Page 36 of Forever Christmas
She nods. “I knew better than to eat one on a day like this.”
Relief washes over me that she’s accepting my explanation. But I am still in misery. And too embarrassed to go back in where Grandma K is trying to clean herself up. God. Her son is having heart surgery and her granddaughter-in-law wouldhave to puke on her.
I want to crawl in a hole.
“Maybe Dad should take you home,” she says.
“But it’s an hour away,” I say. “And you’re here.”
“I’ll be fine. He can come for me later, or I can stay here with Alaina.” She presses her mouth in a tight line, and I know she’s realized this means she won’t get to spend this time with me. We’re only here for a few days. We can’t afford for Gavinto take off more than that. Plus my summer classes.
My stomach heaves again, and I cough over the sink.
Mom frowns. “You’d think you’d feel better once the food was out.”
I have to pull myself together. I tug another paper towel out, wet it, and place it against my head. “No telling,” I say.
“We should stay in here until it passes.”
“Probably.” Except it might not pass for a while. I remembermarathon morning sickness with Finn, lying on the bed with my head hanging off, trash can directly below.
“Can you get to the car?” she asks.
I nod.
“Let me get your father. We’ll get you down.”
“Okay.”
She heads out again.
God. This is too much. Maybe I should confess. My stomach sucks in, twisting, heaving. I cough into the sink, futilely. Come on, baby, please. Stop.
I remember morningswith Finn when Gavin would bring me crackers right as I woke up. Eating something simple could ward off the worst of it. I’d forgotten those times. How sick I could get.
I had no idea at the time that those were the best days.
These might be the best days now.
I stand up, twisting my hair in a knot and tucking it in on itself. I can pull myself together. Mind over stomach.
Six or seven morepaper towels would make a decent stash for the car. I fold them together and stick them in my purse. Then I wet a couple more and tuck them inside the collar of my shirt to keep my neck cool. That helps, I remember doing it before.
I rinse out my mouth a few times and stand up straight.
Corabelle Rotheford Mays, you are going to walk out of here, get in the car, and be absolutely fine untilyou get home.
I nod at myself and open the bathroom door.
Mom and Dad are already coming down the hall, looking serious.
“How are you feeling, Tinker Bell?” Dad asks.
“Better now.”
“You ready for me to take you home?”
“Yes. Is Grandma K all right?”
