“Lacey, I really don’t feel well.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just nervous? Our final performance before the official meeting is tonight,” Lacey said.

“Something’s wrong. Actually wrong. Do you feel okay from last night?” I asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I’m thinking maybe I ate some bad pizza or something.”

“Oh shit. Do you have food poisoning?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Lacey. That’s why I want you to come over.”

“I’ve got some medicine. What are your symptoms?”

“I’m nauseous. Aching in my joints. My hips hurt like hell.”

“It sounds like you’re about to start your period,” she said.

“I know what starting my period feels like, Lacey. This isn’t it.”

“Period and nerves. Explains everything. Look, I’m on the fourth floor. I’ll go out to the store and grab us some things, get you some medicine, and I’ll be right up.”

“Why did they have to put us all in separate rooms for this performance?” I asked.

“Because we could afford it this time. Besides, it’s nice to spread out on a king-sized bed and not knock into your knobby knees.

“My knees are just fine, thank you very much.”

“Give me a half an hour and I’ll be up. Okay? In the meantime, try not to get too overdramatic. Periods suck. It happens.”

“This isn’t my period, Lacey.”

“It’s your period. Get over it. Time to learn how to perform through it. I’ll see you in a bit.”

I hung up my cell phone and burrowed back down into the covers. The nausea was bad enough, but the ache in my pelvis was too much. I knew what cramps felt like, and this wasn’t it. My bones hurt. That didn’t happen during a period. That wasn’t normal. Not even for me. And I’d been through some rough ones because of my birth defect.

I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. Everything I smelled made it worse. People passing by with pizzas in their hands and others with Chinese takeout. Women walking down the hallway with odorous perfumes that made me want to throw up on them to make the scent stop. It was overwhelming and I had no idea how I was going to sing on stage if I couldn’t get my body to start cooperating.

Which was why Lacey’s knock at the door was so relieving.

“Holy hell. You look like shit.”

“Still convinced it’s my period?” I asked.

“Yes. Now let me in so I can get you better for tonight.”

I let her in and she went charging for the bed. She opened up a bottle of pain medication and slipped three out. She handed them to me before popping open a bottle of water, and even the side of it made me crinkle my nose.

“Girl, if you can’t hold down water, tonight’s the least of your worries. Go on. Chug.”

“Fine,” I said.

The medicine and the water went down fine, but I still wasn’t convinced. I knew what my time of the month was supposed to feel like, and this wasn’t it. This was a lot different. The strength of the nausea and the sudden aversion to foods I usually enjoyed didn’t come with the territory of the monthly agony that was my period. But there I was, snubbing my nose at dairy-free ice cream.

Something I would usually inhale during times like these.

“You really must not be feeling well,” Lacey said.

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong,” I said.

“Do you want to go to a doctor? I think I saw an urgent care on the corner across from the pharmacy I went to.”

“I’m gonna need a coffin before this is all said and done.”

“There’s my lovely drama queen. Want me to try and distract you?”

“With what?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s talk about the meeting tomorrow morning.”

“I’m tired of hearing about that damn meeting.”

“Yikes. Let’s tuck in the emotions for a bit. Maybe that’s what your nervous about.”

“This isn’t nervous, Lacey. I’ve been performing long enough to know what nerves feel like.”

“I don’t know. That meeting is going to define the next five years of your life. I’m nervous about it and I’ve only stepped on stage as part of the chorus,” she said.

“Lacey, can it with the nerves.”

“Well if it isn’t your period and if it isn’t nerves, what other possibility is there?” she asked. “Because if you had food poisoning, I’d be washing you off in a bath right now.”

“I don’t know,” I said, groaning. “I just want it to go away.”

“Will you indulge me if I talk about the meeting tomorrow?” she asked.

“I don’t care if you talk about how much you hate avocados so long as you keep that ice cream away from me.”

“Avocados are bullshit. They have no taste, they’re full of fat, and they have this gross consistency. Like baby vomit.”

The image alone was enough to catapult me from the bed. I went dashing for the bathroom, throwing open the toilet lid just in time. Up came the water as well as what I had tried to eat for breakfast that morning in the hotel lobby. My stomach heaved and my body shook. My hands gripped the edges of the porcelain seat while my toes curled. I had to have food poisoning. Nothing should ever come out of a human’s body at that speed.

I felt a coolness descend on my neck before my hair was slid out of my way.

“Yeah, this isn’t nerves,” Lacey said.

“Told you,” I said breathlessly.

I felt another wave of nausea hit me as Lacey blew on the back of my neck. She pinned my hair back and rubbed up and down my spine, trying to get my body under control. Tears were forming in my eyes as I whimpered, the pathetic sound spilling forth as easily as breakfast had.

What was going on with me?

“It’s going to be okay,” Lacey said. “Everything’s fine.”

“I’m not fine,” I said as tears streaked my cheeks. “I’m not okay, Lacey.”

“Then we need to get you to a doctor. They’ll know what to do.”

I cleaned myself off at the sink before Lacey helped me into my jacket. She walked me down to the corner and we crossed the street, trying to shield ourselves from the crowd. We walked into the urgent care and signed ourselves in as I dug around in my purse for my insurance card.

Then fifteen minutes later, a nursing assistant was calling my name.

People tried to whip out their phones and take pictures, but the nurse ushered us back quickly. She took my height and weight. Wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm and took my temperature. I had to pee in a cup and get my finger pricked and go through all sorts of things that were jostling me around.

I tried to swallow down my nausea as the nurse dumped us in a room.

“I’m sure the doctor will be here soon,” Lacey said. “Do you want me to call anyone?”

“No,” I said. “Not until we know what’s going on. If there’s something I can take to get me through tonight, I want to take it.”

“You know I’m your understudy. That’s what I’m here for.”

“And you said it yourself. This is our last performance before that meeting tomorrow morning. I have to go on tonight.”

“So you are nervous about it.”

“Of course I’m nervous about it! But if I admitted that to you, then you would’ve brushed everything else off.”

“No I wouldn’t have,” she said.

I shot Lacey a look and she rolled her eyes.

“Okay, okay. I get your point. But we’re here, and I’m sure the doctor will have answers for us.”

“Did someone say ‘doctor’?”

A man’s voice hit my ears as the light turned on in the room. It sent my nausea into a tailspin, causing Lacey to reach for the trash can. She held it up to my face as I heaved into the basket, the doctor jotting notes in the corner. He was as calm and collected as he could have been, and it pissed me off.

Why did it make me so angry? He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“First off Miss Leone, my wife’s a fan. She was in New York and got last-minute tickets to your performance. Said it changed her life.”

“Thanks, doctor,” I said.

“Have you been feverish lately?” he asked.

“No.”

“Excessively tired?”

“Yes, but we’ve been traveling a lot, too.”

“Mood swings?”

“Yep,” Lacey said.

I shot her a look as the doctor chuckled.

“If you can, Miss Leone, I’m going to get you to sit up so I can give you a full exam. If that’s okay with you.”

“I’m due for my yearly physical, so why not.”

The doctor was kind while he did his exam. He checked my breasts for lumps and took a peek at the back of my throat. He listened to my heart beat as well as my chest, then checked my lungs and my diaphragm for any signs of malfunction. He tested my reflexes and examined my ears, then asked me a few questions on my past immunizations.

Then, he turned to me with a smile and clasped his hands.

“Well, you’re in peak physical condition, which will bode well for what I’m about to tell you,” he said.

“There’s nothing wrong with me?” I asked.

“Nothing’s wrong, Miss Leone. But I’m honored to be able to deliver the news.”

“What… what news?” Lacey asked.

“You’re pregnant,” the doctor said.

I felt anger bubbling in my gut as I clenched my jaw.

“That isn’t possible,” Lacey said.

“Oh, it is. Miss Leone, you’re pregnant. You’ll need an ultrasound to confirm how far along you are, but judging by your hCG levels, you’re between five and seven weeks,” the doctor said.

“This isn’t funny. What’s wrong with me?” I asked.

“I’m not joking,” the doctor said. “You’re pregnant.”

“That’s not possible. I have a bicornuate uterus.”

The doctor blinked at me before he jotted something down on his chart.

“Stay here,” he said. “Let me go get something.”

There was hustling and bustling outside. I felt the room tilting as Lacey helped me to lay down on the patient’s table. Pregnant? This was some sick, cruel joke. I couldn't get pregnant. Every doctor I’d ever seen for my condition said it wasn’t possible.

The door slammed open as the doctor came in with another nurse. They rolled this massive machine to the side of me before the doctor started rolling up my shirt. Everything was happening so fast and tears were blurring my vision. Flashes of that night with the man in my dressing room came crashing back to me in that moment.

Was it possible that he had gotten me pregnant?

A cool gel was squirted onto my skin and it ripped me back to reality. The doctor moved it around with this wand, then the machine beside me came to life. Lacey was holding my hand as a tear streaked down the side of my face, then a blurry white image popped up on the screen.

The doctor started typing on a keyboard, moving the wand around and taking snapshots.

“What is it?” I asked. “What am I looking at?”

“Give me a second…” the doctor said.

I squeezed the life out of Lacey’s hand as another image came upon the screen. A little bouncing bean in a small little cavern that wouldn’t stop moving long enough for me to take it in.

Then, I heard it.

A pulsating sound emanating from the machine’s speakers.

“Miss Leone-”

“Joanna,” I said breathlessly.

“Joanna. You’re right. You do have a bicornuate uterus. And it’s substantial. It almost splits your uterus in half. But it doesn’t make you sterile.”

“What?” I asked.

“A bicornuate uterus is a fairly new issue in medicine. It can be traced back to a faulty medication someone in your family took. More than likely, your grandmother. It’s passed down biologically. Does your mother have one?”

“I-I-I don’t… I don’t know. I’m… I’m adopted,” I said.

“Okay. Well, you’ll be a high risk pregnancy throughout the duration of it. I don’t know how things like this are handled with your lifestyle, but if you plan on keeping the child you’ll need to settle somewhere and get yourself set up with a specialized obstetrician.”

“I’m pregnant?” I asked.

“Hear that pulsing sound coming from the monitor?”

I looked back over at the image as the bouncing bean came back into view.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

My jaw began to tremble as a smile crossed my cheeks. Lacey squeezed my hand tighter than I ever thought she was capable of. Pregnant. I was pregnant. The one thing I never thought I’d be able to experience was happening. The room stopped spinning and my world stopped tilting, and the only thing that existed was me, that image, and that soft little sound.

The soft, rhythmic, musical sound of the heartbeat of my child.

“Pregnant,” I said with a whisper.

“I’m going to print these pictures out for you then get you some literature to read on. I’m also going to write you a prescription for three month’s worth of prenatal vitamins. You can pick them up at the pharmacy across the street.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Lacey said.

“I’ll also write you a prescription for something to help with your nausea. It’s safe for pregnant mothers and it’ll help you get through this first trimester.”

“Thanks, doctor,” I said.

The wand was put up and the gel was wiped off my body. Lacey helped me sit up as the doctor handed the black and white pictures to me. I couldn't stop looking at them. I couldn't stop smiling down at them. That small little jumping bean in the bubble on the picture was a child.

A living, breathing thing I never thought I’d be able to have.

“Joanna?”

“Huh?” I asked.

I panned my gaze up to Lacey as another tear streaked my cheek.

“What do you wanna do about tonight?” she asked.

Tonight.

The performance.

The Civic Opera House.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I-... I don’t know what I should do.”

And it was true. I wasn't sure what I should do. I was pregnant with a child I’d never thought I’d ever have by a man I’d never see again. Even if I could get my nausea under control, I only had six, maybe seven more months of performing before my pregnancy would take me off-stage. And that was if my birth defect didn’t mangle me sooner than that. The doctor came in and handed me a bag full of things before he gave me one last smile, then he exited the room to give us time to get ourselves together.

I didn’t know what to do.

Despite the happiness I felt at being pregnant, I was lost.