Oopsie Daisy: A Steamy Romantic Comedy

by Iris Morland

  I tried to clear up my inbox, but I could barely concentrate. Anxiety churned in my gut. There was no way Dr. Martin had seen anything between me and Kate. Fear wasn’t the most logical emotion, however.

  Grabbing my things, I almost dove under my desk when I heard Dr. Martin laughing down the hallway. Christ, she’d drag me along to drinks if I weren’t careful.

  So much for getting to know your coworkers, idiot.

  Fucking sue me. I didn’t feel like talking to people tonight. I needed some time to think and to figure out how the hell I was going to deal with a little problem called Kate Wright.

  When I arrived home at the tiny flat I’d found a mile from campus so I had an excuse not to learn how to drive (Americans were bloody insane drivers), Clurichaun greeted me at the door.

  A huge, fluffy orange beast of a cat, Clurichaun had been surprisingly calm about the whole move from Ireland. He hadn’t remotely lived up to his name, an Irish fairy that loved to drink and play pranks. When I’d had to take Clurichaun out of his carrier at the airport, he’d blinked sleepily and had promptly fallen back asleep in my arms.

  My flat consisted of a futon that was about to fall apart any day now and a coffee table made from a cardboard box. The living room was also my bedroom. I should probably get some furniture… I thought for the hundredth time. But it wasn’t like research professors were paid decent money here. The only reason I’d swallowed the paycheck was because the University of Washington had one of the best materials and science programs and it’d be worth it to further my own research.

  I’d known that I’d wanted to become a scientist since I’d discovered in primary school how easily you could create chemical reactions from basic things. I’d used up all of my mam’s vinegar and baking soda one summer when I was five years old, loving the way it bubbled in her huge cooking pot like a cauldron full of potions. My mam hadn’t taken kindly to me using up all of her ingredients, or using her cooking pot for science experiments.

  As I’d got older, I’d become more interested in genetics and the science behind essentially engineering DNA. Combined with a real fear of climate change and the necessity to find a fuel source that wasn’t based on fossil fuels that damaged the ozone, I became obsessed with the possibility of creating a type of fuel through genetic engineering. It was the combination of biology and engineering that I found fulfilling.

  My work at the University of Ireland had brought great advancements in my research: specifically in experiments on bacterial DNA. As my research had progressed, my star had risen as well, and when I had the opportunity to go to a university with a larger, more robust, program, I hadn’t hesitated.

  But all of that hard work, the sacrifices, the paperwork and bullshite you had to deal with to immigrate to America—it was all in jeopardy. Because of one slip of a girl who’d shown up in the last place I would’ve ever expected her.

  What were the odds? I laughed, because it was preferable to bursting into ugly man tears. I hadn’t cried since my dog had got hit by a car when I was seven.

  Clurichaun got onto my lap and started purring so loudly he made my knees shake. I stroked the cat’s fur absentmindedly.

  I couldn’t let Kate know I recognized her. Most importantly, I needed to talk to Dr. Martin and see if she’d take her and give me one of her students. I didn’t know the protocol in the department for a student swap, but I’d come up with some excuse. I’d say that Kate and I didn’t get along. Or that she wanted to work with a female professor. That was plausible, right?

  And how are you going to get Kate to agree to this?

  Based on how embarrassed she’d looked during our bizarre conversation, I couldn’t imagine she wanted to keep me as her advisor, similar research or no. My anxiety calmed somewhat.

  I’d get this all hammered out and no one would need to know. As long as Kate kept her mouth shut—who would believe her, anyway?—I could keep my job and not have my reputation utterly fucked. I wasn’t going to let one mistake ruin everything. One night of casual sex was not going to destroy everything I’d worked towards.

  Clurichaun meowed in annoyance, hopping down to the floor. Apparently I’d been petting him too aggressively. He licked at his fur, his eyes flashing disdain.

  “Sorry, mate. What would you do in my situation?”

  Clurichaun just started licking his nonexistent bollocks in reply.

  My phone rang, reminding me that I had a phone call with my mam and da tonight. It was about six hours later in Ireland at the moment. I made myself smooth my expression. I couldn’t let my parents be suspicious. My mam, when she sensed something was up, would be like a hound on the scent for blood.

  “Lochlann!” said my mam. Both she and my da’s faces came up.

  Da waved and then asked, “Can you hear us?” He practically yelled the words.

  “Yeah, I can hear you. Da, you don’t need to yell into the phone, you know,” I said.

  “Last time we called we couldn’t hear you. Reception is terrible here,” said my mam.

  In their sixties now, my parents had worked their entire lives to give me the education they’d never had. As an only child, I’d got their complete focus, but with that came the expectation that I’d make something of myself. I wanted to become successful so I could support my parents as they aged. It was my duty as the only son.

  “How was your day? Are you teaching yet?” said my da.

  “Classes haven’t started yet,” I replied. “I told you that.”

  “Oh, well, I can’t remember all the details of your schedule. Do you like Seattle? What’s everyone like? Are there really Starbucks on every corner?” This from my mam.

  I bit back a smile. “Seattle is kind of like Ireland, except there aren’t as many pubs. But the weather is similar. And yes, there are Starbucks on every corner.”

  My mam elbowed my da, my da wincing. “I told you! Have you been to—what is it called?—Walls-mart? Is that what it’s called?”

  “Walmart. And no, there isn’t one in Seattle proper,” I said with a smile.

  My mam gave me a disappointed look. “Well, you need to go to one and tell us all about it. I’ve heard they’re huge.”

  “Mattie, he’s busy. He doesn’t have time to go to a bunch of stores,” said my da.

  I told my parents about my new department, the classes I was teaching, and I briefly touched on the grad students I’d be advising. When I mentioned one was a female, my mam jumped on that detail, to my immense frustration. Although to be fair, the percentage of women in most STEM programs was abysmally low.

  “A girl! Did you ever advise a girl in Ireland? I thought only men attended these programs,” said my mam.

  “It’s not like they’re not open to women,” I countered.

  My da pushed up his glasses. “No, but it’s a field that men do. Like women are nurses.”

  I wasn’t about to argue that things had changed and that there were plenty of men becoming nurses and women becoming engineers. Instead, I just said, “Well, there are women in the program. I met with my student today. Her research is similar to mine, which is why she was assigned to me.”

  “Is she single?” My mam’s eyes widened. “How old is she?”

  I needed to end this conversation now. Giving them an excuse that I was meeting up with a colleague, I ended the phone call and sighed deeply.

  Clurichaun meowed at my feet.

  “What a fucking disaster,” I muttered, Clurichaun seeming to nod in agreement.

  Chapter Three

  Kate

  When I was younger, I wished my two older sisters were two older brothers. Brothers didn’t stick their noses in your business, or act like they knew so much by virtue of the fact that they were a few years older.

  Okay, I was seven years younger than Dani, and nine years younger than Mari. Growing up, I’d seen them both as adversaries and the two people I wanted to impress. Which was why I put frogs in their beds or dyed their hair blue (makes sense,
right?).

  “Are you excited to start grad school?” said Mari serenely, her milky white hands resting on her burgeoning baby belly as we waited for our brunch entrees to arrive.

  Mari was glowing, and it was almost to the point of being nauseating. Dani sat next to her, checking her phone, dirt under her fingernails. Mari had recently begun working as a freelance makeup artist and YouTuber, while Dani ran my family’s flower shop, Buds and Blossoms, with her fiancé, Jacob.

  My stomach roiled. Apparently Mari was literally nauseating, because I definitely felt like my stomach was about to come out of my butt.

  The nausea was probably from thinking about the fact that I’d slept with my advisor and I had no idea what the hell I was going to do about it.

  Yeah, I wasn’t telling my sisters that tidbit.

  Dani shot me a strange look. “Are you okay?”

  “Totally.”

  “So, are you excited?” pressed Mari in that older sister voice. You can’t ignore me was its underlying tone.

  I almost felt badly for her husband, Liam. But Liam made me think of Lochlann, and oh God, I couldn’t puke here. Had I gotten the flu somehow? In September? Maybe it was cholera or dysentery. I’d blame Lochlann for either of those diagnoses.

  I shrugged at Mari’s question. “Sure.”

  Dani was still looking at me strangely. “You’re acting weird today.”

  “Am I?”

  “You’re so…” Dani tilted her head to the side, her curly hair gently waving in the breeze. “Calm.”

  “I can be calm,” I shot back.

  “The only time you’re calm is when you’re asleep, or when you were high on pain meds after getting your wisdom teeth out.” Mari chuckled. “You thought Oprah was going to bring you an elephant as a reward, remember?”

  “You cried so hard when Mom told you Oprah wasn’t coming,” said Dani.

  “I did not,” I grumbled, crossing my arms.

  “But did you sign up for your classes? What are you taking? Not that I’d understand any of it.” Mari put up her hands, smiling wryly. “You’re smarter than all of us.”

  At that, I sat up a little straighter and began to rattle off my classes. When my sisters’ eyes started to glaze over, I sat back and smirked. They might be older but there were some things I knew about that they’d never get, like my fascination with genes and all the nerdy things that made me so excited but had bored them both to tears.

  “Jacob says hi,” said Dani as she texted one last message. “We’re doing a wedding tomorrow and the bride has been calling us both nonstop to make sure we won’t forget. Apparently at her first wedding, the florist showed up drunk and with a bunch of brown roses for her bouquet. She’s been a little intense about this second round.”

  “Is that why she got a divorce?” I asked innocently.

  Mari gave me the Older Sister Look. Dani, though, laughed.

  “Worse,” said Dani. “Her husband left her to live in a hippy commune in Hawaii. Apparently he renamed himself Rainbow Sunshine Cloudmaker. Suffice to say, Meredith didn’t feel like joining him at the commune.”

  Right then, our food arrived. I always ordered waffles and mimosas for brunch, but when I inhaled the scent of delicious, golden, crispy waffle, my stupid stomach turned upside down. Couldn’t a girl enjoy some waffles without it going badly?

  Maybe I was just really, really hungry. I hadn’t eaten since last night, and it was close to eleven AM. I drank a big gulp of my grapefruit mimosa, the bubbles making me cover my mouth to hide a loud belch.

  “Lovely,” said Mari as she began to eat her salad. “Always the lady.”

  “I try,” I said.

  I began to dig into my waffle, and for a moment my nausea disappeared. Mari began to talk about her baby shower in two weeks, which Dani and Mari’s sister-in-law, Niamh (pronounced Neev, because sure, why not?), were planning. Dani had asked me if I’d wanted to help, but I’d declined. What the hell did I know about babies or baby showers? I’d bring the booze. That was the most important thing, anyway.

  “I really don’t want any games,” said Mari. “Just gifts and food.”

  “Baby shower games are pretty stupid,” agreed Dani.

  Sounds boring, I thought to myself as I shoveled waffle into my mouth.

  “Liam and I haven’t agreed on a theme for the nursery yet. He wants to do something Irish, which I like, but I don’t want a bunch of creepy leprechauns in my baby’s nursery.” Mari shuddered.

  “Does Liam want to scar your kid for life?” said Dani with a laugh.

  I added, “Maybe he’s just really into Lucky Charms.”

  “No, he likes the original Irish fairytales but they aren’t kid-friendly. He says he heard them growing up and look how he turned out. But since I’m pregnant, he always ends up doing what I say.” Mari patted her belly with a wide smile.

  Was it weird that all this pregnancy talk made me uncomfortable? I drank more of my mimosa, hoping my sisters couldn’t see how bored I was. Which then made me feel guilty, because I loved my sisters and this was an exciting new chapter for Mari and Liam.

  Maybe I just didn’t get it. I didn’t get the appeal of giving up your life, your dreams, your identity, for a baby.

  I didn’t know if it was the last bite of waffle or the second mimosa but the nausea returned full-force as we waited for the check. I started sweating profusely, and as I was about to run to the bathroom, that terrible heaving feeling took over.

  I reached a nearby flowerpot filled with pansies and mums right before I puked up my waffle, my mimosas, and probably a kidney in the process. Nearby patrons gasped; I heard chairs squealing against the floor. Then I felt a gentle hand pulling my hair back as I vomited a second, then a third time. By the time I was done, I was sweaty, swearing, and mad that I’d just wasted a perfectly good waffle.

  “Are you okay? Sit down.” Dani directed me to a chair; Mari handed me a glass of water. I drank the entire thing in practically one gulp.

  Mari put a hand to my forehead. “You don’t seem like you have a fever.”

  “It’s probably cholera,” I joked.

  “You’d have a fever then, you dork.” Dani handed me another glass of water.

  It took a lot of persuasion on my part to convince my sisters that the nausea had passed, and I could go home without them clucking and fussing over me.

  I wondered if I’d gotten food poisoning—but didn’t it take longer than that? I did feel better, though. Maybe it had been the waffle? Or I’d drunk my mimosas too fast?

  “How was brunch?” asked my roommate, Naoko, as I collapsed into a chair next to her. Naoko Tsushima was a senior, about to earn a degree in music. Her specialty? The tuba. Considering she was all of five feet tall, I still didn’t know how she could manage an instrument that large. A flute would’ve made more sense.

  “I puked my guts up,” I said.

  Naoko paused The Great British Baking Show episode she was watching. “Wait? Literally or figuratively?”

  “Literally. Well, literally-ish. My actual guts are still inside me.”

  Naoko made a face. “Um, TMI. Also: why? Or what was it from?”

  I sighed. “No idea. I’m guessing food poisoning.”

  “While you were eating? Or from food you ate last night?”

  I shrugged. “I mean, what else could it be? I feel fine now. I don’t have a fever. I can’t imagine it’s the flu, right?”

  Naoko scrunched her nose up. “If you have the flu, I’m dousing you in Lysol.” Pressing play on her show, she added with a chuckle, “You’re probably pregnant.”

  I didn’t even register her comment until I saw a commercial for baby wipes ten minutes later. I wondered if Mari was going to get fancy organic wipes for my niece or nephew. She was going to use cloth diapers, which sounded like a huge pain to me.

  Then, a thought: could I be pregnant?

  I pushed that thought down so hard, so fast, that I refused to examine it again. Except,
it followed me the rest of the afternoon and into the evening.

  Lying on my bed after the sun had set and listening to a super cheery podcast about how humanity was destroying the planet at an alarming rate, I couldn’t get rid of the idea.

  There was no way, though. Lochlann had used a condom. I’d seen him put it on and take it off afterward, so it wasn’t like he’d tried to stealth me. Plus, my periods had always been irregular, so I could go six weeks before it appeared. When had I last gotten it, though?

  I couldn’t remember.

  By the time I was peeing on a pregnancy test, sitting in a one-room stall at the one drugstore open at this hour, I could only see Lochlann’s dumb, handsome face in my head.

  I had to wait two minutes. I washed my hands three times just for something to do. I checked my phone, only to see Mari posting something on Facebook about doulas or midwives or whatever new pregnancy thing she was researching.

  I ended up staring at the graffiti on the wall. One message read, Steve is gay. The next: we’re all a little gay, it’s okay. The third was just a drawing of a very long penis with a smiley face at the tip.

  When I saw the pregnant message, I tossed the stick away like it was on fire. And because my life was just so awesome, it landed with a nice plinking noise in the toilet bowl.

  “Are you done yet?” a man’s voice called through the door. “Are you dead?”

  “I have diarrhea!” I yelled. “You don’t want to use this one!”

  “It’s the only one in the store, lady!”

  I was already trying to figure out how I could fish out the pregnancy test without touching gross toilet bowl water. But I didn’t exactly carry a scoop or tongs for this particular issue. I could leave the test, but the thought of the guy on the other side of the door seeing it made me want to die inside.

  Stress tends to make us fucking idiots—me especially.

  I reached inside the bowl, fishing out the test, only to realize I’d been so distracted and intent on getting the test out that I’d forgotten to roll up my sweatshirt. It was now dripping wet and I couldn’t take it off because I had nothing on underneath it.