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“No, no, no.” I waved my hands in defeat. “I’m a little—”
“She’s got a bug or something,” Jason said, tracing circles on the nape of my neck.
Even though I showered, I hadn’t bothered to wash my hair and had thrown it up in a bun. While Jason dressed inrealclothes, I couldn’t bear to put on anything other than a sweatshirt and leggings.
Mom stood up from the table. “Do you want me to make you soup? I can make you the kind you like with the stars.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” I was not fine. “Sit down, let’s eat.”
Frank clapped. “Yes, dig in!”
After everyone’s bellies were full—except for mine, I mostly ate a few forkfuls of sweet potatoes—we worked together to clear the table. My mother opened a Tupperware to place the leftovers in. “I hear Jason’s birthday is in a few weeks.”
“Twenty-eight.” I spooned the corn into a smaller bowl. “I’m dating an old man!”
He appeared next to me, sliding a gravy boat onto the counter, a lecherous grin on his pretty face. “Yeah, I’m a whole two and a half years older than you. Practically robbing the cradle.”
“What are you going to do for your big day?” Mom asked, placing glasses in the dishwasher.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s another day.”
She waved a fork in the air. “You two should do something special, maybe take a trip. A weekend getaway.”
“Who’s taking a trip?” Frank stepped into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator.
“Gem and Jason,” Mom answered before pivoting around to see her husband with his head buried in the freezer. “And what are you doing? We just ate.”
“Looking for dessert. I need vanilla ice cream with my apple pie.”
As Frank and my mom bickered about when to bring out the pies, I attempted to finish cleaning up, but as I forked the turkey into a plastic container, the smell churned my insides. I dropped the greasy meat into the sink before yanking open the cabinet and vomiting my guts into the garbage bin.
“Gemma! Honey, are you okay?”
After a few moments, I steadied myself and reached for the faucet to rinse my mouth out with cold water.
“She’s been sick for two days,” Jason informed her, and my mother clucked her tongue behind me.
“You should make an appointment with the doctor.”
Jason agreed. “That’s what I told her.”
“Maybe she’s pregnant,” Frank joked, munching on the forgotten turkey.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Gem
“You’re pregnant. Congratulations!”
My heart skipped. “I’m what?”
The doctor pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “About six or seven weeks along, I’d say, but you’ll need to make an appointment with your OB/GYN to know for sure. Get an ultrasound.”
Having convinced myself it was the flu, I had suffered through one week of the daily vomiting, sometimes multiple times a day, before I’d gone to the local urgent care. It wasn’t until the nurse asked me when my last period was that I officially started to freak out.
And now that I’d received the news, the walls had begun to close in. Everything got a little hazy, a little gray, and the paper cover of the cold table stuck to my sweaty palms when I tried to stand. The doctor was going on about morning sickness and vitamins when I threw up all over the linoleum floor.
The next few minutes blurred as a nurse rushed in to help. My body responded to the directions given, but my mind had totally shut down. A far-off voice told me to “Sit down. Put your head between your legs. Breathe deep. Sip this water.” But it all sounded like the teacher fromCharlie Brown.
