Five days until Halloween
Corinne
God, I feel like shit.
I thought I was sick yesterday. Today, I’m twelve times worse. Even now, my mouth pools with saliva, and I want to vomit again. As I talk to Jacks on the phone, my words sound feathery because I feel like I’m going to faint. I lean against a wall as I talk, and I briefly consider going home.
“Yeah, Jude isn’t the happiest with me right now,” I admit to her. “I’ve been working a lot, and he’s pissed about it.”
“What? What in the hell?” My sister is outraged on my behalf. “You work hard so that he can piddle around in his therapist job. If he’d gone on to med school, too, you wouldn’t have to work so hard.”
I take a shaky breath and will the vomit to stay in my belly where it belongs. My breath even smells sick, which makes me feel sicker.
“That’s not fair,” I tell her firmly. “Jude never wanted to be a psychiatrist. You know that. He feels they just push pills, and he wants to actually help people. Don’t be mean on my account.”
“I’m not,” Jackie insists. “He just shouldn’t get mad at you for picking up the financial slack.”
“Jesus, Jackie. He makes plenty of money. That’s not an issue.”
“Well, whose side do you want me to be on, anyway?” She acts bewildered. “Yours or his?”
I sigh, exhaling a sick breath. “There aren’t sides. We’ve just been bickering about it. It’s fine. Everyone fights. Everyone gets over them. He took care of me yesterday when I was sick. It was nice.”
I pause and gag. I put my hand over my mouth.
“You don’t sound good, Co.” Jackie just now notices.
“I’m not feeling good,” I admit. “Like, at all.”
“I’ll let you go, then.” Jackie releases me. “Go get something to drink. Water will help flush out the bug, if you’ve got one.”
“Yeah.” I hang up and head for the nurses’ station, where Brock looks at me in concern. “You’re white as a ghost, Corinne. You should go home. I’ve got this here.”
“Are you sure?” I ask tiredly.
He nods. “Absolutely. Go get some rest. Have Jude make you some soup.”
I have to chuckle at that because Jude doesn’t cook. “Good idea.”
I trudge to the parking garage, and my feet feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each, and the breath coming in and out of my mouth tastes sick.
“Great,” I mutter as I start my car. Wouldn’t you know...the one time I didn’t have time to get my flu shot in years.
I feel a wave of nausea well, and I barely stumble out of my car before I vomit all over the ground. Orange and pink chunks splatter, remnants of orange juice and grapefruit pieces, and the acid in my mouth is vile. I wipe my lips, and my forehead is beaded in sticky sweat.
I shiver as the breeze hits my damp skin, and there’s a noise.
I startle, because I’m alone, but the loud clap came from the shadows.
“Hello?” I call out, and the darkness is ominous and huge.
No one answers.
“Ed?” I call out the parking attendant’s name, and he doesn’t answer.
There’s another clap and then a crash, like trash cans knocking together.
I suddenly feel dizzy, so so dizzy, and I lean against my car.
“Dr. Cabot?”
A voice rings out through the emptiness, and I open my eyes. Lucy is walking toward me, her purse on her arm. “Are you okay, Corinne?”
My mouth pools again, and I shake my head before I vomit onto the pavement.
“Jesus,” she blurts out, and she jogs to my side, holding back my hair.
“Don’t get too close,” I tell her, wiping my mouth. “I’m pretty sure it’s the plague.”
“I don’t think you should be driving,” she tells me, looking me up and down. “You look like you’re about to fall over. Should I call Jude?”
I shake my head. “No. He stayed home with me yesterday, so he’s got a packed schedule today.”
“That does it. I’m taking you home. Stay right there. I’ll pick you up in a second.”
I don’t even argue. That’s how shitty I feel. She heads toward her car and comes back a few minutes later. I drop into the passenger side, my cheek resting against the cool window.
“Thank you,” I murmur. “God, I feel like I’m dying.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you to bed.”
I close my eyes, and she drives through traffic, into the suburbs and into my driveway. My sheets have never felt so good as I slide into them.
“I’ll let your dog out and bring you back some water. Can you call Jude? I don’t want you to be alone.”
“It’s just the flu, Luce,” I mumble, my face in my pillow because the coolness feels like Heaven. “I’ll be fine.”
“Just try to call him, okay?” Lucy disappears down the hall, and I hear the back door opening, then closing, as she takes Artie outside. I grab my phone without opening my eyes, fumbling around the nightstand.
I dial his number through slits in my eyes and wait. He doesn’t answer. I leave a voice mail.
“Babe, it’s me. I’m at home sick. Just letting you know. Don’t worry. Lucy is here, and for some reason, she doesn’t want to leave me alone. Call me when you get a chance.”
I hang up and close my eyes again.
“I’m so tired I’m going to die,” I moan to Lucy when she comes back in with water and aspirin.
“So your diagnosis is fatal fatigue?” She lifts a sculpted eyebrow, and if I didn’t feel so crappy, I’d laugh.
“Yes.”
I take the aspirin and a big drink of water. And then, just as the water hits my stomach, I have to vomit again. I lunge from the bed and race to the bathroom, barely making it. I hug the toilet afterward.
I heave and heave until there isn’t anything left to throw up. And it’s now, as I sit staring into the toilet, watching my orange-juice vomit float in the water, that something occurs to me.
My period is late.
“No,” I breathe aloud, and I recalculate, then recalculate again.
Numbly, I go back out to my bedroom, grab my phone and look at the calendar, and it’s true. It’s been five weeks since my last period. I’m a week late.
But I’m on the pill.
Did I forget to take it?
It’s entirely possible. Some days I’m so scatterbrained that I forget to eat.
I’m dumbfounded and motionless, and Lucy is staring at me.
“What’s wrong?”
I can’t feel my fingers. Or my toes. Or my tongue.
“I think... I think I’m pregnant.”
She stares at me wordlessly. “Are you sure?” she finally asks, and her reaction is strange.
“No, I’m not. But I think so. Maybe.”
“You work so much,” she says slowly. “I’m not sure a baby will fit into that life, Corinne. You’ll have to change things.”
“I know that,” I say stiffly, because where does she get off?
But then she shrieks, out of nowhere. “Oh my gosh, you’re pregnant!” And she hugs my neck and this is the reaction I was expecting.
“We should find out for sure,” she chitters, like a squirrel. “There’s a Walgreens down the road. I’m going to go get a test. Stay right here. I’ll be right back.”
She doesn’t even wait for a response. Instead, she’s sprinting for the door.
I don’t try to stop her. I just collapse back onto the bed in wonderment, my hand on my still-flat belly.
Is it possible?
I’ll find out soon enough.
Lucy comes back within twenty minutes.
“You must’ve broken land-speed records,” I tell her wryly as she bursts back into the room, ripping open the pregnancy test box. She doesn’t even try to deny it. Instead, she thrusts the white plastic stick at me.
“Go pee on this,” she demands. “Hurry up.”
“You’re so bossy,” I mutter, but I’m dying to know, too.
It can’t be.
But it might be.
Am I?
I have to know.
I have to.
I pee on the stick and pace around the bathroom, and within one minute, the second line turns pink. I’m stunned, and my fingers shake as I hold the test in my hand. I examine it. It hasn’t changed.
Lucy pokes her head in.
“And?”
I hold it up.
“Two lines,” I say limply. “Oh my God.”
A million things are going through my head. I’m happy, I’m scared, I’m terrified that my child might be afflicted with my father’s mental issues...all of it. But mostly, I can’t deny it, I’m excited.
“I’m going to have a baby,” I whisper, and my hand on my belly feels different now, because I know there’s a baby beneath it. “I’m pregnant.”
“You are,” Lucy agrees, sitting next to me with her arm around my shoulders. “And do you know what else? You’re pregnant. Your hormones are all wonky. All of the anxiety and panic you’ve been feeling lately...it could be attributed to your hormones, Corinne.”
I stare at her, stunned. “You’re right. Hormones can wreak havoc.”
She nods. “Yes. So there you go. One less thing to worry about.”
I smile slowly as the realization sinks in. I’m not crazy. It’s my hormones.
“Congratulations, Dr. Cabot.” Lucy grins. “I’m so so happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I say weakly, because, honestly, I’m feeling dizzy again. “I think I’ll lie back down and wait for Jude to come home.”
“Are you going to tell him tonight?” Lucy stands up and covers me with a blanket.
“I don’t know. Probably. He’ll be ecstatic.” And he will. He’s been wanting to start a family for as long as I can remember.
“Okay. Well, since I know you’re not at death’s door, I’ll leave you in peace. Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re going to have to take care of yourself now, you know,” she adds. “For the baby.”
I nod, and Lucy pecks me on the cheek. After she leaves, I try to call Jude again.
Still no answer.
I close my eyes and rest while I wait.