Breathe: A Love’s Complicated Novel Read online

  “Tell Matt hi for us,” Chris says before he shuts the door and Kevin drives off.

  The ride to my parents’ house goes smoothly as the driver hums to the radio and I stare out the window. The city moves by at a brisk pace even though we’re not going very fast. Chicago traffic is like no other city I’ve ever visited. No matter the time of day or night, the traffic crawls like a turtle through peanut butter.

  When I arrive at the house, a weight that I didn’t even realize I was carrying lets go. When I’m sick I want equal parts to be left alone and for Mom to take care of me. Before I’ve made it up the steps, my dad is standing on the porch waiting for me.

  “Hey, peanut,” he says and holds out his arms for a hug. I drop my bags on the step and lean in for one of my dad’s hugs. His smell, a combination of Old Spice and soap, envelops me.

  “Hi,” I say to his chest.

  “It’s been a while. We’re glad to see you. There are brownies in the kitchen if you want a snack.” My dad knows that I have the world’s biggest sweet tooth. It’s one of the reasons I run.

  “That sounds good, but I’d like to change first.”

  He smiles and picks up my bag, then steps into the house. I stop and chat with Mom for a few before I head back to my room. There is something so unique about the smell of our house that when I’m gone for a while and return, an un-namable emotion comes over me.

  I decide to take a fast shower, and less than ten minutes later, I’m wrapped in a towel with a turban of sorts holding my mass of hair at bay. I am digging through my clothes for a pair of sweats and a T-shirt when I hear my phone ding.

  Matt: Hey, baby. You home yet?

  Matt: Do I need to pick up something for dinner?

  Matt: Where are you?

  I guess I didn’t turn my phone off airplane mode when I landed so when it connected to WiFi all Matt’s messages came through.

  Amber: Hey! I just saw these. I’m with my parents.

  Matt: Is everything okay?

  Amber: Yeah.

  Matt: Why didn’t you come home?

  Amber: I’m not feeling well and I just wanted my mom.

  Three dots appear to signify he is typing. Then they disappear and the phone rings.

  “Hello,” I say. My voice wavers with nerves.

  “Did something happen while you were gone?”

  “Of course not. It’s just that I’m a really bad patient when I’m sick. I figured Mom would nurse me back to health, then I would come home to your house when I’m feeling better.” I begin pacing my bedroom.

  His next statement is something I don’t expect. “This is your home—with me. I know it didn’t happen in a traditional manner, but I love waking up to you every morning—whether you’re sick or not.” The moths in my stomach turn to butterflies and I start crying. The words won’t come so I stop pacing and sink into my bed.

  “Amber?” he says. “Why are you crying?”

  “They’re happy tears,” I say. They really are tears of joy. After Jake, I never thought I’d allow myself to experience this type of feeling again.

  “I love you, Matt, and I’m so glad that you love me too.” And I am. I’m ecstatic to know that even with all my flaws he still loves me.

  “Then come home. I want you to crawl into our bed and fix you soup.” I melt into a puddle of happiness.

  “As much as I want to, I’m already here, so I’m going to stay tonight and I’ll come home tomorrow.” My voice wavers because on one hand I want to go straight to him, but on the other I just want my mom.

  “I understand,” he says. “I really miss you but relax tonight and tell your parents hi. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I can tell he’s not super excited but he gets me.

  “I love you, Matt. Thank you for understanding. I’ll see you tomorrow.” It’s interesting that for the first time in a very long time, I’m not scared to tell him I love him. The fear of being vulnerable with him is lessoning with each conversation that we have where he accepts me for me.

  I start to say, “I love you,” when FaceTime starts ringing through the call. I pull the phone away from my ear and look at the screen to see Matt’s face and I swoon.

  Holding the phone out, I answer the call.

  “I just want to see your face, but it looks like I get to see more than that.” Looking down, I realize I’m still wearing a towel and I don’t even care. I mean, he’s seen all of me.

  “The phone started ringing when I was digging for some clothes after my shower, so this is what you get.” I can’t contain my smile because I know he probably has something snarky to say, instead he asks me how I’m really doing.

  “Do you have a cold or something?”

  “Not a cold, I think it’s just some sort of stomach bug. I hurled all over Geoff’s bathroom yesterday and on the way home I was really nauseated.”

  “Oh,” he says. “Since you’re a bit barfy, I’ll allow you to stay there tonight. But I will be there tomorrow to pick you up.” His nose wrinkles up as if he smells something bad.

  “Barfy? I didn’t know that was a real word,” I laughingly say to him, making sure to hold my towel together.

  “Well, it’s what Aly calls it when she doesn’t feel well and I guess I adopted it.” I love hearing him talk about her. Even though he and Miles aren’t super close, I can tell by the stories he tells me about Aly that he adores her.

  “You need to go rest,” he tells me. Then he points at me through the phone before continuing, “Get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you, Red.”

  Leaning into the phone, I make a kissy face before responding. “Love you too. See you tomorrow.”

  Mom and I stayed up talking until the wee hours of the morning and I enjoyed it. Drinking a cup of tea in your pajamas and laughing with your mom really does something to your soul. This morning I woke with the sun, feeling like I needed to be somewhere. Then I realized I took the day off from work, so I don’t have anywhere to be by a certain time. I stretch, then pad my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth and take care of business when a horrible nausea wave sweeps over my body and I find myself running to the toilet.

  A few minutes later, I’m sitting on the floor by the toilet trying to keep it together but I can’t stop the tears. I don’t want to deal with this today. I just want to go home to Matt but I can’t go to his house if I’m sick. He doesn’t need to this spread around the fire station.

  About the time I think I feel good enough to go get something to drink, another wave hits me. A couple minutes later I hear Mom calling for me, but I don’t have the energy to call out, so I just curl up on the rug in front of the bathtub and lie there with my eyes closed praying this feeling of death goes away soon.

  The sound of doors opening and closing grows louder as Mom makes her way through the house looking for me. I’m sure her “one of my children isn’t all right” sixth sense is kicking in. Between she and my dad, Mom’s the one that’s calm when her children are hurt. Dad worked so much that he didn’t tend to us when we were sick and it still shows, twenty-something years later.

  The door to the bathroom opens and she sees me curled up on the floor. “Amber, are you okay, sweetie?” I told you she was calm.

  “I don’t feel well,” I croak out. My voice is hoarse from yacking and my insides are churning like a drain full of water—except I haven’t eaten or drank anything in hours.

  “Do you think it’s a bug of some sort?” she asks, stepping over me and reaching into the cabinet for a washcloth. She turns on the cool water and wets it before placing it on the back of my neck. Then she feels my forehead for fever. “No fever, but you are a bit pale.”

  She steps out of the bathroom to the hall closet and brings in a super fuzzy blanket and covers me up. “Lie here for a few and I’ll grab you some ginger ale and crackers to see if that helps.” I groan and close my eyes, not wanting to move for fear of puking again.

  A few minutes later she comes back in with a glass full of ice a
nd ginger ale and a package of crackers. “Try this and see if it stays down. I called Dr. Jane and the office said the stomach bug is going around, but if you’re not better in a couple of days I’ll call again. Do you want me to help you up?”

  I shake my head slightly and just lie still. Until another wave of nausea strikes and I bolt upright. Mom jumps out of the way as I make it to the toilet just in time. She reaches for my hair and holds it back with one hand while she digs in the drawer for a hair tie to keep it away from my face. “I think I’m going to die,” I groan and lean back on my heels.

  “I promise you’re not going to die, that doesn’t mean you won’t feel like it,” she says. And she’s probably correct, but I hate to barf. It’s one of my least favorite things and a reason I’m not a big drinker. If I’m going to consume something, I don’t want to see it again a couple hours later.

  “I think I’m just going to lie here some more,” I say and curl up under the blanket again.

  “Okay, honey, I’ll come check on you in a little while,” she says, then she leaves me to rest in peace.

  Chapter 20

  After spending most of the day on the bathroom floor and the couch, I text Matt to tell him I am still puking and don’t want to share so I am staying with my parents for a couple days. He is more than understanding, because barfing is no fun for anyone.

  By the third day of waking up feeling like death I ask Mom to take me to see Dr. Jane.

  “Amber Burke,” the nurse calls from the doorway. Mom reaches out to hold onto my elbow because she’s fearful I’m going to fall over. Not eating or drinking much the past few days has left me feeling weak. “Mom, we’ll be in the last room on the right,” the nurse says pointing down the hallway. “But first we’re going to stop here for a weight check.” Before she says anything else, I’ve removed my flip-flops and stepped onto the scale. On any normal day I’d refuse, because every time I get on someone else’s scale I become paranoid about my weight but today I don’t care.

  She comments that I’m down about seven pounds from the last time I was at the office, though I can’t remember when that was. I guess that’s better than being up seven pounds. I slide my feet back into my flip-flops and make my way to the exam room and sit on the table.

  “What are you here for today, Amber?” the nurse asks. Before I can speak up, Mom answers for me.

  “She’s been vomiting for days, though she hasn’t had a fever. Her appetite is gone and she can hardly keep anything down.”

  “Okay,” the nurse says and nods as she types the notes into the computer. “Based on your chart, the only medication you take is birth control. Is that correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Thank you for confirming that. Now I’m going to take your temperature and check your blood pressure.”

  When she finishes taking my vitals and entering the results into my medical record, she says, “Give us a few minutes and Dr. Jane will be in. Do you need a bucket?”

  “Yes, please. Just in case,” I say. I’m certain I won’t be the first or the last to vomit in this office.

  A minute or so later she returns with a pink pan lined with paper towels and places it on the table next to me.

  I curl up into a ball on the table and close my eyes until Dr. Jane makes it to my room. “Hi, Amber, how are you doing?” she says as she opens the door. “Not too well, I see.”

  Well, hello, Captain Obvious, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t pretty sure I am dying.

  “Can you sit up?” she asks.

  “Sure,” I say praying that I don’t puke on her.

  “If you’re feeling like you can’t control it just grab the pan,” she says. “But in the meantime, make sure you’re breathing in and out through your mouth.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Since the weekend, I was sick on Saturday but then Sunday I was fine for the most part.” I close my eyes as a wave of nausea hits and I count to five focusing on something else and try to breathe in and out like she said.

  “Well, you don’t have a fever and everything else seems normal. Could you be pregnant?”

  Oh shit. Could I be pregnant? Did I miss a pill? I can’t remember. I was so focused on Matt for weeks, that I have no idea whether I missed one or not.

  “Um,” I say. “I guess I could be, but I don’t think so.” Dear god, please don’t let me be pregnant. What if Matt doesn’t want children? We haven’t even talked about it.

  “Since you’re not sure, let’s do a urine test and a blood test. No matter what I’ll give you something for the nausea so you can get back to your daily routine.” She opens the cabinet and gives me a specimen container and points me to the bathroom next door. “We’ll be right here. Take your time.”

  About twenty minutes later, Dr. Jane comes back into the room smiling. “If this is any indication of how your body reacts to pregnancy, you’re going to feel like this for the next couple months. But I can give you something to make it a bit more bearable if you think you want it.” Her delivery is so nonchalant that you’d think she wasn’t upending someone’s life with news like this.

  “Are you sure?” I ask. Because I can’t believe the words that are coming out of her mouth.

  “The urine test was positive. We will do a blood test before you leave to confirm but I’m sure.”

  I’ve been seeing Dr. Jane since I was a child so it’s not as though she doesn’t know me. Mom is smiling, which is a shock considering I’m not married. My parents have always tried to encourage the natural order of things—marriage then babies.

  “We’ll take blood and do an ultrasound today. Then I’ll give you a recommendation for an OB that I work with.”

  I just nod in response. I’m not ready for this. I still need my mom; how can I be a mom?

  “Thanks, Jane,” Mom says smiling.

  After blood work and an ultrasound, it’s confirmed. I’m pregnant. I also feel like I’m going to hurl again and this time I’m not sure whether it’s the stress or the baby. I run to the bathroom and dry heave. I rinse my mouth and wash my hands and face before heading to the car.

  The whole drive home Mom talks animatedly about how excited she is about having a grandchild. I’m not excited and I don’t know how to say that to her, so I just lean my head on the window and close my eyes.

  Gathering my courage, I say, “Mom, please don’t tell anyone. Not even Dad or Chris.” I take a deep breath and continue, “Before anyone else knows, I need to tell Matt and I’m not sure when or how to do that.”

  “Are you sure? Your father will be super excited. Plus, you know I don’t keep things like this from him.” I know she’s excited but I also know she won’t tell Dad before I’m ready.

  She pulls in the drive way and turns off the car before turning to face me. She takes my hand in hers and says, “I know having a baby isn’t in your plan right now, but no matter what happens, you can stay with us if you need to.”

  Oh hell, I’m not going to live with my parents with a baby. “I don’t think that is necessary. Just give me a little while to figure out how to tell Matt. He needs to know before anyone else.”

  “Agreed,” she says opening the door and getting out. “If you’d like to invite him over, I’ll make lasagna and you can tell everyone at once.”

  Is she crazy? I’m not going to tell Matt I’m pregnant in front of my dad. That’s insane.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say and head straight to my bedroom to lie down.

  A couple hours later, I decide I have to tell someone, so I text Carrigan.

  Amber: Are you sitting down?

  Carrigan: Yes, why?

  Amber: Can you keep a secret—and I’m serious—DO NOT TELL MY BROTHER!

  Carrigan: Of course, I can.

  Amber: Promise?

  Carrigan: I promise. What is wrong?

  Amber: Umm . . .

  Carrigan: Just spit it out, girl.

  Amber: Well, I’m pregna
nt.

  I can imagine her squealing in her chair in front of the whole office. Geez, my brother is going to find out from my best friend. Not the way I planned this.

  Carrigan: OMG! OMG! Are you serious?

  Amber: Yep, I’m serious.

  Carrigan: Have you told Matt? What did he say?

  Carrigan: I’m going to be an aunt!

  Amber: I haven’t told him yet.

  Carrigan: Why not?

  Amber: Because I thought I had a demon in my body, not a baby.

  Carrigan: So tell him. TODAY!

  Amber: I will. I just have to find the words.

  Carrigan: The words are: Matt, I’m pregnant.

  Amber: Ha ha. It’s not quite that easy.

  Carrigan: I get it. I can’t imagine having to tell Whit something like that.

  Carrigan: If you need anything just let me know.

  Amber: Please don’t tell Chris. It’s something I need to do.

  Carrigan: Promise.

  Amber: I’ll call you later.

  Carrigan:

  Now I have to figure out how to tell Matt. Do I just blurt it out? Or sit him down to a nice meal and tell him? I decide to make it as joyous an occasion as possible.

  Amber: Hey! Are you busy?

  Matt: Hey, baby! Are you feeling better?

  Amber: Much better.

  The pills Dr. Jane gave me are already helping, so yes, I’m feeling much better.

  Matt: Good. Does that mean you’re coming home?

  Amber: You’re working, right?

  Talk about avoidance. I’m getting good at this.

  Matt: Yeah, but I get off at six. I can come get you if you want.

  Amber: How about we meet at Lemon & Lavender at seven? Does that work for you?

  Matt: Sure. I’ll see you there.

  Amber: Great. See you then.

  Matt: Are you sure you’re okay? Something seems off.

  Amber: All is good. See you tonight.

  Matt: I love you.

  Amber: Love you too.

  No matter what happens, I can do this. With or without Matt, I can take care of this baby. I think.