As each day passed it became more and more difficult for Miss Parker to get out of bed. She simply didn't feel like going through every mundane routine anymore, she even contemplated not wearing make-up a couple of times. She felt confident that her decision had been for the best, but why did it have to hurt so damn much?

She kept to herself most days now, throwing herself into whatever work she could find, not leaving much for Betty to do. Most mornings she would go into her office, passing Betty and not saying so much as a word and would work until around seven or eight, long after most people had gone home. She'd instructed Betty to tell anyone that came by that she was not to be disturbed.

Betty was doodling on a piece of paper when she looked up, just in time, to see Miss Parker vomit into the waste basket beside her desk. "Uh-oh" was all Betty said as she scurried into Miss Parker's office and instinctively pulled back her hair.

After a few minutes Miss Parker ceased to throw-up all over her day's trash. Not knowing what else to say, Betty asked, "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Miss Parker snapped. She grabbed the waste basket and began to stand up when a wave of dizziness stuck, and she had to grab the desk to steady herself.

"Clearly not." Betty retorted, as she picked up her keys out of her bag. "I'll drive you home."

"I'm not going home." Parker stated. She leaned over to place the heinous smelling trash can on the ground, when the dizziness came back, with ferocity.

Seeing Miss Parker nearly fall out of her chair, she persisted, "Stop being so obstinate and let me take you home, you're not getting any work done like this."

Miss Parker contemplated the idea for a moment. Betty was right, she wasn't getting anything done, and it's not like she goes home sick all the time, but she really didn't want to go to her house, not if he wasn't going to be there. She closed her eyes for a moment, debating.

"Come on." Betty coaxed, taking a step in the direction of the door.

Knowing Betty wasn't about to get off her case, she agreed to leave, "but I'm perfectly capable of driving myself."

Satisfied that she was at least going home, Betty dropped her keys back into her purse and put her hands up in defeat.

Miss Parker gathered her things and started walking toward the exit, but then stopped and slowly turned around. She looked thoroughly at Betty and started to say something but quickly closed her mouth.

She'd wanted to thank her, her mind screamed it, loud and clear, but she just couldn't bring herself to voice it. She simply nodded and turned to leave, hoping, that somehow, her message had been received.

Miss Parker readjusted her sunglasses as she pulled into a parking place outside the drug store. She'd been on her way home, when the thought popped into her head; was there a chance that she could be pregnant? No. There's no way, it's not possible. She tried to convince herself, Okay, so maybe it's a little bit possible, but how on earth was she supposed to go into that store?

She looked around to make sure there weren't any sweepers, or anyone from the Centre that might recognize her. She didn't see anyone. She readjusted her sunglasses, once again, and took a deep breath before stepping out of her car.

Once out of the car, Miss Parker walked briskly down the isles, not stopping until she'd located the pregnancy tests. Shit. There are a lot of different kinds. She quickly started grabbing as many as she could, for the sake of getting out quickly, and headed to the checkout.

She couldn't believe she was doing this. She dumped them all on the counter, but couldn't look the cashier in the eye. When the cashier gave her the total, she handed over a hundred dollar bill, saying "keep the change" as she grabbed the bag and rushed out the door.

That afternoon, after Miss Parker had left, Betty decided that after work, she would go check on her. She really hadn't looked well when she'd left and Betty was concerned about her.

Betty pulled into the drive outside Miss Parker's house, armed with chicken noodle soup and ginger ale. As she approached the door, she wondered if she had many visitors here, and assumed that she probably didn't.

The girl rang the bell and patiently waited for an answer. When there wasn't one, she decided to knock; maybe the bell didn't work, although she doubted that. After no one came, she tried the door and found it unlocked.

Betty stepped inside the find a very red-eyed Miss Parker lying on the sofa. Betty sighed. "I brought you some soup." She announced as she stepped closer.

Miss Parker jumped. "How'd you get in here?"

"The door was unlocked… no one answered… I…" she trailed off, for some reason, when she had barged in her home, she had forgotten that this Miss Parker was scary.

"How do you know where I live?"

"Oh...uh, Sydney, uh, told me. I told him I wanted to check on you, after you left, ya know, and he, uh, told me where you live and to call him if you needed anything."

Miss Parker, too tired to analyze what Betty had just said, simply nodded her head, an action she immediately regretted.

Betty stood there, awkward for a moment, before remembering what was in her hands. "Would you like some soup?" She offered, once more.

"I'm not really hungry."

"Oh, okay. How about some ginger ale? It's supposed to help when you have an upset stomach."

Miss Parker shifted her eyes around the room for a minute. At this point she was almost willing to try anything to get rid of the nausea. "Sure." She finally whispered.

Betty went and grabbed a glass, poured some of the soda into it, and handed it to Miss Parker, who took it readily.

"You wanna talk about it?" Betty suggested.

"Not really"

They sat in silence for a while before Miss Parker finally asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Taking care of me, when you don't even know what's wrong with me."

Betty shrugged. "I dunno, 'cause you're my friend, I guess."

That wasn't the answer Miss Parker had expected to hear, but she let the idea weigh for a moment. "My Friend" she whispered, almost inaudibly, testing it out. "But I don't know anything about you."

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, what are your parents like? Why do you always take the stairs and not the elevator? Why do you work for the Centre?"

Betty let out a small laugh. "I knew someone had been following me. I used to work, part-time, as a personal trainer. I taught my clients little shortcuts; like take the stairs, not the elevator, to park further away and walk, to sit up strait and not rest your back on the back of the seat, when you drive, that kinda thing.

"As far as parents go, I never really knew my mom and my Dad died when I was just a teenager. And working for the Centre? It's just a job; it doesn't pay too bad, either."

Wow.

Miss Parker was almost impressed with her willingness to share, but she was still puzzled. "I've never even been nice to you."

"You haven't ever really been mean either, at least, not like you are to people you don't like."

She guessed that was true. "I'm sorry about your dad."

Betty smiled, she recognized the gesture, "Thank you, luckily I was fortuned enough to have a real nice family take me in."

The silence came once again as they sat and Miss Parker, once more, felt the hot burn of the tears, threatening to fall. She couldn't hold it in any longer; she had to tell someone.

"I'm pregnant."