The More Boys I Meet

I was clutching the toilet emptying the contents of my stomach. It was the second time in the past hour I that I had thrown up and I was getting ready for a third.

“Ellie? Babe?” Marcus wandered in, still sleepy eyed. “Are you okay?”

“Yup!” I groaned, shutting the door in his face.

“That was rude,” he muttered, opening the door right back up again. He sat down behind me, pulling my hair back into a ponytail and started rubbing my back.

It soothed me long enough to sip water and lay my head down on the toilet seat for a few minutes. It was early July and I had been sick with the flu for the past three days. I was miserable.

“Babe, are you sure you don’t want to go see a doctor? This is the third day of you throwing up. I’m getting worried.”

“Fine,” I groaned at the toilet. “Viktor already leave?” I asked.

“Yeah. Went to go meet Alice for the day. Is she really moving to Chicago?”

I nodded. “Took a job teaching math at Columbia yesterday. She starts in August.”

“That’s good. Viktor will be pleased.”

I nodded and felt the urge to throw up again. Fuck my life.

~~~~~

The next day Marcus essentially forced me to the doctor. I was still feeling crappy and the vomiting hadn’t improved. I could barely hold anything down and it was getting annoying.

“So we’ll just take some tests and see where we are from there, okay?” My doctor was so damn cheery.

“Stop staring at her like she murdered your cat,” Marcus whispered in my ear when she left the room for a second.

“I can’t,” I grumbled, rubbing my eyes. “I’m cranky and she’s too fucking cheery. Seriously. Who is that happy?”

He chuckled, rubbing my back in slow circles.

The doctor reappeared looking perplexed. “Ms. Reese,” she looked at me and then at Marcus. “When was the last time you had your period?”

I furrowed my brow, really thinking about it. I had it at the beginning of June for sure. And July. . . I hadn’t gotten it in July. . . .

“Oh dear God woman, you’re kidding me right? We’ve only had sex like three times. I mean and we used a condom each time!”

Marcus cleared his throat. “Um. . . not the time in the supply closet in the UC,” his cheeks were bright red, though the color was fading fast as it hit him.

I nodded my head, remembering that morning quite well. “Well then. That would make me. . .almost eight weeks pregnant. Well then,” I looked down at my stomach and poked it. “Hey there baby.”

Marcus passed out in his chair. I stared at him, shaking my head. “Great, now what am I supposed to do?” I asked my doctor. “I can barely lift my own weight, let alone all that,” I waved at Marcus.

She stared at us like we weren’t supposed to be let loose from the looney bin. And she had no idea that this was pretty calm.

“Yeah, I’ll call Alice. She can handle this.”