8
Denise - Well That Explains the Puking
Iwake up to light pouring into my bedroom from the open curtains. I guess I didn’t sleep long after all. I was so tired when I lay down after talking to Alex that I assumed it would be dark by the time I woke up.
I suppose I’d better go down and see if Ryder is still here or not. Not that I know what I will say to him if he is here. I still don’t know what I’m going to do about his confession of feelings for me. I had assumed that ship had sailed and I’ve worked hard to accept that nothing would ever happen between us. To find out now that he’s been feeling the same way all these years is a little too surreal.
I’m barely at the top of the stairs when the nausea overtakes me. I turn and run into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I puke. What the fuck? I was feeling so good before my nap; I thought I was better. I guess not though, since I’m here puking again.
I’m sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, waiting for the nausea to subside, when I hear the doorbell. Shit, talk about bad timing. But I’m sick so whoever it is can wait or leave. They ring the bell a few more times before finally giving up. Good, I don’t really want to deal with anyone today, anyway.
Just then my phone rings from where I left it in my bedroom. I have a feeling that the person calling is the same person who was ringing my doorbell, so I force myself to get up. I grab the same trash can I used earlier, just in case, and go grab the phone.
“Hello?” I didn’t even look to see who was calling this time.
“It’s Alex, I’m at your door. Come let me in. I brought breakfast,”she says before hanging up without even giving me a chance to answer. I take my phone and my bucket and go answer the door.
“What do you mean you brought breakfast?” I ask, finally cluing in to what she said on the phone. “It’s too late for coffee.” I say as I eye the tray of drinks she’s carrying along with the bag of food. Just the smell of it is making me feel nauseated again, so I step back.
“Girl, what?” she says while she brings everything into the kitchen. “It’s like 10:00am, it’s practically brunch time, but I figured mimosas weren’t a good idea after you were so sick yesterday.”
10:00am? I look at the time on my phone. She’s right, it is morning. That means I slept all evening and all night, for around sixteen hours, maybe more. I can’t even remember if I got up to the go the bathroom.
“Holy shit,” I say to her. “I knew I was tired after I talked to you, but I didn’t think I was tired enough to sleep right through to today.”
“You’ve been asleep since we got off the phone yesterday? I thought you said you were feeling better?” She pulls out breakfast sandwiches and bowls of fruit from the bag that she brought. The sandwiches smell weird but the fruit bowls look amazing, so I grab one of those and start eating it.
“I thought I was feeling better too but when I woke up a little bit ago I started throwing up again.” I pick up my bucket from the floor beside me to show her. “I was throwing up when you rang the doorbell so I had to bring a trash can in case of emergency.”
She looks so thoughtful for a minute, I can almost hear the gears turning. Her eyes take me in. She looks me up and down before speaking.
“So you were sick when you woke up yesterday?”
“Yup,” I say around a mouthful of pineapple. This fruit is so delicious I might just have to eat the other bowl too.
“Aaannnd you were sick this morning when you woke up?” She seems to be hinting at something, but I’m in no mood for guessing games today. “And you haven’t been feeling well for a while either, have you?”
“Yeah, why? What’s your point?”
“Denise.” She looks at me seriously and takes my fruit bowl and puts it on the counter. “You’ve been feeling off for a couple of months? You were sick, in the morning, yesterday and today? Sick. Morning.” She raises her eyebrows and opens her eyes wide while looking into my eyes. She shrugs a little, as if to say, ‘get it?’ But I don’t get it. And I want my fruit back.
“Alex, you better just come out and say it,” I tell her while I stuff a whole strawberry in my mouth. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
“Morning sickness, Denise. I think you might be knocked up.”
“What?! You’re insane. No, I am definitely not pregnant.” I think she would have been more likely to believe me if I hadn’t chosen that exact moment to be sick again. I’m so glad I thought to bring that bucket down with me, otherwise I’d be throwing up right onto the counter.
“Yeah, sure babe,” Alex says to me, then grabs her keys from the counter. “Tell you what, you sit here and relax. See if you can eat some more, and keep it down, and I’ll run to the drugstore. For a pregnancy test. For you. Because you seem pretty pregnant to me.”
“Ugh, fine,” I say, with my head still over the bucket. “But grab me an anti-nauseant while you’re there. Because when we find out that there’s no baby I’m going to need to stop throwing up so I can get back to work.”
“You got it,” she says, already on her way out the door. “I’ll ask the pharmacist if it’s OK for pregnant women to take before I buy it though.”
“I’m not pregnant!” I yell at the already closed door. “I can’t be.”
I just broke up with Andrew. I can’t be pregnant now, that would suck.
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