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I sent off a quick reply.
Have a client. My phone will be off for a bit.
How’s the nausea?
He just had to men
tion it. I closed my eyes against the first wave of cold sweats prickling my skin.
My wind chimes alert trilled from my speaker. I set up the reminder to give me time to ground and center before I interacted with a new energy.
Too bad the baby wasn’t into it.
I rolled onto my side as the wash of nausea had me covering my mouth.
Oh, no, not again.
I stumbled off the couch and ran for the bathroom, skidding on my knees to the bowl right before everything, including air from the last twenty years of my life, came up and out.
Holding on to the toilet, I prayed to every goddess I knew. Finally, the retching faded to dry heaves, and I sat back on my feet.
I didn’t even know what I had in me that could actually be thrown up at this point. I hadn’t eaten since dinner last night. Well, okay, I’d had goldfish crackers.
It was the only thing that didn’t make me immediately want to throw up. I guess that was off the menu too.
I reached up for the sink by the commode and hauled myself to my feet. I swayed a little and winced when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Dark circles and glue-white skin.
Oh, yeah, that was super cute for a video call.
Instead of looking at the horror story that was my face, I dunked my mouth under the faucet and rinsed away the sickness. After brushing my teeth and using copious amounts of mouthwash, I felt a bit better.
My hair was another story. Yikes. With very little help, I could have been an extra on The Walking Dead. If I’d had another half hour, I would have jumped in the shower. Dry shampoo wasn’t going to cut it. Not with the sweats that came before and after the dry heaves.
I padded into my bedroom and found a cute rainbow head scarf I wore in between hairdresser appointments. I was a natural blond, but with the super sunny summer we’d had, my hair had lightened to an almost platinum hue.
To Dye For would definitely be getting my business soon.
I paused as I tucked the silk behind my ear to hide my hair. Was hair dye bad for moms-to-be? I picked up my phone and made a note on my rapidly growing questions list.
Between Caleb’s intense research each night and my own spiral of near hysteria, my Notes app looked like I was writing a new and improved version of What to Expect When You’re Expecting.
After dusting on a bit of powder and some blush, I looked less like a corpse. I pulled on one of the kaftans Bess had bought me when she’d graduated from level one of my impromptu tarot class. The psychedelic rainbows and drunk sunflowers would distract the eye from the morning sickness chic thing I had going on.
I headed into the living room. Another wave of nausea had me bracing myself on the arm of the couch. Lucky me. I just needed some electrolytes. And since Pedialyte was my new best friend, we had a little date while I reviewed my notes for my client.
A love reading.
Just great. Exactly what I needed to be doing right now. I couldn’t even get my own brain in order on the subject, and I was supposed to give advice?
“Not about you, Lu,” I muttered to myself as I went over to my tarot deck wall and took out a few decks that called to me. And because Madeline, my client, was about as grounded as a hot air balloon, I snagged my Truth Bomb deck to help her check herself before she wrecked herself over whatever new guy she was contacting me to discuss.
Setting up my camera and backdrop took a few more minutes than it usually did because the room kept tilting. Finally, I gave up on making everything pretty and sat down, put my headphones on, then logged into Zoom.
Forty minutes wasn’t too bad. I could do anything for an hour.
Madeline’s sweet face came up on the screen. So earnest and full of that rosy glow of love. Her aura glowed hot pink. She didn’t need me to tell her she was in love today, that was for sure.
“Oh, Luna. Are you okay?”
