28. Julie
Julie
“My ability to turn good news into anxiety is rivaled only by my ability to turn anxiety into chin acne.” – Tina Fey, Bossypants
“ H i, honey.” Mom’s cheery voice greets me as soon as I open and shut the front door to my childhood home as fast as I can, trying to push the smell from the front porch out.
“Hi, Mom.” I try to inject as much lightness into mine but clearly fail because Mom flies out of the kitchen, a towel tucked into her apron as usual—today it’s with water lilies on it.
“Julie? What’s wrong?” She cradles my face, tilting it up this way and that, concern lacing hers.
“Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s anything horrible, I’ve just gotten this food poisoning that won’t go away.
” Speak of the devil, my stomach churns right that second and I stop, taking a deep breath that doesn’t help in the slightest because the scent of the mint she has growing on the front porch had clearly dug its little green, fuzzy paws into every freaking corner of this home.
“I wanted to see if you had anything to help with it?” I force the bile crawling up, down.
Whatever I knew of, doesn’t help. Ginger? Forget it, the scent alone sent me into the bathroom yesterday at work when I was making one of my tonics with it in there. I can’t even brush my teeth after I throw up. I thought minty flavors were good for nausea! I thought they help.
Not me, apparently, because it’s been killing me these past few days. Even now, when I’m feeling much better after throwing up last night’s dinner, my stomach is churning at the scent of the herb.
Mom is about to say something when I feel it.
I suck in another deep breath. Nope…there’s no holding this one back. “Hold that thought, Mom,” I mutter, clutching my hand over my mouth as I run to the bathroom down the hall.
I didn’t think there was anything left to throw up, but boy, am I wrong.
I close my eyes, tipping my head back against the wall at my back where I’ve been crouching for the past fifteen minutes since barely making it to the bathroom.
One deep breath, two, three, after a solid minute of this, I lift myself off the ground and turn on the tap.
I run my hands under the cold water and splash it over my face, gulping a mouthful in the process to get rid of the bile taste.
Knock, knock.
“Honey? How are you feeling?” Mom asks through the door, and I shut the water off, wipe my hands, and open it for her.
She immediately barrels inside cradling my face in her soft hands once more. “Oh, my poor baby girl. How long has been going on? Let’s go to the kitchen, I made you mint tea.”
I stop dead, shaking my head, my eyes wide. “Mom, please, no mint! That’s what sent me to the bathroom just now. I smelled it at your porch.”
Mom stops too, regarding me with her brows pulled together. “So how long did you say this was going on for?”
“I didn’t say yet. But…” I count in my head.
“I started feeling queasy about a week ago, and then the main act”—I motion behind me toward the bathroom—“started two days ago. It must’ve been that fish I had at LPs, I thought it smelled funny to me when we had dinner there last Sunday with Griff.
But he didn’t feel bad, so we couldn’t be sure.
But that’s the only thing I can think of.
We ate at home after that mostly.” I shut up when I realize Mom’s been too quiet.
Unnervingly so. And then out of nowhere, she reaches out and pokes at my breast.
“Ow!” I yelp. “Mom! What in the eight planets are you doing?” I clutch my hands over my boobs, protectively, frowning and then…tears well up in my eyes.
Why am I crying? It hurt but not that much. I shouldn’t be crying. This isn’t something to get emotional over.
But if I thought there would be an apology coming or at least a sorry expression, I’m dead wrong.
The woman smiles! She smiles , clapping her hands together as her blonde hair bounces around her shoulders.
“Sweet daisies, did you take too many gummies this morning?” I ask her, sniffling.
“Stay here, let me go dump the mint tea so it doesn’t trigger you again.” I don’t get to reply because she’s already out of my view, and a minute later I hear. “The coast is clear. The enemy has been dealt with.”
I roll my eyes, still clutching my boobs that are way too sore after just one small poke and stop in my tracks.
Slowly, instead of holding onto them, I start feeling and prodding myself.
I’ve been sore for days. I have no idea why it came to me just now, but I have been.
Yesterday, before Griffin had to go to his shift, we had sex and when he played with my boobs, it felt different.
“Julie?” Mom calls out but I just stand there, staring straight ahead but not seeing the wildflower wallpaper on the walls or the million pictures of me and Cal as kids.
“Honey.” Mom’s voice is a lot closer. I feel her hands around mine, but my mind is away.
“Mom,” I mutter warily. “I’ve been nauseous.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And my boobs are sore.”
“Seems like it.”
“And I’m crying for no reason right now.”
“Well, I did poke you. I’m sorry about that.” I feel her hand wiping the unnecessary tear off my cheek.
“But it didn’t hurt like that. I shouldn’t be crying. I’m overly emotional, aren’t I?”
“When I was pregnant with you, I’d cry over anything.”
Pregnant.
That’s the word that snaps me out of my stupor and life comes back into focus as I turn my head toward mom. “I-I’m not…I can’t be…I…I…” I stutter, my eyes feel like they’re about to pop open. “Pregnant…” This last part comes out as a whisper.
“Shh, honey. Come here.” The joyous expression she had on is once again replaced with concern as she winds her arm around my waist and drags me into the kitchen toward the round breakfast nook.
A moment later, there’s a warm cup of chamomile tea in front of me and I let out a sigh of relief when it doesn’t make my stomach queasy.
“Did you take a test?” Mom asks, and I shake my head.
“No. No, I haven’t. I hadn’t even considered this possibility.”
“I think you should. To be sure, although I can tell you without any tests that you are—one hundred percent—pregnant. Your aura is different.” She smiles sweetly, adoringly, and I burst into tears.
“Take that back, Mom. Please take that back. We can’t be pregnant yet.
We’re not ready. We’re taking it one day at a time and this is equivalent to skipping the whole high school experience before you’re off to college.
It’s like planting a seed and having the fruit ready to go the next morning. Or…or…”
“Julie bean, relax,” Mom says softly, laying a hand over my wildly gesturing one.
“Mom!” I wail. “I can’t even go get the test. As soon as Fifi sees it, the whole LC will know in the matter of minutes.”
“You don’t need to go to Fifi’s. I have plenty of those in the bathroom.”
“Why?” I wipe my nose, looking at her warily.
“I’m not that old, Julie.” She winks and the second it clicks in my head, I groan.
“Oh God, good for you and Dad, seriously. But please, do not go into details right now. There’s nothing else for me to throw up.”
Mom giggles. “Fine. One shock at a time for you.”
“Thank you.” I sigh.
“Go.”
“You know, maybe I should have another cup of tea?”
“Julie bean.”
“Also, I’m hungry. Crackers! Do you have those? They seem like a safe option right now.”
“Honey,” Mom says gently but stern. “There’s no point in delaying it. The tests are in the same bathroom you were in earlier. Go.”
She’s right. Nothing will magically change if I wait another minute or a hundred. And I need to know. I need to be sure before I really freak out.
It’s not the prospect of the baby that scares me. I’ve always dreamed of being a mother. It’s just not now. Not when we are taking it one day at a time. Not when Griffin is not there yet.
I’ve been ready since I decided he’s my husband at the age of nine. But him?
This is new for him. Fresh. All of it is.
Breathe in and out, Julie . Everything happens for a reason, okay? Just keep reminding yourself of that. The path has been laid for us, all we have to do is walk it.
With shaky hands, I close the door behind me and reach for the test under the sink.
Three minutes later, I’m not sure if I’m crying from happiness or devastation. But as I lay a hand over my flat stomach, I’m smiling. Through the tears, but I’m smiling.
There is a life inside me. A piece of Griffin and me, and no matter what, I’m happy and all I want right now are his reassuring, strong arms around me, telling me it will be okay.
I pull the phone out from the front pocket of my overalls and dial.
It rings and rings and rings until it goes to voicemail.
He must be out, and I should hang up and wait to tell him later but the line beeps, indicating the start of the message and my words flow out of me, unhinged as I stare at the two pink lines on the test.
“Griffin! Please, pick up!” I sniffle. “Please, call me back. Or maybe I’ll just come see you. I-I…we need to talk. This…I swear, I didn’t know it would happen. I didn’t even consider it. I know we joked about it that night, but I didn’t think…” My voice pitches at the end. “Griff—”
A few things happen simultaneously.
My sentence gets cut off with a loud bang at the bathroom door as it flies open. I didn’t even lock it, and I doubt it’d help given the impact he hit it with.
Mom screeches somewhere behind the imposing body in front of me.
I stop breathing.
“I thought we agreed on one shock at a time, Mom,” I whisper numbly, the phone slipping from my hand as I stare at the furious wall of muscle that is my brother.
My. Brother.
Callum. Callum who is looking from my phone to the tiny strip with two pink lines in my trembling hands.
Back and forth. Back and forth until bloody murder is written all over the features he inherited from mom.
Blonde, curly hair that he keeps short, that slightly pointed tip of his nose and green eyes, that we share.
He’s not as huge as Jacob, but he’s lethal. That’s about the only thing I can gather before he growls like a wild animal. “What did that motherfucker do?”
“Who…” I halt. “Cal? You’re back?” I can’t stop staring at my brother whom I haven’t seen for over sixteen years.
“Julie, please tell me it’s not what I think it is.”
“It’s not what you think it is,” I throw out quickly, and his eyes narrow furthermore.
“You were always such a shit liar.”
“Clover! Language.” Of course, Mom would find this to be the right moment to chastise Cal for foul language using the middle name he’s always hated.
Sure, Mom, why not add fuel to this dumpster of fire.
Bad, bad joke, Julie! What if the fire crew comes out and Cal kills the father of my child before the poor guy even knows why.
“Mom?” I screech, worry laced through that one word, but she knows exactly what I’m asking for. She knows I need time to warn Griffin because clearly my brother isn’t stupid and put two and two together, but he doesn’t know the rest.
Actually, I’m not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing at this point.
All I know is I need to get to Griffin first.
“I guess I came back at the perfect time,” Cal mutters. “Don’t worry, sis, I know I haven’t been home for a while but I’ll deal with this.”
The frantic panic inside my stomach grows wings and takes flight but if you thought it was the kind that makes my feet move and run out the door while Mom holds Callum back…you were wrong.
No, all I have time to do is turn around before I’m throwing up again.
There’s a curse behind me and then Mom yells, “Callum Clover Lovinski! Where do you think you are going? You were gone for sixteen years, mister! I have lots to say before you take off again.”
“You can ground me later, Mom.” That’s all I hear before Mom lays her warm hand on my back, patting me soothingly.
“I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. Try to take a deep breath,” she tells me, but I can’t manage one. Not when I’m freaking out that I can’t hear my brother’s voice anymore.
“Wh-where is he?” I manage to ask in between heaving.
Mom sighs. “He’s too fast! By the time I looked over my shoulder that ninja was out the door and half-way across the garden.”
Amazing! Fantastic!
Really, Callum. Today? Out of all the days…
For Pete’s sake…what am I? Vomit central today?
Sorry, Griffin, no cute pregnancy reveal for you.
The most I can hope for at this point is that you live to see another day.