Page 41 of Set Me On Fire

Christmas Day preparation was instantly forgotten when she thought her baby was sick.

“Thanks again.” I forced myself to smile before dumping the bags on the kitchen table. Suddenly they were so damn heavy. “I’m just run down. I had a UTI, and the doc warned me I might get diarrhoea from the antibiotics, but damn…” My stomach rumbled ominously. “I’ve had a stomach bug that won’t go away. I’m hungry, but when I try to eat something, I either want to yack or I’m rushing to the loo.”

“Did you try some probiotics?”

She bustled over to the pantry, looking through all the lotions and potions she kept in stock for just this kind of thing.

“Yes, Mum, the ones you always recommend. They helped a bit and things settled down, but then I started getting sick again.”

“You need to see a doctor,” she said.

“Tried to, but everyone’s booked out. I’ve got an appointment after the new year?—”

“Oh, that’s too long to wait,” Mum insisted, then grabbed her keys. “I’ll take you to hospital.”

“For a stomach bug?” I plucked the keys from her grip and dumped them back into the bowl she kept her stuff in. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. It’s probably just my period.”

“Hello, love!”

Dad came walking in with a smile, coming over to give me a kiss.

“Millie’s been sick,” Mum told him.

“Gave it a bit of a nudge last night, did ya?” He cackled as he pulled back.

“She’s been sick for weeks and she can’t get into a doctor—” Mum’s voice was rising in octaves by the second.

“And is probably just premenstrual as fuck.” My hands went to my stomach. “I’m all bloated and my feet have swollen up like two sizes. My boobs?—”

Dad watched me grab my bust and then beat a hasty retreat.

“Sounds like this is a talk you need to have with your mother. The boys are outside. I’ll send Jamie in to get the meat from you.”

“You’d never think he’d spent most of his life with someone that had a uterus.” Mum shook her head slowly as he walked out the door to the pool area. “So, it’s just PMT?”

“PM blah.” I wrinkled my nose. “It couldn’t be perimenopause or something, could it?”

“At your age?” Mum scoffed at that, but as she moved towards the kitchen, she settled, going back to slicing vegetables for the salads.

“I dunno, this is like the worst premenstrual bullshit ever.”

I walked towards the fridge, pulling out a massive bowl of raw prawns. They tasted really nice when cooked, but I hated this part. The beady little eyes, the crunchy heads, and worst of all, deveining. I mean, pulling out the intestinal tract of crustaceans didn’t exactly fill me with the Christmas spirit, but this was somehow worse. The glisten of their cold flesh and the smell… Gag. Of course my bloody brothers were outside cooking meat or some bullshit.

“Like, I think I’m gonna ask one of the boys to do the prawns,” I told Mum.

She dismissed that idea with a wave of her hand.

“They’ll just mess it up.”

“They scale and fillet fish fine, Mum.” I set the bowl down on the bench and pulled out the small knife we used for this process. “Maybe I can turn chops and sausages on the barbeque this Christmas or?—”

“Hey!”

The door slid open and Jamie came walking in with a tray full of barbequed fruit. Dad loved to use a bit of brown sugar and caramelise it. My mouth watered as I spied pineapple and peaches and… Oh, nah, my mouth kept on filling, now withbile. I swallowed hard and then poured myself a glass of water, downing that quickly to ensure the nausea passed.

“You’re here!” Jamie came and gave me a hug. “I haven’t seen you in ages. You still down to come to the housewarming?”

“A party commemorating you shacking up with my brothers?” I bumped her with my hip. “Damn straight. I’ll bring enough booze to drown a horse.”

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