The boat sways back and forth on the water as we sit anchored in the middle of the lake. The music is blaring and everyone is having a great time while I’m in the back of the boat, crunched over the side being sick. This is the fourth time since we’ve been on the water that I’ve thrown up and nothing’s helping. My friend, Danny, hands me a tablet of his seasickness medication and smiles. “Don’t worry, honey, you’ll be okay once we’re docked.” I nod as I swallow the quite large pill only to throw it up moments later over the edge. Five.

Being the party-pooper, we call it a day. I am exhausted, sun burnt and my throat kills. Amie holds my hand as we head to land. My stomach churns; the sensation of being sick again slowly coming back to me. I shove a saltine cracker in my mouth and cover my face up with my towel. “Sorry I ruined the day, guys.” I say once we get back to the boat launch. Danny offers to take my stuff to the car while I crouch over the side of the dock. Six.

I look at the time and groan. Only three in the afternoon and everyone’s already packing up. I’m such an asshole. I hold my stomach as lean against a wooden post. Amie rubs my back slowly, “you need to go to the doctors if this doesn’t go away by tomorrow.” I nod as I close my eyes, trying my best not to be sick again. She places her cold hand on my forehead and assures me that I don’t feel like I’m running a fever, bringing me slight comfort. Taking my hand, she guides me to her Jeep and lets me get in before she shuts the door. I wave to everyone as they finish up getting the boat on the trailer before we drive off in the direction of home.

“I don’t understand it,” I begin, looking out the window as we drive on the highway. “I’ve never gotten seasick before.”

“You probably just have some sort of flu. It’s going around in the office.”

“Food poisoning, maybe?” I sigh and remain quiet for the rest of the ride home. Amie commands me to go into the house while she brings everything in. I try to fight with her but she gives me a glare. I lower my head and let myself into the house that the two of us rent out. I throw the keys down in the small bowl that sits on a small table next to the door before going up the stairs and into the bathroom. Seven. Eight. Sick of being sick, I give up. I throw myself into my bed and curl up into a ball, holding my stomach for dear life.

*****

The sun pours into my bedroom and blinds me as I open my eyes. I instantly forget about my eyes burning as I feel the sensation building up. I lean up out of bed, throwing my covers onto the floor. I hug the toilet seat tightly, praying that it doesn’t abandon me right now. Nine. I hear Amie knock softly on the door and ask me if I’m okay. I make inhumane noises as I get sick. I wipe the beads of sweat that formed on my forehead and take a swig of mouthwash. Spitting out the purple, burning liquid I sigh. Amie lets herself into the bathroom. She hands me my phone, my doctor’s number already dialed. What would I do without her?

I sit impatiently on the cold, papered bed in the doctor’s office. They had run tests on me, asked me questions, and leave waiting. I slide down onto the floor about to slip my shoes back on but I’m interrupted by the door cracking open. “Sydney?” Dr. Strouse says as she lets herself into the generic room. I take my place on the uncomfortable bed, waiting for her to speak. “I apologize for the wait, but we did find out what’s the matter.” I look at her, wanting the words to just come out. “I’m thinking congrats are in order.” She smiles as me. I continue to stare at her, confused at her remark.

“Congrats? Don’t I have the flu?”

“You’re pregnant.”

Notes

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