Page 11 of Truck Up
I imagine I look just like all those zombies dragging their feet with their arms hanging loosely to their sides, shuffling along in hoards like they did on the set ofWalking Dead. Except seeing another living human does not make me spring into action. The sight of Mom in the kitchen only makes me want to rush back to my room and crawl into bed.
“Hey sweetie,” she says with her typical morning cheer. I usually share it, but this morning all I can manage is a nod. I grab a coffee mug and pour myself a cup. The smell makes me cringe.
That’s new. I feel the scowl take over my expression as I stare at the cup.
I love coffee. The smell. The taste. The bitterness. It’s perfection in a cup and always brings me joy.
I shake my head and take a sip before I sit down at the table. Something about it doesn’t taste right, and I can’t pinpoint what. Maybe Mom got a new brand of coffee?
“Did you change something about the coffee?” I ask. My voice sounds a little rough and gravelly. I clear my throat, hoping I’m not catching a cold or sore throat.
“No, it’s the same as always,” she says as she lifts her own mug to her lips and takes a sip. “It tastes the same to me.”
I shrug and take another drink. I need an energy boost, and so far, this coffee is not doing it. If anything, it’s making me feel nauseous. I hate feeling nauseous.
“I’m making your dad scrambled eggs. Do you want some?” Mom asks. She just finished frying up some bacon, and the smell is not agreeing with me either. It makes no sense because I love bacon and coffee. They are two of my favorite things.
“With cheddar cheese?” I ask. She nods and grabs a couple more eggs out of the carton.
“Do you want toast?” she asks and then cracks the eggs on the counter before adding them to the bowl.
“Sure. Toast sounds good.”
She sets the plate of bacon on the table next to Dad’s chair. There’s enough there for all of us, and normally I’d grab a couple of pieces before Dad comes down for breakfast. If we don’t claim our bacon first, he’ll eat it all without shame.
But this morning the bacon doesn’t even look good. Forget how the smell is affecting me. I scowl at the plate, confused by this strange reaction.
Mom steps up next to my chair and places her hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling okay, dear?”
I shake my head. “Not particularly. I didn’t sleep well last night and now I feel blah.”
“Let me call your brother,” she says as she reaches for her phone. “He’ll make time for you.”
“No!” I reach out and grab her arm. My brother Aaron is a doctor and runs a small office in town out of his house. While he’ll always make time for family, his schedule is busy. “I don’tneed to go see Aaron. Not yet, at least. I think this is just from lack of sleep.”
Mom stares at me, and I can tell from her expression that she wants to object. Instead, she sighs and heads back to the stove. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.” I pick up my coffee to hide my expression and immediately regret bringing it so close to my nose.
If Mom looks too closely, she’ll know I’m lying.
I amnotokay.
Something is definitely not right with me today and it has nothing to do with a lack of sleep.
I take my time sipping my coffee, focusing hard on controlling my reaction every time the hot liquid hits my tongue. The taste is all wrong and my stomach is churning.
A few minutes later, Mom sets a plate of eggs and toasts in front of me. She adds two pieces of bacon to my plate and I involuntarily tense.
She furrows her brow. “Sweetie, you don’t look good at all. Maybe you should go back to bed. Get more rest.”
I take a deep breath. The smell of eggs and bacon causes my stomach to turn and I have to cover my mouth to keep from throwing up. I jump to my feet and shake my head.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say as I make my way out of the kitchen. “I’m gonna crawl back into bed for a bit. Save that for me?”
“Of course, dear,” Mom says before I disappear around the corner. “But are you sure I shouldn’t call your brother?”
“Yes!” I call back before I hit the stairs. I make it to the bathroom just in time to lock the door and fall to my knees in front of the toilet. I didn’t drink much, but all my coffee comes up along with whatever else remained in my stomach from the night before.