I know what you're thinking. Yeah me too, Max shouldn't . . . Or do you feel different?
A sudden wave of nausea woke me up. As I sat up, I waited to know exactly what's actually going on with my body and then, my brain screamed at me to *run!* I ran into the toilet and puked up the biryani I had for dinner last night at Indira Ganti, an Indian restaurant. I flushed, rinsed my mouth with Listerine, and brushed my teeth. I was about leaving the bathroom, when another wave overcame me and this time around, the whole pepper, meat and vegetables came running out. I flushed, rinsed and brushed again. What a sad way to start the day I'm turning thirty, morning sickness is really a *shitty thing*. I collapsed onto the floor and moaned loudly in other to wake up Jon so that he can rescue me.Jon still laid on the bed sleeping. Max would have heard me puking, he's a very light sleeper. I sat there on the bathroom floor and moaned louder this time, Jon still couldn't hear me. I stood up from the cold tile and returned to bed, whimpering, "cuddle me."Jon snored in response.I m
I got to work to see Vanessa waiting in my office with an assortment of different colors of roses, arranged in a beautiful flowery pattern and what looks like a plain but beautiful wrapped gift. "Happy birthday, love!" She exclaimed."You remembered!" I said. "Oh love! These roses are so gorgeous!""I can't forget the day an amazing and beautiful friend like you was born, silly," she said, placing the vase of flowers on my desk. "So, how are you feeling today?"The question sounds suspicious. So I searched her face for something or anything that shows she knows that I had morning sickness. But all I'm seeing is a smiling Vanessa who thinks she's best friends with Angelina jolie."I'm fine. Why?" I finally asked."I'm just curious of what it feels like to be thirty. You know. Do you feel any different being thirty?" She asked in a child-like tone. Vanessa is still twenty-eight for another few weeks. She will be twenty-nine first before getting to the *almighty* thirty. I envy her."A
I've been in my office since after lunch, recieving phone calls, more birthday e-mails, and a stream of annoying office visits from colleagues. But still nothing from Sandra or Max. How can Sandra be so heartless, vile and wicked? First she stole my fiance, and now she won't apologize by calling to wish me a happy birthday? What kind of a person is she? And, Max, I can't believe after five and a half years together? I calmed myself down and recollected my thoughts. There's only one last possibility: maybe they sent a card, note, or gift to my apartment, which I haven't returned to in days . . .* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *After my facials, I took a cab to my apartment. I stopped at the lobby, took my mail, unlocked my door and inspected my stash. There are cards from my parents; my younger brother, Aiden; my high school boyfriend, Tristan; my grandmother; and my old friend from home, Dixie. I picked up the last card and it has no return address. My heart started beating fast.
I sauntered into Jon's apartment with a positive feeling that this night is going to be great. Jon whistled. "You look fabulous."Of course, I am *fabulous* and heaven knows this for a fact. I looked repulsively at Jon, who is wearing ripped dirty blue jeans, black sweater, and scuffed shoes. I remembered Vanessa's disapproving face when I told her about Jon. Perhaps this is the part of Jon she disapproves of, he's disorganized. A disorganized nonchalant sexy man—bad *combo.*"Uhmm. Thanks. No offense, but you don't look near fab yourself," I said. "No offense taken," Jon said."Please change. Tone it up a little..... FYI you look rough. Who wears ripped jeans with scuffed shoes? Are you homeless?""I'm not changing," he said stubbornly."Oh Jon. Why don't you put on some Khakis, t-shirt or a sweater purchased within the last three years?""I'm wearing this," Jon said. I finally gave in after arguing for some minutes. After all no one will be looking at Jon tonight. I'll be the cent
Since the past weeks, Jon and I have been falling apart. Our once perfect sex life, now feels like a routine. I think it is the stress caused by the life changing plans we're about to embark on. We're yet to look for an apartment, plan the wedding, and of course, our baby is on the way. The issue is, it's not just the plans, Jon and I are at the verge of a breakup. We fight a lot so much. He always accuse me of being obsessed with Max and Sandra, that he's tired of my endless questions about them, and that he thinks it's unhealthy to spend so much time guessing what they might be up to. Despite all his accusations, I will keep trying to make things work with Jon. I even booked us flights to Indy, though I haven't told him yet. That's a nice start, right? What tugged on my chest the most even more than our relationship gloom is that a baby is in the middle of all of this. I can remember the day I found out I was pregnant and how I was unexplainably happy, but right now I'm not even
We arrived Indianapolis late in the evening for the big introduction. I found my father waiting at baggage claim, smiling. My father is a true representation of what you call polished. He has full head of dark hair always in place, tall and he looks fitter than men of his age. He wore a light blue polo shirt, well pressed khakis and dark brown loafer with tassels. My father look so healthy with a nice posture befitting for a doctor."Daddy!" I squealed as Jon and I approached him."Hi baby," he said, opening his arms wide to embrace me. I inhaled his aftershave, seems he just showered before his drive over. "It's so nice to see you," I said in my 'daddy's little girl' border-line baby-talk voice. "You too, sweetie."My father and I don't know any other way to interact. If we are alone for a long time, we'll fall silent and awkward. But on the surface, in front of an audience, we fulfill our various saliently and traditional roles—roles that makes us feel both comfortable. But, when
Even my boyfriend isn't interested in what I'm saying, he doesn't care that my family are insensitive to my suffering, and at the same time, they're planning a wedding right in front of someone who planned a wedding but didn't wed. I sighed and yanked open the refrigerator with a boiling rage, a bottle of Heinz ketchup flew from the side shelf onto the floor. "Is everything alright in there?" my mother asked from the living room. "Yeah!" I said, as Jon replaced the ketchup and grabbed another beer. I took a deep breath, and followed him back to the living room to see my mother and Dianne talking about the guest list."Two hundred seems just about right," Dianne said."Two hundred is the bare minimum and it adds up fast. You're going to realize that. Let's see, if your parents invite twenty couples, and we invite twenty couples, that's eighty guests right there," my mother said."True," Dianne said. "And I'm going to invite a lot of people from Good Haven.""Well, that should cut do
I woke up to a light tapping at my door. It's already morning, my eyes feel so heavy due to the intensed crying I did last night. And yet, I still don't feel any better. "Tessy, are you awake?" my mother asked.Her soothing tone—an unnatural one for her—made me feel even worse. "Yeah. Come in," I said. I felt a wave of morning sickness.She opened the door, crossed my room, and sat on the foot of my bed. "Sweetie. Don't be so upset," she said, patting my legs through the covers."I can't help it. I know you hate him.""I like Jon," she said unconvincingly."No, you don't. After last night? He barely said anything—except to announce that he plans to leave me someday."She gave me a puzzled look. "Leave you?""The 'second wife' joke," I said, adjusting my pillow."Well, you don't have plans to marry *that boy* anyway, do you?" She whispered.I shrugged. "Maybe," I whimpered. The way she said *that boy* told the full story. My mother looked anxious. "Jon is probably just your rebound