Page 60 of Unexpecting

″I’m sorry?” I thought I needed to get to a toilet very quickly. I thought I was going to vomit.

″The subway. We were talking about Harry Potter—”

The cute guy on the subway? Of course. I’d think this was a neat coincidence if I wasn’t about to throw up on his shoes.

″Oh, yeah. Listen, can you hang on a second?” Leaving him hanging there, holding the bottle of wine, I headed behind the cash register, not three feet away, at a run, where I knew there was a garbage can. It’d have to do. There was no time to go to the bathroom.

I bent behind the counter, grabbed the can, and loudly emptied my stomach into it. It wasn’t much, since I hadn’t eaten much all morning, but enough to make a mess in the garbage bag. Then I retched for a couple of minutes until I finally stood upright and leaned weakly on the counter. My face was damp with sweat, and I rubbed my forehead weakly. “Sorry.”

The cute subway guy was looking at me with concern. “Are you okay?”

″I’m so sorry.” I desperately wished for a piece of gum. I took a sip from my bottle of water. Not too much, because I didn’t think it would stay down. “I’m really sorry. I just—do you want me to ring that up for you?”

″Uh, no.” He placed the bottle gently on the shelf. “Are you okay? Do you want to sit down or something?”

I leaned weakly on the counter. At least my stomach felt a bit better, which was good because nothing else did. “I’m okay. I feel a little better. I’m just—sorry. This is pretty embarrassing.”

″Don’t worry about it. I’m actually a doctor.”

″Really?” My skepticism came through loud and clear, and he laughed. He looked to be no older than nineteen. I was thinking of carding him when he bought the wine.

″Really. Why don’t you sit down? Is there something I can do for you?”

″Get me a new garbage pail? I’m fine. Let me ring that wine up for you.” I stood upright. The nausea was fading quickly, and only the humiliation remained. I thought my whole body must be red.

″I can come back for it later.”

I gave a weak wave. “I feel better—really. I guess I just needed to throw up.”

″Always makes me feel better. Do you have the flu?” He grabbed three bottles of the sauvignon I showed him earlier and brought them to the cash register.

″No,” I told him, scanning the bottles. “I’m pregnant.” That was the first time I told anyone I didn’t know. It was the first time I admitted it to a stranger, and I smiled as I tested it out again. “I’m pregnant.”

″Congratulations. Morning sickness must be a bitch.”

I gave a weak laugh. “It’s my first morning with it, and if the next couple months are anything like this, yes, it might be a bitch.”

″Good luck with everything,” he said as I handed him his bag. “It’s great news.”

″Thanks. You know, you saying that means more than you know. In fact, you just made me feel a whole lot better.” I smiled at him, my first true smile of the morning. Despite the utter humiliation of my having thrown up in front of such a cute stranger, my Harry Potter-lover from the subway had just turned into a ray of sunshine.

″Always happy to help.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Relationships can often be strained during pregnancy since not all those closely connected with the expectant mother display the support they should, due to fear of how a baby will affect the dynamics of the relationship and often because of jealousy.”

A Young Woman’s Guide to the Joy of Impending Motherhood

Dr. Francine Pascal (1941)

Ifelt queasy againwhen I met Brit and Morgan after work at the dress designer’s for a fitting for the bridesmaid dresses. Morgan was just being zipped up into her dress when I showed up.

″It’s a beautiful colour,” she was telling Brit as I was shown in.

The dress was gorgeous, and I had to give myself some credit since I was with Brit when she found it. Well, found a picture of it in a magazine, but I went with her to the designer to get her to make it. It’s an amethyst colour, ankle-length, with a flowing skirt and an Empire waist with tiny iridescent straps. Simple, but very pretty. Plus the colour goes well with my hair, which is why I fought against the harvest orange which was Brit’s first colour choice.

″Hurry up and try your dress on,” Brit told me impatiently. I decided to humour her. I’d also decided not to pretend I was happy with her lack of excitement about my pregnancy, but that would wait until later.

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