Unglued (Holding On)

by Rachael Brownell

  They took off in one direction and I headed to a bank of slot machines that looked like fun. I knew that I was going to lose. We were staying for three days, and I had to make my money last. I put a twenty in the machine and placed my bet. I hit some kind of crazy bonus game on my first spin and before I knew it, I was up a hundred dollars and two hours had flown by.

  My excitement was dulled by the fact that my body was drained of all its energy. I cashed out my ticket at the closest machine and headed straight for the elevators. I was going to try and get some sleep before the guys got back. I had a feeling that they were out drinking and drunk boys don’t know how to be quiet.

  I showered and changed. The second my head hit the pillow, I was struggling to keep my eyes open. I found an old movie that was about to start but was asleep before they even rolled the opening credits.

  “You know, you really should be taking better care of yourself. I warned you about how much coffee you were drinking, didn’t I?”

  “What are you talking about? I gave up coffee completely. It lost its appeal a while ago.”

  “Did you ever wonder why?”

  “Maybe because I spend all day serving coffee to other people. Honestly, now that I don’t drink it, I can barely stand the smell of it.”

  “Funny. You gave it up and can’t stand the smell of it. Give anything else up lately?”

  What was she getting at? I still love coffee I just don’t drink it any more. The smell is nauseating. She did this to me. My subconscious must be working for her these days.

  “No. Other than coffee, I am the same person that you’ve always known.”

  “Fine. So, how’s tennis going?”

  “Stupid question but how did you know I was playing again. I didn’t start until after...”

  “After I died. It’s okay to say it you know. It’s not like I can get mad about it or change the situation. I’m dead, you’re alive, case closed. So, tennis?”

  “It’s fine but it wears me out. I can only play for so long before my shoulder is screaming at me to stop and most days, I’m so tired that I stop before I even get to that point.”

  “So, you’re always tired, you can’t stand certain smells...anything else weird going on right now?”

  “What’s this about, Natalie? Not that I’m complaining but I haven’t seen you in weeks and now here you are, being all weird about stuff. What’s going on?”

  “I can’t tell you, you have to figure it out for yourself.”

  “Well, let’s talk about something else then because this conversation is irritating the crap out of me.”

  “Okay, what would you like to talk about? How’s Ethan?”

  “He’s fine, so is everyone else.” I wonder how much she really knows, how much she sees. Am I really even seeing her? “You know, Morgan is here with us.”

  “I know. I talked to him last night. He’s doing better. He seems like he’s at least trying to be happy.”

  “He is. I know that this is hard on him; his wound is still fresh even though it’s been over a month. I think once school starts back up that he’ll start to move on.”

  “I’m glad. It’s been hard watching him the last few weeks. In the beginning it wasn’t easy watching him mourn, but I think the fact that he’s mourning less is actually harder for me to watch. I don’t want him to forget about me.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “So, seven weeks, huh? It’s been that long already? Wow! Time really flies right by doesn’t it?”

  “I guess it does.”

  “Just keep something in mind for me, Becca. If you’re not choosing to live life to the fullest each and every day, then you’re allowing yourself to die, one missed moment at a time. I don’t want that for you, for any of you. I want you all to live your lives to the fullest.”

  What do you say to your best friend who is watching everything but experiencing nothing? She can see it all as it unfolds, knows more than we do, but yet can’t help us or talk to us or stop us from making mistakes. She’s helpless and it must be driving her nuts after being a meddler for so long.

  “Well, I better get going. Morgan’s waiting for me. I promised him that I would pop in and see him again tonight if he didn’t get too drunk.”

  “Natalie, before you go can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “Are you doing okay? I know it sounds stupid but we all have each other and we are trying our best to move on without you here, carrying you in our hearts, but you are all alone.”

  “I’m okay. I get to watch the people I love live their lives, and that’s enough for me right now. One day I’ll stop visiting you, and you’ll know that I’ve made my peace, that I’ve decided to move on.”

  “Not that I don’t love talking to you and miss you every day but I hope you find peace, Natalie. I really do.”

  I awoke with a start. I always freak out after talking to Natalie. It seemed so real, like if I tried, I could reach out and touch her, hug her, pull her back into my reality. I know that’s not possible. I know that she’s gone. That doesn’t mean that I don’t wish things had turned out differently.

  My stomach started to turn. I smelled cigarette smoke and beer and it’s overwhelming my senses. The guys are sound asleep. Brad is snoring softly next to me. It’s rising higher. I can feel it in my throat.

  I dart to the bathroom and make it to the toilet just in time. I puked up the entire contents of my stomach, and when I am finally done dry-heaving, I lay down on the tile floor. It’s cooling on my skin. I don’t feel sick. I don’t have a fever. Now that I’ve puked, I feel much better, actually.

  I stood up and splashed some water on my face. I can taste vomit. I reach for my toothbrush and put a dab of toothpaste on it as Brad walks in the bathroom. I can hear him peeing. The smell of beer and cigarette smoke fills the room, and my stomach turns again. I puked right in the sink.

  Without saying a word, Brad leaves the bathroom, and I puked again as he passes me. Either he is sleepwalking, or he’s so drunk that he didn’t even realized I was standing there. Either is an option with as strong as the scent of beer is.

  I rinsed the sink, brushed my teeth, and head back into the room. I can see that the sun is peeking over the horizon, so I open the curtains. The smells are lingering in the room, so I decided to dress and head down to get some breakfast. My stomach is empty and if I stay any longer I will probably puke again.

  Chapter 20

  Our hotel has three restaurants and a buffet. I opted for the buffet not knowing what I really wanted to try and eat after puking so much this morning. It has a variety of fresh fruit, yogurt, and an omelet bar. My stomach growled as I passed the buffet and followed the host to my table. She drops three menus on the table and heads back to her stand without saying anything.

  I send a quick text to both of the guys, letting them know that I am down at the buffet getting breakfast. I get a response from Morgan that he’s on his way. Brad never responds. He must still be passed out.

  “Good morning, sunshine. What time did you boys get in last night?”

  “More like this morning. I had to drag Brad back here, literally. He was trying to go home with a stripper.”

  “So that’s where you guys went last night.”

  “Don’t tell him I told you. I don’t think he wanted you to know.”

  “I won’t but just for the record, I don’t really care where you guys went as long as you had fun.”

  “It was okay. Not really my scene if you know what I mean.”

  I knew what he was referring to. I could tell that Morgan had rolled out of bed and come right down at the mention of breakfast. His hair was tussled, and his shirt was wrinkled from sleeping, but I couldn’t detect the smell of beer oozing from him like I did with Brad this morning.

  “So, you hungry?”

  “Yes, I’m famished. I puked twice this morning and now I’m running on empty.”

  “You
threw up? Are you feeling okay?”

  I have to really think about it for a minute as I stared down at my plate. It’s overflowing with food. I have toast stacked on top of eggs and bacon and sausage. I put my fruit on top of my yogurt, and I have hash browns in my hand with no place to put them.

  “Yeah. I feel all right, just hungry now I guess.”

  Morgan is also staring at my plate with wide eyes. I put the hash browns back, knowing that I could always return if I really wanted them. That’s why it’s a buffet. I don’t have to cram everything on my plate at once. Plus, they make these plates so small. They want you to make more than one trip.

  I dropped my plate off at the table and headed in the direction of the beverage station. I see Brad approaching, looking like he needs a shower, a shave, and about five more hours of sleep. He’s still a few feet away when I catch a whiff of him. The smell immediately makes me nauseous and I run to the nearest trashcan.

  I feel bad for the people around me, watching, but I can’t help it. Brad comes up behind me and I puke again. Between sobs, because now I’m crying from embarrassment. I tell him to go away and to have Morgan bring me a glass of water.

  “So, seven weeks, huh? It’s been that long already?”

  “So, you’re always tired, you can’t stand certain smells...”

  Oh! My! God!

  There was no way I could be pregnant. I haven’t had sex with anyone since...Crap! Ethan. I forgot about the bathroom. Still, I’ve had my period...Crap! I still haven’t figured that out. When was the last time? Natalie and I were on the same cycle.

  Crap! Crap! Crap!

  I take the glass of water Morgan hands me and down it. My hands are shaking and I feel like I might faint. I need something to sit on. Morgan must have read my mind because he’s pulling a chair over for me and helping me into it. I can see Brad standing by our table. He looks hurt and confused.

  “Tell him I’m sorry for yelling at him but he smells awful.”

  “So, you want me to apologize to him for you and then tell him he smells awful?”

  “Yes. Tell him that he needs to go shower and wash the stripper off of him before his scent makes me puke again.” I’m dead serious but Morgan is looking at me like I’m crazy. “Seriously. Go tell him because I don’t have anything left in my stomach, and he’s standing between me and my food. I want to go eat.”

  “Okay. I’ll get rid of him.”

  I watch as Morgan tells Brad what I told him to. Now he looks really hurt. As soon as he’s gone, I make my way over to the table and pull my plate in front of me. I dig in, the smell of the food a welcome scent compared to Brad. My stomach thanks me by growling loudly, twice, as I down my entire plate in a matter of minutes. Morgan is just sitting there, watching me, with his mouth hanging open.

  “Close your mouth. I told you I was hungry.”

  “I know but...you just ate enough for two people, and it looks like you could go back for more.”

  Two people. Crap! I’m gonna puke again.

  I dash back to the trashcan and up comes everything I just consumed. It does not taste as good the second time.

  Morgan brings me another glass of water, and I drink it slowly this time. Maybe I do have a virus. Maybe I am getting sick. Maybe it’s something other than the one thing that I know it probably is.

  “You want to go lay down or something? Do you think you can make it back upstairs without puking?”

  “Yeah. I can make it, but you can stay here. Eat and pack me up some food for later. I’m going to be hungry again once I stop puking.”

  I slept until close to dinnertime. When I finally woke up, I found a note from the boys that they are playing blackjack and to come and find them so we can go to dinner.

  P.S. I made Brad shower again while you were sleeping.

  That brings a smile to my face. I felt bad for blaming it on Brad, but I knew that it was his smell, the smell of beer and cigarettes, that was making me sick to my stomach. If I could avoid those two smells until we get back home, I would be fine. Problem with that was that almost everyone in Vegas was either smoking or drinking or both. In Vegas, everyone is allowed to walk down the sidewalk with a drink in their hands. Tonight was going to be challenging.

  I made it through the next couple of days without another puking incident. Maybe I really was just catching a bug. I would believe that if I wasn’t sleeping all the time. I fell asleep by the pool after sleeping for over ten hours the night before. I slept the entire trip home and went straight to bed as soon as Brad dropped me off.

  Now to find out what is really going on with me? All the boxes look the same. They all promise accuracy and quick results. Some have lines, others have plus or minus signs and then some even say “pregnant” or “not pregnant.”

  Crap!

  These are the times when Natalie would be the person I would call. She would tell me to close my eyes and pick a box; that I was going to get the same results no matter what. She would be right. I was over-thinking it, and no matter which brand I chose, it was going to tell me that I was pregnant. Maybe I should save myself the embarrassing purchase and just go to the doctor and pee on a stick there?

  No. I can do this. I can buy this nice blue and white box in front of me, and let it tell me that I’m pregnant. No counting lines, no decoding plus or minus signs. I was going to buy the one that spelled it out for me.

  Aside from the lady who cashed me out giving me a funny look, the trip was less embarrassing than I thought it was going to be. I tossed my purchase in my passenger’s seat and headed home. My mom should be fast asleep and my sister wasn’t coming home from her trip to Italy until tomorrow, so I shouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing me. Still, I slip it into my purse just in case.

  The results are what I expect them to be. I’m pregnant. The box says that the test is supposed to take up to five minutes before it gives you your results. Mine was done in less than two. I was either super pregnant or farther along than most people when they take these tests.

  I pick up the evidence and put it back in the bag from the drugstore. I don’t want to tell my mom yet. I know she will be supportive. I’m not scared to tell her. I’m scared that once I tell someone else that it becomes real. I’m single, living at home with my mom, still in college, and now pregnant.

  What about Ethan? How do I tell him? I was just starting to feel like we were on track and that I was ready to see if maybe we still had a future together. Well, I know the answer to that question. Ready or not we have a future together, at least for the next eighteen years or so. I need to call him, tell him. If I’m as far along as I think I am, as far along as I know I have to be, then I will probably start showing sooner rather than later. I don’t want someone else to tell him.

  I’m depositing the evidence in the trash can outside when Brad pulls up. For some reason I want to tell him. I want to run to him and tell him. I don’t, knowing that the reality of the situation is that I need to keep it a secret, at least until I find a way to tell Ethan.

  “Hey. What’s going on?”

  “Not much. What are you doing here?”

  “I can’t seem to find my MP3 player, and I was hoping that it ended up in your bag. I checked everywhere else so you’re my last hope. If you don’t have it then I probably left it in the hotel room.”

  “Oh. I haven’t unpacked yet. You’re welcome to look through my bags if you want. I left them all sitting in the living room.”

  We headed inside and together took my bags up to my room. I was trying to act casual. I can feel that I’m close to the edge. I wanted to burst with excitement. My situation is not even close to ideal, but I can’t help but feel excited. Having a baby is a blessing. My blessing is coming at a very inconvenient time, but I don’t care.

  We found Brad’s MP3 player and he took off. I did the math and realized that it’s past midnight now in England. I should have sent Ethan a text. I should have called him as soon as I found out. Maybe I got a false
positive. Those tests can’t always be accurate. Maybe I should make an appointment with the doctor just to make sure.

  The doctor confirms what the test said—I’m pregnant. We did the math since I know when the baby was conceived, and he estimated that I am due in early April. I have four days before school starts back up. That gives me this weekend to find a way to tell Ethan.

  I left the doctor’s office and headed for work. I’m running late, and there’s so much on my mind that I don’t even see the other car coming. I remember a flash of light, the sound of the cars hitting, and the pain in my shoulder. After that, everything goes black.

  When I wake up, I’m in the hospital. I immediately know why, and my hand goes to my stomach. I have a brace on my right shoulder, but it doesn’t appear that anything else is wrong with me. I’m not attached to any machines. I don’t even have an IV in my arm.

  The sound of a crash down the hall flashes me back to the accident. I hear the metal scrapings, the loud boom, but I also hear something else, something quieter. I glance over at the clock on the wall and see that it’s after three. My appointment was at eleven, and it took about forty minutes. It must have been close to noon when the accident happened.

  Ethan. That sound was my phone.

  I scoot to the side of the bed and stand. I need to call my mom. I need to find out about my car. I need to get home and pack.

  I can’t sit around, I don’t have time. I remember what I was thinking about. I was thinking about going to London. I was thinking about going to Ethan, telling him about the baby, telling him I was ready.

  A nurse comes around the corner and greets me with a warm smile.

  “I see you are awake and moving around okay.”

  “Yes. I’m fine. Can I go home now?”

  “I understand that being here is not fun, but the doctor has been waiting for you to wake up so he can examine you. I will page him, and then, he will let you know when you can go home. Your mom is on her way here right now.”

  “Thanks. Do you know how long before the doctor comes in?”

  “Let me go page him. It shouldn’t be too long.”