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I feel sad. “I know,” I say softly. “But you’re here for this one.”
“Do you think we’ll have a boy or a girl?” he asks me.
“A girl.”
“You’re sure?”
“No,” I say, and then I smile. “We’ll find out soon.”
J.R. kisses me again. “Soon.”
We’re getting dressed when I hear a bell begin to ring. I laugh as I pull my shirt over my head.
“Your mom was serious about having a dinner bell.”
J.R. laughs, too. “Hell, yeah. How else were we supposed to know when it was time to eat if we were out in the pastures?”
“You never stop surprising me,” I say, and then I kiss him. “Let’s go to dinner.”
Knox is setting the table when we walk into the brick house. The smell of something fried fills my nostrils, and I’m suddenly nauseated. Not just a little, but like I could toss my cookies at any minute.
Normally, this smell would leave my mouth watering, but not tonight. I blame the baby, and I decide that I’ll just have to force myself through it. Maybe I won’t puke.
Ellie delivers country fried steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans to the table. I take a seat, J.R. next to me and Knox on the other side. Roger and Ellie sit at the opposing heads of the table. I try not to focus on the fact that I think I could hurl at any moment, but it’s all I can think about as I try to avoid even looking at the food in front of me.
There is conversation going on around me, but I sip my water and pray that the nausea passes sooner rather than later and without incident.
“Rach? Are you okay?” J.R. asks me softly. Roger and Ellie continue their conversation.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I ask him, and I’ve slid my hand over my mouth just in case anything comes up from my stomach unannounced.
“Down the hall and to the left.” He’s looking at me strangely.
I can’t waste another second. I push my chair out from the table and flee down the hall. I barely make it when everything I’ve eaten today comes back up. All I can think about as I’m hugging the toilet is how extremely embarrassed I feel. What a sight it must have been to see me lunge from the table and sprint down the hall. I’m sure they can hear me as my body rejects any and all that is left in my stomach. Maybe I don’t care. It’s hard to care about much when you’re this close to a toilet. At least, it’s a clean toilet.
I hear a tap on the bathroom door, and then J.R. steps in. He’s hesitant, but he comes in further. “Rach, what’s wrong?”
“The fried food…” I throw up again, and J.R. takes my hair in his hands to hold it away from my face. When I recover, I finish my sentence. “It made me nauseated. The smell. I’m sorry.” I think I’m crying now, but I’m not sure why. Maybe tears are a natural side effect of vomiting.
I hear J.R. chuckle at me. “Don’t apologize for being pregnant.”
“It’s our first night here, and your mom cooked us dinner.” I’m sobbing now, and I can’t even control it.
“Rachel, it’s okay. She’ll understand. She’s been pregnant before.” He tries to reassure me, but it isn’t doing much good. Maybe I would be offended if someone was nauseated by my cooking. Not that I could blame them. I’m not much of a cook.
J.R. finds a clean wash rag in the linen closet, and then he runs it under the sink, soaking it with cold water. He kneels down in front of me, and he wipes my face gently. I watch his eyes as tears still pour from mine. “Maybe we should get dinner to go. It’s been a long day.”
“I don’t want you to miss out. I can just go back.”
“I’m going with you,” he says firmly. “Come on.” He pulls me up from the floor. J.R. smiles at me like he still thinks I’m the most beautiful person in the world, and I can’t understand it.
“Why do you love me so much?” I ask him with a smirk.
J.R. kisses my forehead. “I would kiss your mouth, but…”
“Ugh. No. Don’t.” I roll my eyes at myself.
J.R. takes my hand, and he leads me out of the bathroom.
