"Buckle up. Time for our first date to begin if you think we got all the mushy stuff out of the way?"
"Nothing wrong with the mushy stuff," he buckles up.
I pretend to yawn, thinking how much I'd like to hear what he'd like to do to me naked. "Although, I feel an early night coming on."
In around half an hour we reach the fairground.
The drive is fabulous in my new Fiat.
Once there, we both have the time of our lives doing normal things like eating too much candy and riding the rollercoaster.
Caleb wins me a giant cuddly toy of my choice by shooting several rows of plastic ducks, laughing triumphantly throughout. I choose a cuddly owl because it is beyond cute and reminds me of him, with its big blue eyes.
He admits he can see the attraction to fairgrounds now.
While we laugh on my favorite the Big Wheel, I see him brake away from the flock of flapping birds and join me, gliding through the clouds.
Epilogue
Twelve months later . . .
"Hey Betty, can you help me with the burgers?" I call her away from our pals on my way to the bathroom.
I've been back and forth all day, though I've tried to hide it as best I can.
I hate people making a fuss when I'm unwell – and I don’t feel that bad, just ill in the stomach.
"They'll be charcoal if they stay on the barbeque much longer and… oh crap," I cover my mouth, "I'm sick as a dog."
After running up to me wearing a pout, she whispers, "That's the third time this week you've been sick—that you've told me about—and you've been running to the toilet all day. You need to see a doctor, Em."
"No," I snap, making my way to the toilet with Betty hot on my heels.
When I go to close the door on her, she stops me and adds in a stern voice, "No arguments, you need a doctor."
"A doctor?" asks Caleb, appearing from nowhere, carrying a tray of empty glasses to refill for our guests.
He's taken to social gatherings of the less luxurious kind over the past twelve months.
Gone are the days of Gala Balls, thank heavens.
"You need a doctor, Em?" He winces, "You are pale come to think of it." Placing the back of his hands against my forehead for a temperature, he adds, "Too much sun? Do you need to lie down?"
"All I need is to…" I turn, run for the toilet.
After I wipe my mouth on tissue paper and turn to them both, hovering in the doorway. "Sorry, but please stop fussing. I'm sure it's just—"
Caleb raises his hand interrupting me, "I don't care what you're sure it is. I'm calling my doctor." Grabbing his cell from his back pocket, he punches in the numbers before holding it to his ear, "He'll come straight out if he ever answers."
"You got a doctor on-call?" Betty says to Caleb, clearly impressed. "Different worlds."
When I turn to see their eyes scrutinizing me, I try to appear composed and to enjoy the dissipation of nausea, hoping that's the last time I'll vomit tonight.
"No, please don't ruin this barbeque, Caleb. Everyone's enjoying themselves out there, and so were we until this. I promise to go to the doctors on Monday."
"No, what if it's bad?" He ignores my request and waits for his doctor to pick up, pacing.
I notice he's rested the tray of empty glasses on the table behind him and I wonder if it's leaning to the left, or whether that's me, feeling spaced. "What if it can't wait till Monday?"
Taking a deep cleansing breath, I turn and flush the toilet, when something dawns on me.
When was my last period? It must be…I must be.
I whisper, blood rushing to my head, "Oh. My. Gosh."
"Hey, what's up?" Caleb asks, fear in his eyes. "Damn it, pick up, won't you?" He hangs up the phone and kneels in front of me.
"I'll go get some water," Betty tells us, her top lip drawn back, against the acidity of my vomit, I imagine. "Don't let her move from there in case she gets dizzy and falls over."
"Okay, I know. I'm not entirely useless." He holds the hair away from my sweaty face. "Seems I'm destined to spend my life surrounded by bossy women."
Trying
"Nothing wrong with the mushy stuff," he buckles up.
I pretend to yawn, thinking how much I'd like to hear what he'd like to do to me naked. "Although, I feel an early night coming on."
In around half an hour we reach the fairground.
The drive is fabulous in my new Fiat.
Once there, we both have the time of our lives doing normal things like eating too much candy and riding the rollercoaster.
Caleb wins me a giant cuddly toy of my choice by shooting several rows of plastic ducks, laughing triumphantly throughout. I choose a cuddly owl because it is beyond cute and reminds me of him, with its big blue eyes.
He admits he can see the attraction to fairgrounds now.
While we laugh on my favorite the Big Wheel, I see him brake away from the flock of flapping birds and join me, gliding through the clouds.
Epilogue
Twelve months later . . .
"Hey Betty, can you help me with the burgers?" I call her away from our pals on my way to the bathroom.
I've been back and forth all day, though I've tried to hide it as best I can.
I hate people making a fuss when I'm unwell – and I don’t feel that bad, just ill in the stomach.
"They'll be charcoal if they stay on the barbeque much longer and… oh crap," I cover my mouth, "I'm sick as a dog."
After running up to me wearing a pout, she whispers, "That's the third time this week you've been sick—that you've told me about—and you've been running to the toilet all day. You need to see a doctor, Em."
"No," I snap, making my way to the toilet with Betty hot on my heels.
When I go to close the door on her, she stops me and adds in a stern voice, "No arguments, you need a doctor."
"A doctor?" asks Caleb, appearing from nowhere, carrying a tray of empty glasses to refill for our guests.
He's taken to social gatherings of the less luxurious kind over the past twelve months.
Gone are the days of Gala Balls, thank heavens.
"You need a doctor, Em?" He winces, "You are pale come to think of it." Placing the back of his hands against my forehead for a temperature, he adds, "Too much sun? Do you need to lie down?"
"All I need is to…" I turn, run for the toilet.
After I wipe my mouth on tissue paper and turn to them both, hovering in the doorway. "Sorry, but please stop fussing. I'm sure it's just—"
Caleb raises his hand interrupting me, "I don't care what you're sure it is. I'm calling my doctor." Grabbing his cell from his back pocket, he punches in the numbers before holding it to his ear, "He'll come straight out if he ever answers."
"You got a doctor on-call?" Betty says to Caleb, clearly impressed. "Different worlds."
When I turn to see their eyes scrutinizing me, I try to appear composed and to enjoy the dissipation of nausea, hoping that's the last time I'll vomit tonight.
"No, please don't ruin this barbeque, Caleb. Everyone's enjoying themselves out there, and so were we until this. I promise to go to the doctors on Monday."
"No, what if it's bad?" He ignores my request and waits for his doctor to pick up, pacing.
I notice he's rested the tray of empty glasses on the table behind him and I wonder if it's leaning to the left, or whether that's me, feeling spaced. "What if it can't wait till Monday?"
Taking a deep cleansing breath, I turn and flush the toilet, when something dawns on me.
When was my last period? It must be…I must be.
I whisper, blood rushing to my head, "Oh. My. Gosh."
"Hey, what's up?" Caleb asks, fear in his eyes. "Damn it, pick up, won't you?" He hangs up the phone and kneels in front of me.
"I'll go get some water," Betty tells us, her top lip drawn back, against the acidity of my vomit, I imagine. "Don't let her move from there in case she gets dizzy and falls over."
"Okay, I know. I'm not entirely useless." He holds the hair away from my sweaty face. "Seems I'm destined to spend my life surrounded by bossy women."
Trying
Similar Books
