“Why didn’t you say something over the phone?” Georgie asked, dabbing at her eyes with the tissues after quietly blowing her nose. We were in the guest room at my house, and Ginger was sound asleep in my bed, where she’d been for the last two hours. Something about playing with Georgie wore her out, and she’d been done early tonight.

 

Then again, she seemed to be tired a lot lately, and I worried that the lack of contact with her father had already affected her mental disposition. I saw early signs of depression, and I had to get my own emotions under control so I could help her with any of her issues. It hadn’t been long, only ten days, and we’d kept the goodbye cheerful for Ginger’s sake, but it was also only ten days ‘til Christmas, and she’d already questioned why it couldn’t wait until after the holidays.

 

I’d had some issues with that, too, but I didn’t ask. I assumed there were limitations to how long the system would wait to lock the door with the ‘monster’ inside. I’d accepted what I had to and moved on the best I could, and now that Georgie was here, I finally saw the beautiful smile shine on Ginger’s face again and had hope.

 

“I couldn’t talk about all of this over the phone.” I wrapped my arms around my knees as I drew them up to my chin. “It’s so much to take in for me. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, since you haven’t been living it like I have.”

 

“You shouldn’t have handled it alone, Mari. Why didn’t you ask me to come sooner?” she pressed.

 

I blushed. “Honestly, I didn’t think you would.” Her jaw dropped, and I explained, “You’re my sister, Georgie, and I love you, but you have some selfish tendencies, and you’re a little flighty. I want your help, but I can’t risk you getting restless and taking off in the middle of all this.”

 

“Is that what you think of me?” She looked devastated and hurt, but I couldn’t apologize, not right then. I had too many other problems to worry about that were more pertinent than coddling her feelings. She shook her head and sniffled. “I’m not going to flake on you, Mari. If you need me, I’m going to be right here with you, the whole time. I’d like to think I’m good for you and for the baby girl in there. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll be here.”

 

“That’s what I need,” I nodded. “I need you here with me, helping me with school and appointments and babysitting and sometimes maybe just letting my cry on your shoulder.”

 

“I can handle all of that,” she said, sounding excited now. “Mari, I am a grownup and I can act like one. Oh, but there’s one exception,” she said with a warning look. “Unless you’re willing to teach me, don’t ask me to cook anything that involves more than microwave instructions.”

 

I actually laughed at that. “Mom always said you were a lost cause. I don’t know if you can be taught.”

 

“I’m just saying, I’m open to lessons.” She was practically bouncing on the bed, and I could see the mischief in her eyes. I wasn’t sure I was ready for whatever was going to pop out of her mouth, especially since it would come straight from her head, completely unfiltered. “I have to ask you a question, though.”

 

I hedged, “Go ahead, I guess.”

 

“How do those conjugal visit things work?” I threw a pillow at her as she burst into giggles. “Oh, come on! Someone had to break through the dark cloud of doom, and I’m pretty sure that nasty mood hanging over your head just shattered into a million tiny pieces so the sun could poke through.” She laughed again. “Poked! Ha, I kill myself!”

 

I wanted to kill her. She had managed to lighten the mood but also brought up a sore spot for me. “Yeah, you’re a riot. But there won’t be any conjugal visits. In fact, there won’t be any visits at all.”

 

“What!”

 

I hushed her quickly. The last thing I needed tonight was for Ginger to wake up and wander in during this discussion. I explained Dawson’s point of view, and she shook her head. “I guess that makes sense, but it sucks for you and that little girl. What if he looks completely different when he gets out? I mean, a lot of men age fast. Oh!” Her face flushed. “A lot of men spend a lot of their time working out. Mari, that man has the hottest body ever already. But he could come out totally ripped, like some action movie hero.” She looked like she might swoon. “You’ll have to forgive me if I stare and maybe drool a little.”

 

She wouldn’t be the only one. “You have two years before that, at least. And I’ll be so glad to see him I won’t care if he looks like he’s just been released from a concentration camp. I’ll just have to feed him really well until he thickens back up.” The thought of food made my stomach growl loudly, and I scowled. I’d been trying to ignore my outrageous appetite, my clothes that had been loose after I was sick now almost too tight.

 

“I think someone needs to have a snack,” Georgie said, climbing off the bed. “Let’s go pop some popcorn and watch a movie.”

 

I thought about arguing, but my stomach seized with hunger, and I followed, knowing it was a bad idea but that I would feel sick again if I didn’t eat. It was a cycle I couldn’t seem to break out of, no matter how hard I tried. While Georgie stuck a bag in the microwave, I reached into the fridge and pulled out two cups of chocolate pudding, ready to devour them both before the popcorn was ready.

 

“Damn, I underestimated your appetite,” Georgie laughed. “I wish I could put away food like that and keep your figure.”

 

I rolled my eyes. “My figure has gotten a little thicker than I’d like,” I admitted out loud for the first time.

 

Georgie shrugged. “It’s the holidays. It happens. But you look good. Your face is fuller than it was three weeks ago, and it looks good on you.” She eyed me more carefully. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and you’re really stressed out, but you’ve got good color to your skin, so I’m not as worried as I would be otherwise.”

 

I didn’t comment on that as I finished one pudding and opened the other. “I’m glad you’re here, Georgie. I feel like I’ve always been the one who’s reasonable and logical, and you’re the dreamer. But if I’m going to get through this, I need to do a little dreaming myself. And I think you’ll actually keep me grounded enough that I can do that without losing sight of reality.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” she told me, looking more serious and supportive than I ever remembered her being before. “We all have to take on roles we aren’t used to at some point in our lives. It’ll do me some good to be reliable and have responsibility on my shoulders.” The microwave beeped, and she went about dumping the hot popcorn into a bowl, my mouth watering at the buttery scent. “Well, I hadn’t planned on staying for Christmas, but I think the best thing to do is call the airline and quit and then find something local. Maybe a nice desk job, like a receptionist.”

 

“I don’t want you to give up your career,” I said, but then, I didn’t know if I could handle Georgie flying off all the time and being gone for a week at a time sometimes.

 

She waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I haven’t been doing it long enough to call it a career yet. And I’ll find something else that interests me. Or if I don’t, I can go back to it when all of this is done. You’re my sister, and family comes first. It’s important to me to be here.”

 

On impulse, I hugged her, and she hugged me back. But the smell of her scented oil bothered me, and the pudding I’d just finished seemed to curdle instantly in my stomach. I pulled away, the nausea coming on so fast and strong that I nearly doubled over and had to grab the counter for support “Mari, are you all right?” she asked, touching my shoulder and sounding panicked.

 

I nodded and managed to grunt, “It’ll pass in a minute.” I took large gulps of air, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, and slowly, the nausea subsided. I straightened and turned toward the popcorn, inhaling the aroma of butter and blessed carbs. “That’s better,” I whispered.

 

“If you’re still sick, you have to see a doctor, Mari,” Georgie insisted as she followed me into the living room. I carried the bowl of popcorn with me, focusing on the smell and trying to ignore her pestering. “It’s not normal to randomly get nauseous for weeks on end. What if you have a really bad virus? Or something like Ebola?”

 

“I don’t have Ebola,” I laughed. “I haven’t been out of the country, and neither have any of my students or their parents. It’s not just going to show up as an isolated case like that.”

 

“It could still be serious,” she pursued. “For all you know, you have a tumor. It could be anywhere, in your stomach or bowels or gall bladder or esophagus. It could be your liver or your kidneys. You should just…get checked out.”

 

“I don’t have a tumor,” I told her, my mirth dissipating as I stuffed kernels in my mouth.

 

“You can’t be sure of that!’ she insisted. “Anything could happen, and if it’s a tumor…”

 

“It’s not a tumor!” I cut her off, louder and harsher than I’d intended. She stared at me in awe. I never yelled like that, and I’d rarely shown her the side of me that got frustrated and angry.

 

She crossed her arms and scowled at me, hurt and worried, and I felt terrible for snapping, but I also felt like she’d pushed me into it with her nagging. In a low voice, she asked, “If you’re so sure it’s not cancer, then what do you think it is?”

 

She wouldn’t turn away, and I knew my sister. Georgie wouldn’t give up until she got a response. I sighed and put the bowl on the coffee table, resting my elbows on my knees and covering my face with my hands. I was too tired to fight anymore, so I told her. “It’s not a tumor, Georgie, I promise. I’m not going to die, and I don’t need chemo or radiation. I’m pregnant.”