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I collapsed back in my bed, accidentally banging the back of my head against the top of the headboard, and I winced in pain.
Headache.
It had been five days since I’d unceremoniously kicked him out of my apartment on the pretext of an extreme contagion. I had gotten my physical space but felt more claustrophobic, strangled with the knowledge of what I was hiding. I’d thought I would have a clear head, be able to make some decisions, but in the past few days, I had made no progress. I didn’t even know how or where to start.
I survived on a few hours of sleep each night, plagued with nightmares that involved being run over by strollers and dropping babies on their heads. although, the days were much worse. Between the morning sickness—which was really around-the-clock sickness—and the lack of sleep, I was a walking zombie. I couldn’t concentrate at work, had to call off teaching yoga because I had no energy, and begged for a substitute for my art classes. I looked so haggard, no one had trouble believing I was sick, but I knew at some point I’d have to come clean.
Jason
I miss your face.
I could hear Jason’s playful tone in my head and imagined the crooked smile on his lips as he typed away. I wanted to hide from the text, from the world, from everything, and was about to bury my head under the covers when the doorbell rang. With a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I opened the door to my mother. Dressed in a long red coat and scarf, she held shopping bags at her sides.
“Gemma Rose, I didn’t know if you were dead or alive. You’re not answering any of my calls.”
I fell to the sofa, leaving my mother to invite herself in. “I’m alive.”
She pursed her lips. “You need to go back to the doctor. Whatever he put you on is not working, and we need you back to full strength for the party.”
“Party?” I yawned.
“You would know if you ever picked up your phone.”
I mocked her by showing I could physically pick up my cell phone.
“Honestly, Gemma,” She chided, setting shopping bags on the coffee table to rummage through them. “We’re planning a surprise birthday party for Jason.” She held up a glittering line of letters.
H-A-P-P-Y-B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y-!
I groaned. Great, to top off my week in self-exile, I needed to find a way to shut down this party. “Mom, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She scrutinized me with narrow eyes, her hands on her hips. “Why not? It’s your boyfriend’s birthday. This is the first time we can celebrate something together, all four of us, and I thought it would be nice to give him this gift.”
“It is.” I squirmed under her gaze. “It’s just that…” I picked at an imaginary pull in my blanket.
My mom sat down at my feet. “Honey, what’s wrong?” When I shrugged, she curved her hands around my calves. “I’ve never seen you like this. I don’t think this is the flu. Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”
“No.”
“Maybe it’s mono. Let me see your glands.”
I cracked when she reached for my throat, blurting out, “I’m pregnant!”
My mother’s hands froze halfway between us.
“I don’t have the flu. I don’t have mono. I don’t have meningitis or any other type of virus. I’m pregnant.”
Our eyes met. Both deep brown and brimming with tears, but Mom’s face lit up. “Gemmie, you’re having a baby. Oh my god! This is so wonderful!” She hugged me tight. “How do you feel?”
I heaved out a breath, closing my eyes while trying to discern my exact emotions. Fear and regret, then shame for feeling the first two. But mostly, panic.
None to be admitted out loud. “Fine, I guess.”
“Does Jason know?”
“No.”
She glared. “It is Jason’s, isn’t it, Gemma?”
