Page 38 of Coach Sully
“How is your diet?”
“I’m nauseous all the time.”
She nods. “I can give you a prescription to help with the nausea. Unfortunately, the exhaustion is probably hanging around but should be improving based on where you are in the trimester.”
There’s that word again.
“Ginger also helps with nausea.”
The only ginger thing I like are those little spice cakes from Sugar and Ice. Surprisingly, the idea of eating them isn’t revolting.
She hands me a folder, and we go through too much information for my brain to take in. My head is swimming with a million thoughts. There’s a baby… in my uterus. By the end of my visit, I’ve already got a to-do list a mile long. First thing is finding an OBGYN I like.
I’m focused on stopping by Sugar and Ice on the way home. Everything else is much too frightening to think about. Am I in shock? Whatever, all I want are those stupid spice cakes. I’m overwrought with my…condition.
I’m pleased to see a friendly face when I open the front door at Sugar and Ice. Micky’s standing behind one of the bakery cases and sliding in some fresh petit fours. She glances up and smiles.This is my go-to place for out-of-the-office work meetings. I spent many mornings and afternoons here while developing my original dating show idea. Over time, I got to know the owner, Micky.
“Hey Kendra! I didn’t know you were gonna visit me today!”
I smile. “Yeah, how many of those ginger spice cakes do you have?”
“A bunch, how many do you want?” she says, smiling. She doesn’t understand.
I fan my palms on the counter. “How many do you have?”
“I think three or four dozen?”
“Great. I will take three or four dozen.”
“Wow, you must be feeding a lot of people.”
I scoff. “Just two!” I say, laughing much too hard. My grip on reality is slipping. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I brush it away.
Micky reaches across the counter and takes my hands. “Hey. You okay?”
“Nope. I’m pregnant.” More tears, and I try to laugh through them. “Sorry, I just found out. There’s a lot going on.”
“So… not congratulations, then?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t trying. One-night stand with a lifetime souvenir.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, Kendra.”
I shrug. “I feel like I’m still a kid myself, you know?”
She comes around the counter and wraps me up in a hug, and I let her. I needed one. “So, I’ve got a friend who was in a similar situation. Raleigh? You’ve met a couple times, briefly.”
I remember her.
“She had a child when she was your age, one-night stand. Do you want her number?”
Is that weird? I could use some advice, though. “Do you think she would mind?”
“No! Not at all. I’ll check with her, but I’m sure she’d love to talk to you. She felt a lot like you do. She’s a sweetheart, you’ll like her.”
I nod. That’s actually a relief. The pamphlets and brochures I received at the office are adorned with beaming women with protruding stomachs. They look like those advertisements of women laughing into their salads. As if their organic arugula gave them back-to-back orgasms.
I am most certainly not laughing into my salad today.