. But it gets worse,"
"How?"
"I don't have any idea who they are because I don't remember them at all,"
"Then how do you know that you slept with someone?"
"I remember the next morning,"
"So? Maybe you just over interpreted things,"
"I don't think so Miranda,"
"Addison it's not that big of a deal. We've all done stupid things before. L.A. is a big town you'll probably never see him again, so I wouldn't worry about it,"
"But I need to figure out who he is,"
"Why it isn't like you're pregnant or something. Is it?"
There's silence on the other end of the phone.
"Addison are you still there?" Miranda asks.
"Uh huh,"
"Are you going to answer my question?"
"Yes,"
"Ok?"
"Why else would I care who it was?"
"I don't know. So are you telling me that you are pregnant?"
"Yes,"
"Are you sure? Maybe you're not,"
"I'm sure Miranda,"
"How sure?"
"Pretty sure. I mean I got pregnant on halloween, so I think that I'm sure,"
"You're just now telling me?"
"I just now realized,"
"How did you just now realize? You're an ob/gyn,"
"I know. I feel like a complete and total idiot. I'm seven weeks pregnant and I just realized that something was off yesterday,"
"How could you just have realized yesterday?"
"I don't know. You'd think I would have figured it out after the perpetual state of nausea that I've been in,"
"So you're a hundred percent sure?"
"Yes I'm looking at a picture right now,"
"Oh,"
"What do I do?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. I feel so dazed an confused. I don't want this,"
"I thought that you did,"
"Yeah but not this way. Not now. It's not a good time,"
"When would be a good time?"
"I don't know. I just wanted to be prepared to take this step when I was ready, not have it sprung on me. I thought I don't know what I thought. I guess that I just wanted to be in a relationship before this happened,"
"Addison it happens every day to ordinary people, you'll be fine,"
"How do you know? I'm not ready for this,"
"You've got time to figure it out,"
"I don't know,"
"Look Addison I've got to go my little guy just woke up,"
"Ok, bye," she hangs up.
"Why now?" she asks a loud as if she was waiting for an answer.
She didn't get a response, because it was something that she'd have to figure out on her own.
The following day when she got up she felt sicker than usual. After a while she started dry heaving. Finally she stopped. She was shaky, and felt light headed. She went to the store for some sprite, and decided that she had nothing better to do so she might as well go to the Christmas party. She grabs a box of Christmas cards, and goes to the register. She stops off and gets some gift cards as well. As soon as she gets home she pours herself a glass of sprite. She takes a sip as she opens up the box of cards. She writes each of her co-workers a little message, and slips a gift card in each envelope, finally sealing them each with a gold sticker. She takes few more sips of her drink, and then goes in to the bathroom to shower. She proceeds to get ready. As she slips on her shirt she momentarily looks at her mirror. She takes a deep breath and then exhales. She stares at herself in the mirror for a few minutes. She didn't really look any different at all. She stared at her stomach it was as flat as it had ever been. Right? She couldn't tell, and if she couldn't no one else was going to know. Hopefully no one else would know. She places her hand on her stomach for a second, and then goes back to getting ready.
When she's ready she gathers her stuff, and heads to Naomi's.
It's ten til four when she arrives. She rings the doorbell. She hears laughing, and then footsteps. Violet opens the door.
"Oh good you came," she smiles.
"Uh huh. I'm not too early am I?"
"No,"
"Are you sure? It's pretty quiet,"
"It's just Naomi and I. We always tell the guys five. We like to have at least an hour to talk about them before they get here,"
"Oh," Addison smiles.
"Any way come on in,"
Violet leads her into the kitchen.
"Look who changed her mind," Violet smiles, as Addison follows behind her.
"Hi,"
"Are you hungry?" Naomi asks.
"No I'm fine, thanks,"
"Want something to drink? We just opened up a nice bottle of wine," Violet adds.
"Hell, yes," is what she wanted to say. But instead she answers, "No thanks,"
"You sure?"
"Uh huh I try not to drink,"
Violet and Naomi both begin laughing. After they recover Naomi asks "Why not?"
"I'm a really bad drunk," she admits.
"You don't have to get drunk," Violet points out.
"I've got an addictive personality," she replies.
"Ok. If you plan on not drinking I'd stick to..."
"I think I've got some ginger ale in the fridge,"
"Ok,"
They party goes smoothly. They play games, exchange gifts, and eat. Addison doesn't eat anything even though everyone else does. Finally she decides to go home around eight thirty. She gets home just after nine. Sam gets home around ten. He looks over and sees that Addison's light is on. He sees her laying on the floor. He refocuses and sees something that looks like blood. He leaves his apartment and goes to hers. He knocks and there is no response. He tries the door hoping that it's unlocked. Luckily it is unlocked. He rushes through the door, and over to Addison. He sees glass surrounding her as well as blood. He picks her up out of the shards of glass from the broken table, and places her on the couch. He finds paper towels, and an unopened bottle of peroxide on the counter of the kitchen. He wipes the blood off of her hand, and pours peroxide on it. The sensation jolts her out of a state of unconsciousness. She opens her eyes and sees him kneeling down next to her.
"What are you doing here?"
"Are you ok?" He asks her as he wraps a few paper towels around her hand.
"Yeah why?"
"You were unconscious. What happened?"
"When I got home I felt dizzy, I thought I might pass out, and I reached out for the table to steady myself, but I must have passed out,"
"Do you have a medical condition?"
"No I just didn't eat very much today. I'm fine really,"
"Do you have some thread, and a needle?"
"Why?"
"I want to stitch your hand up,"
"Oh yeah I'll go get it," she says as she gets off the couch.
"You sure you're ok?"
"I'm fine," she tells him as she leaves the room. She finds her medical bag, and comes back into the living room. Sam has just finished cleaning up all of the glass. She sits back down on the couch and hands Sam her medical bag.
"Here you go,"
He grabs the needle and thread off the top of the open bag and sits down next to her.
"Can I see your hand,"
She extends her right hand which is wrapped up in blood soaked paper towels. He gives her a few stitches and then cleans off her hand, and throws all of the bloodied paper towels away.
"Are you sure that you're ok?"
"Yeah, but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone. It's embarrassing. I don't want to look like an idiot.,"
"Low blood sugar isn't embarrassing."
"I guess not but..."
"Don't worry about it. I won't tell anyone," he promises. She smiles in appreciation as he leaves.