I looked at him like he was totally nuts. “Not so bad? You sure about that?”Trailer trash orphanran through my mind again. Yeah, it could be that damn bad, and Frank knew it as well as I did.
I felt my stomach churn. I leaned back on the bed and pulled on my other shoe. I put the back of my hand to my forehead. No fever, just nerves. “You know, Frank, I don’t feel so great,” I said.
He put his arm around me, pulled me close, and kissed my cheek. “Look,” he said, “I’ve talked to her. I’ve told her that this is it.You’reit. If she can’t get along with you, then she won’t have me.”
I nodded and swallowed, my tongue feeling unusually thick in my mouth. “Okay,” I whispered, unconvinced.
As I climbed in the front seat of his T-bird, a wave of nausea passed over me again.
I closed my eyes. “Frank,” I said. “I’m serious. I really don’t feel good.”
He squeezed my hand. “Babe, it’s just my mom. She’s sixty-eight years old, for heaven’s sake. She’s not that scary anymore.”
“Women get scarier as they get older,” I said under my breath. Whatever. I had let her take Frank away from me once. I wouldn’t do it again.
We pulled into the parking lot of the club, my head spinning.Get it together,I told myself.
Frank stepped out of the car, and I took a deep breath, trying to swallow away that queasy feeling. I took a sip of the water in my cup holder and scooted out of the T-bird as ladylike as I could muster in that pink dress that was too narrow at the bottom to really move right.
It was a gorgeous day, but the hot sun turned my stomach even more. I leaned over for a second, my hands on the car.
“Babe? You really don’t feel good, do you?”
I shook my head. Then it hit me. Wagner’s throw-up virus. Hadn’t been sick in fifteen years, and today of all days… I was getting ready to tell Frank I needed to go home when I heard, “Yoo-hoo, Frank!” and saw his mother, wearing a pale-blue suit. I pinned on a fake smile.
“Well, hello, Diana,” she said as we made our way down the stone path toward the dining patio. I knew already I couldn’t eat anything. We were only a few steps away from the door, thank the Lord. Because, as I started to say hello to Frank’s mom, I felt bile finally rise in the back of my throat. I beelined through the door and into the bathroom, thankful that I had spent quite a bit of time here this summer and had the place pretty well mapped out.
I wanted to be embarrassed and sad that I had ruined this day, but I felt so horrible that I couldn’t be. Frank was waiting outside the door; mercifully, his mother was not.
He squeezed my shoulder. “Lose your lunch before you had it?”
I nodded. “Please take me home.”
I didn’t even care where his mother was. I was to that point where the sickness was all I could think about. Frank tucked me into bed and brought me a Sprite, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it down.
The next day, I was still getting sick sporadically. “Twenty-four-hour bug, my ass,” I said, as Frank hoisted my weak dish towel of a body into the T-bird.
“You will go to the doctor today,” he had insisted. “At the very least, you need some fluids and some Phenergan. This is ridiculous.”
I had finally agreed because I was too miserable not to.
A few minutes later I was climbing up onto the doctor’s table. Evidently this bug was spreading like wildfire, and they were making special arrangements to get patients seen quickly so they could go back home and vomit in private.
“I’m going to run a few quick tests,” Dr. Gold said when he came in the room, looking exhausted and flustered. “I’m sure it’s just this virus, but we need to be certain we aren’t looking at a bigger culprit.”
I dutifully followed him for testing, and was back in the exam room a few minutes later, lying on the crinkly white sheet. Frank kissed my hand and said, “You’re the bravest woman I know. Do you know that?”
I smiled weakly and heard my phone ding. I motioned for Frank to see who it was. He laughed. “Gray sure does feel bad about how sick you are.”
“It is her fault,” I mumbled. But I didn’t mean it. How many times had she told me to stay out of that house? Stubborn old mule, I was.
A soft rap on the door immediately preceded Dr. Gold flying back into the room. He sat down on a stool with his clipboard and said, “Well, Diana, it is definitely something bigger than a virus.”
I sat up, alarmed. “What do you mean? Do I have E. coli or something? A parasite?”
He shook his head gravely, and my heart sank. It was cancer. I had stomach cancer. I had finally gotten Frank back after all these years. I was finally living the life I had always dreamed of, and now I was going to die.
“Kids,” he said, “you’re having a baby.”
