going crazy. I'm sneezing, I'm tired, and I'm incredibly nauseous. Usually, the nausea is more mild. At the moment, I'm about ready to throw up.
It feels like it's something worse than allergies, but it's been consistent for a few weeks. What else could it be?
At home, Mom is in the kitchen. It smells like tomatoes, meat, and pasta.
Yum.
"Hey, Kara." Mom smiles. She nods hello to Drew. "Andrew, nice to finally see you."
Drew actually blushes. He hates being called Andrew.
God damn, he looks cute with his cheeks pink. My head fills with all sorts of delicious thoughts about other activities that make him flush.
"It's just Drew, Mrs. Kendrick," he says.
"It's just Judy." She motions to the table. "I'm about to bring out the salad."
"Thanks for cooking, Mrs., ahem Judy."
She smiles. "Kara helped prepare it last night."
Oh, it's the lasagna. I've already forgotten everything about yesterday that wasn't me and Drew in the shower.
"You cooked for me, Kendrick?" He squeezes my hand under the table as he turns to Mom. "She always 'lets' me cook for her."
Mom laughs. "Kara is excellent with grilled cheese, mac and cheese, anything with cheese."
Is loving cheese a crime? Grilled cheese is fantastic. Especially with tomato soup. Maybe I like carbs more than I should. The evidence of my love affair shows in my hips, my stomach, my thighs, my—well, my everything.
Truth be told, I like my curvy figure. Sure, it would be nice to have abs, but my boobs and butt fill out a tight dress like nobody's business. If only I could do something about being five feet tall.
We take our seats and serve ourselves. The lasagna looks amazing, and I'm hungry. I've been starving lately. Usually, I'm not big on meat, but the beef smells amazing. I want to eat a million pounds of it.
And the tampons...
And the nausea.
No.
There's no way...
There's no way I'm pregnant. I had my period recently. Didn't I?
I try to work backward, to do the math, but I can't remember any specific cycle. School makes all the days run together.
It can't be possible. I'm religious with my pill.
Only traveling makes it difficult to keep track of time zones.
I want to have a family with Drew. One day. I want a little girl. I know everyone says boys are easier. I know Drew would be less overprotective of a boy. But I still want a girl. I want to dress her in those tiny Converse and cozy sweaters. I want to put her in dance classes until she finds a style she likes, the way my mom did for me.
If she hates dance, she can try soccer or karate or gymnastics. She's going to be a strong girl, physically and mentally. I can see the three of us at the park or the beach or her first day of school. I know I'll annoy the shit out of her, fussing over her hair and clothes for pictures. But she'll appreciate it when she's older, especially when she's old enough I can teach her how to tame her thick hair. Drew's hair is short, but it's nearly as thick as mine.
I can see a great life for us, the three of us...
But it's five or ten years away.
Now... he's still touring half the year. I'm still in graduate school.
Mom's voice interrupts my thoughts. "Are you going to visit your parents, Drew?"
I clear my throat. Better to focus on Drew. This is a remote possibility. "Mom, I told you about Drew's parents... what happened with him dropping out of school."
Mom looks at me curiously. She doesn't remember.
I shoot Drew an apologetic look. He acts strong about his parents being out of his life, but I know it hurts him.
He takes a steady breath. "My mom stopped speaking to me after I dropped out of Stanford to follow the band." His eyes go to the table. "I'm sure she had good intentions. But—" He shakes his head, struggling to keep his voice even. "I accepted it a long time ago. I just wish she hadn't done the same thing to Willow."
"Your sister?" Mom asks.
Drew nods.
"She was a sweet girl. How is she doing?"
"She married their drummer," I say. "She's a photographer
It feels like it's something worse than allergies, but it's been consistent for a few weeks. What else could it be?
At home, Mom is in the kitchen. It smells like tomatoes, meat, and pasta.
Yum.
"Hey, Kara." Mom smiles. She nods hello to Drew. "Andrew, nice to finally see you."
Drew actually blushes. He hates being called Andrew.
God damn, he looks cute with his cheeks pink. My head fills with all sorts of delicious thoughts about other activities that make him flush.
"It's just Drew, Mrs. Kendrick," he says.
"It's just Judy." She motions to the table. "I'm about to bring out the salad."
"Thanks for cooking, Mrs., ahem Judy."
She smiles. "Kara helped prepare it last night."
Oh, it's the lasagna. I've already forgotten everything about yesterday that wasn't me and Drew in the shower.
"You cooked for me, Kendrick?" He squeezes my hand under the table as he turns to Mom. "She always 'lets' me cook for her."
Mom laughs. "Kara is excellent with grilled cheese, mac and cheese, anything with cheese."
Is loving cheese a crime? Grilled cheese is fantastic. Especially with tomato soup. Maybe I like carbs more than I should. The evidence of my love affair shows in my hips, my stomach, my thighs, my—well, my everything.
Truth be told, I like my curvy figure. Sure, it would be nice to have abs, but my boobs and butt fill out a tight dress like nobody's business. If only I could do something about being five feet tall.
We take our seats and serve ourselves. The lasagna looks amazing, and I'm hungry. I've been starving lately. Usually, I'm not big on meat, but the beef smells amazing. I want to eat a million pounds of it.
And the tampons...
And the nausea.
No.
There's no way...
There's no way I'm pregnant. I had my period recently. Didn't I?
I try to work backward, to do the math, but I can't remember any specific cycle. School makes all the days run together.
It can't be possible. I'm religious with my pill.
Only traveling makes it difficult to keep track of time zones.
I want to have a family with Drew. One day. I want a little girl. I know everyone says boys are easier. I know Drew would be less overprotective of a boy. But I still want a girl. I want to dress her in those tiny Converse and cozy sweaters. I want to put her in dance classes until she finds a style she likes, the way my mom did for me.
If she hates dance, she can try soccer or karate or gymnastics. She's going to be a strong girl, physically and mentally. I can see the three of us at the park or the beach or her first day of school. I know I'll annoy the shit out of her, fussing over her hair and clothes for pictures. But she'll appreciate it when she's older, especially when she's old enough I can teach her how to tame her thick hair. Drew's hair is short, but it's nearly as thick as mine.
I can see a great life for us, the three of us...
But it's five or ten years away.
Now... he's still touring half the year. I'm still in graduate school.
Mom's voice interrupts my thoughts. "Are you going to visit your parents, Drew?"
I clear my throat. Better to focus on Drew. This is a remote possibility. "Mom, I told you about Drew's parents... what happened with him dropping out of school."
Mom looks at me curiously. She doesn't remember.
I shoot Drew an apologetic look. He acts strong about his parents being out of his life, but I know it hurts him.
He takes a steady breath. "My mom stopped speaking to me after I dropped out of Stanford to follow the band." His eyes go to the table. "I'm sure she had good intentions. But—" He shakes his head, struggling to keep his voice even. "I accepted it a long time ago. I just wish she hadn't done the same thing to Willow."
"Your sister?" Mom asks.
Drew nods.
"She was a sweet girl. How is she doing?"
"She married their drummer," I say. "She's a photographer
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