Thank you to anyone who has read this and for any reviews left :-) and a major thankyou to Mirrorsparkles1234 for reading bits of this and helping me out :-) I hope this part is ok.
From the moment she nodded her head, Zosia wished she could recall the movement. From that moment she was trapped in the whirlpool that was Colette when she was on a mission. It was easy to forget how determined the older woman could be, especially when you tried, as Zosia had, to strike her from your memory but now it was all coming back to her.
She hadn't even attempted to finish her drink. There was little point. Having agreed to take a test, her stomach had decided that being settled was not part of the plan. She was surprised that the liquid she'd already consumed, along with the meagre breakfast she'd managed, hadn't made a reappearance given the performance it was giving. She hated how sick worry could make her, especially now when it was harder to convince herself it was just that.
Instead she'd quickly found herself spirited away to Colette's office – having been quickly reassured that Guy was busy for a good few hours yet. Sitting alone in that room, she'd had to fight against the urge to run. She could leave the hospital, leave a message that she's unwell and then hide out somewhere. She could disappear entirely for a few days, just long enough to get her head straight but then she'd still have to return and face Colette - Colette who by that point would likely have run to Guy and then this whole sorry situation would spiral out of control – and as yet she didn't even know that there was a situation too spiral. No she had to face this, as much as she hated that.
She tried to distract herself by studying the office. By taking in the things that Guy had bought in to make it his own, and the little touches that confirmed that Colette probably had more control than the CEO did. It sickened her slightly how much he seemed to rely on this other woman, the one who had always been the third wheel in her parent's marriage. She'd always watched them with suspicion but Mama had never seemed to worry as she did.
Mama. It was dangerous territory to think of her mother. Along time ago, mama had talked of how she looked forward to the day she could enjoy grandchildren. Zosia knew that it had pained her mother to only have the one child. Mama had so much love to give and had taken such joy in her role as mama that it was such a shame that she hadn't had a hoard of children to lavish and that made Zosia feel all the worse. At the end, when mama had needed her, after all those years of taking, she hadn't been there. There should have been so many people there with her, loving her as she had loved them and yet for mama – her beautiful mama – there had been none of that.
And now she wasn't there, and that made this all the more scary. If mama was here, she could have talked with her. She could have sought comfort in her mother's arms as she whispered soft words in Polish, words she'd used to soothe her in childhood and which would still have the desired affect now that she was an adult. Mama who would support her whatever she chose to do – if she had a choice to make – while all the while hoping that she would know the pleasure of having a grandchild to love, to have a house which rang once more with a child's laugh. She knew that mama would have offered to raise the child for – with – her. Would have looked after a little one while she worked, so that she wouldn't have to give up all that she had worked for, but there was no chance of that now. There was no mama with her soft words, no arms to hold her. There was just this cold empty office, and the sickening fear that threatened to consume her whole.
And then she was no longer alone or at least not physically. The door opened, and Colette came in, a rectangular box in her hand. Zosia wanted nothing more than to scream at her, for the indiscretion of carrying the box in that way. Anyone she had passed would know what that box contained, and that somewhere in the hospital some poor girl was sitting waiting to find out if she had mucked up her life. Of course given it was Colette they would most likely assume it was one of the nurses but even so, it would only take someone having seen her enter or seeing her leave to put two and two together and work it out.
And really, there wasn't going to be anything to work out. She couldn't be. It was inconceivable that the white stick in that box could show anything other than a negative result. She'd always been the same, worrying herself sick over the stresses in her life and that was what she was doing now. She was already struggling, the pain of having him around and knowing that mama was no longer there. This was all just a mistake, a nightmare from which she would soon wake.
"Zosia," Colette's voice was soft as she tried to draw her from thoughts. Only her mind had no intentions of giving her any respite. Every possible thought seemed to be jostling within her brain for attention, each one thinking it was the most important while all she wanted was for everything to shut up, to leave her be. Perhaps this was her penance for being selfish, for not being there for mama. She had thought of herself, and her needs, her way of getting here and now she couldn't escape from herself.
"Doctor March," Colette tried again, and now she relinquishes her hold on the box placing it down on her desk. It drew Zosia's attention. How many women bought boxes just like that desperate each month for a positive result? Once, she imagined, her mama was one of those women, hoping that she would get to hold a second baby in her arms. And then there were the other women – and she supposed now she joined their ranks – who bought these tests in the desperate hope that it would confirm they weren't going to be mothers, that it was all a mistake. These little boxes held so much power over people's lives.
That little box scared her. She couldn't do this. She wasn't the person who should be sitting here. It wasn't her place. This was the chair in which one of Colette's nurses should sit having made a drunken mistake, and now they were having to find out if there was a lasting consequence to that action. She wasn't like them. She was careful, the one in control. She made sure that she wasn't ever going to be the one sitting here and yet she was here now. Despite the fact she could tell herself it was a mistake, a pointless exercise, still she was here.
Her stomach rolled once more and she struggled to control it. She needed to stop herself from thinking that was the only way to make this better. If she stopped thinking then she could stop worrying and then all of these problems would just disappear – unless …
Unless she was, she couldn't even bring herself to think the word. It was a ridiculous idea.
And then she couldn't hold it any longer. The rolling in her stomach intensified and she pushed herself as quickly as she could manage from the chair, and dashed in the direction of the nearest ladies. She hated herself for giving in to this, for finding herself leaning over the bowl of a toilet emptying the contents of her stomach. She was giving in to her body's tricks, and making herself weak.
She felt a hand fall against her back, while another caught her hair and pulled it away from her face. At one time she would have guessed it was her mama, and she would have felt comforted by the presence of someone being there for her. Mama would whisper those words once more, and though her stomach ached and her mouth burned with acid it would have made her feel better. Only this felt different, the presence wasn't as comforting.
"I think you know what you have to do," Though the words were gentle, they offered her no comfort. Taking that stupid test would at least get Colette off her back. She could get it over with, and then return to normal. She could forget that today had ever happened, that Colette had seen her like this.
"Can you leave me?" Zosia rocked back, now that she stomach seemed to have given up trying to catapult itself out of her body via her mouth. She didn't want Colette with her, she wanted her mama. She needed her mama. She felt Colette shift, lowering her body so that she was nearer her level.
"Can I trust you to take this?" The box is pressed in to one of her hands. It feels strange, and she has to force her fingers to curl around it, to take hold.
"Yes," her answer comes quietly, but she cannot bring herself to look at Colette.
"And you'll tell me the result?" She knew there would be no escape from that. Telling Colette was the only way to get her to leave her alone, to end this. If she didn't do it by choice, it would be dragged out of her regardless.
"Would you even give me a choice?" It's a slightly bitter response. In truth Colette has no business knowing, just as she had no business getting herself involved in this. She could have just left well alone, the way Zosia liked it.
"There's some mouthwash and things in my office," It's a slight change in the subject, but Zosia cannot help but appreciate it. There was no point in Colette answering the question, the answer already known to both of them. This just confirms it, Zosia knows that Colette would be waiting in the office for her but the offer of something to help disguise what has happened is touching.
"Thank you," The words feel alien on her tongue as she directs them towards Colette. She runs her fingers over the box without looking at it, feels the sharp edges of the corners that jab at her finger. Perhaps the box alone could do damage in the same way the stick it contains could destroy someone's life – with both of its possible results.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" She turns at that, trying to fix Colette with the best glare she can manage but it's something of a half-hearted attempt.
"Any idiot can piss on a stick," Heck even men can manage it, a fact she'd had confirmed during medical school when some of her male friends had thought it would be entertaining to take one of these tests. She never did quite understand the appeal of such an experiment but still, it proved a point – anyone could take it.
"You have a point," With a last pat on the back, Colette stood up and made her way out of the cubicle.
As she heard the door close, Zosia forced her body in to a standing position long enough to be able to push the door closed and to slip the lock. Settling herself down on the toilet, she studied the box once more. It wasn't one of the cheap ones, and that surprises her a little. It meant that Colette must have slipped out of the hospital and bought it rather than just slipping one from the supply cupboard.
When finally she had it unboxed she twirled the stick in her fingers, looking at the still blank window that in a few minutes time would give her a result. That little window that would tell her she wasn't. That she was stupid for even doing this.
The wait for the result seems to extend for a lifetime. She'd heard it said before, from friends who made mistakes that it was the longest three minutes of their life and she had always scoffed at them. But now she understood. She couldn't understand how three minutes could last so long, how each second could drag on for an eternity and yet outside of this tiny space the world would be carrying on at its usual speed. It had slowed only for her.
And then the little screen changes. She can't pinpoint the exact second it happens, or how it happened but suddenly there is no longer blank space. Instead her fate is spelled out in front of her eyes only she seems to have lost the ability to read. Her mind no longer seems to be able to decipher the letters in order to make words.
Only one thing is clear to her. There is only one word. There is no break between these squiggles that she knows to be letters. One word means only one thing. She swallows hard. She isn't. She can't be. And yet one word, one stick, says that she is.
She pulls free a piece of toilet paper and wraps it around the offending plastic article, no longer able to look at it before she barges free of that too small space. She doesn't even notice the fact that her breathing has altered, that it has become more ragged as she desperately tries to contain emotions that she doesn't understand. This wasn't supposed to happen, it isn't a part of her plan.
And then somehow she feels arms come around her body, and her head lowers coming to rest on the shoulder of someone she cannot see – her vision blurred by tears she hadn't even realised she was shedding. She allows the person to gently stroke at her back, and to hold her. It felt familiar and safe and she dissolves.
"I can't do this," Somehow she manages to sob out the words.
"Hush now," the voice tries to be soothing, and the pressure against her back increases that little bit more. Her vision clear enough for her to make out that whatever she is sobbing on to is green in colour, and with a jolt she realises that Colette had never really left her, that she had waited here probably knowing this was going to happen.
For a moment she allows herself to be held, to be comforted by this woman before she pushes herself away. It shouldn't be Colette here and she shouldn't let this happen. Swallowing hard, she forces herself to walk away without sorting her face, trying to work out where she can get too without being seen in order to do so.
As she walks away, she hears Colette's voice calling out after her, only she ignores it and carries on walking. But she knows, she's on borrowed time. Colette knows. She shouldn't have spoken, but for the briefest of moments it could have been mama holding her, for that second she had that comfort. But now she has the knowledge that Colette will be on her case, making her confront this and there is no escape from that. And all the while within her uterus an embryo is developing, embedding itself in her life, already stealing from her. And all she wanted was her mama's arms.