She bent awkwardly to set the bucket on the floor beside me, and then straightened slowly, one hand pressed to her swollen, about-to-pop belly. “If you’re going to puke, puke in that, okay?”
I nodded sloppily, and grabbed the bucket. “Okay.”
She stared down at me, one hand rubbing in a circle on her belly. “Zane says you’ve been a mess lately.”
I nodded again. “I think I’m feeling what some people call regret.”
“Eva?”
“She went away. Back to Yale. Buh-bye.” I clutched the bucket as nausea pressed against my teeth. “I don’t think I wanted her to, though.”
“She was really cool.”
“The coolest.” I fought it back. “Too cool for me.”
“That’s bullshit. You just came from different worlds, and she had to go back to hers, and you have yours here.” She hissed, pressing her hand more firmly against the side of her stomach.
I peered at her in consternation. “It’s not time, is it?”
She shook her head, wincing. “I don’t think so. Just Braxton-Hicks.”
“Whassat?”
“False contractions.”
“How d’you know if they’re real, then?” The nausea wasn’t going away, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.
I probably shouldn’t have had that second bottle of Johnny, but fuck, the stupid feelings wouldn’t go away.
She didn’t respond for a minute. “Real contractions…they get more intense and closer together with time, and they’re evenly spaced. Braxton-Hicks are irregular, and eventually go away.”
“Where’s Zane?” I asked.
“The bar. Working. Covering for you, actually.” Her words were clipped, and even through my drunkenness I could see that she was in serious pain.
“Yeah, I kind of got a little shitty toward the end of the night.”
“It’s eleven p.m., Baxter.”
I laughed. “Oh. Um…oops?” I tried to sit up, and didn’t quite manage it, and actually only managed to make myself more nauseous. “It’s not every day you deal with heartbreak, after all.”
She laughed through a wince. “Heartbreak, Bax? Really?”
I shrugged, which was a mistake, since it only made me more nauseous. “I think so. I’m pretty sure, at least. I mean, I’ve only felt this way once before, and it ended almost exactly like this. Only, this time it feels even worse. I dunno, I’m not really too…you know, in touch with my feelings and shit.”
Oh god.
“And I’m gonna puke.” I mumbled the warning, just in time.
I spent the next several minutes purging, which did actually make me feel a good bit better, more clearheaded. Still hammered, but better.
“Oh god, Bax, that’s nasty.” Mara backed away. “I amnotdumping that for you.”
“Nah, I got it.” I made it to my feet, laboriously and unsteadily. “You sit.”
I had to move slowly and carefully, using the wall for balance occasionally, but I managed to dump my mess into the toilet, wash my hands, rinse my mouth and make it back to the living room where Mara was sprawled on the couch, hands on her belly, a frown of pained concentration on her face.
She pointed at three bottled waters. “Drink.”
