“Beuurk!”
Mission: failed.
My body jerks forward violently as the acidic contents of my stomach crash against my tongue and teeth. The stream is never-ending, working its way into my nasal cavity only to expel from my nostrils.
How many people have died choking on their own vomit? It can’t be many, and the vast majority were probably drunk.
As I retch, I pray I don’t become a data point.
Finally, the throb of my stomach relents, and I’m able to cough the rest of the contents into the bin.
Carmen hands me a bottle of water, which I take with a polite, “Thank you.”
She looks down at the mess I’ve created. “I’ll be right in to clean?—.”
“No, it’s fine. I got it.”
“Are you sure?” she says. I can’t help but notice the suspicious look on her face.
“I ate some bad sushi last night, and it’s given me hell ever since.”
She nods, but the suspicious look remains.
To drive my point home, I follow up with, “You wouldn’t believe how much I shit this morning.”
Her nose scrunches in disgust. “If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.”
She exits my office, flicking on the lights as she leaves.
Thankfully, my cabinet is stocked with cleaning supplies and I make quick work of the mess.
Glaring down at my stomach, I say, “I thought we had an understanding. Momma has very important work to do, and you’re supposed to be giving me at least five more months to do it in.”
I look over at the packages Carmen misplaced on the workspace behind me, wishing they’d disappear.
How many women have countless nights of reckless sex for years and never suffer any consequences, while I have one shady night and it sends my life into a tailspin?
Ignoring the packages, I sit back down at my desk and look at my phone, finding a message from Toxic.
Over the last week, we’ve hardly exchanged more than a handful of words. The weight of the situation has probably landed on him, and regret has set in. He’s probably looking for a way out, which is tragic because I know what it’s like to miss a parent.
You have to understand. I never wanted this…
Just like my mother, I didn’t want this either, though I intend to handle the situation far differently from how she had.
Wanting to get the exchange over with, I open the message.
Toxic:Good Morning, beautiful! Sorry I haven’t messaged lately. I’ve been picking up as many shifts as I can to prepare for little droid. I’m sending over a schedule of where I’ll be over the next few months, in case you want to meet up for droid talk. I hope you like the gifts I sent. Have you made an appointment yet?
I blink at my screen, disbelieving what I’m reading.
But the words remain, however unlikely they are.
Holy Droids, he’s perfect.
That shouldn’t make me want to throw my phone through the glass door of my office, but it does.
Looking over my shoulder, I see the three packages piled on top of one another, tempting me when once they filled me with dread.
