The Boyfriend Backtrack

Chapter 2

We are driving back to Kevin's place in White Plains when I start to feel really bad. I close my eyes and try to calm myself down, thinking that this is just one of those migraine attacks I usually get.

Kevin talks to me, "Are you okay?"

I take a second to assess the situation before answering him, "I think I'm having a migraine attack."

"There's Advil in the glove compartment."

Advil. In the compartment. Really. I open my eyes and look for the meds. "Why do you have Advil here?"

"Because of you, silly," He tells me, eyes still on the road. I can imagine him rolling his eyes as he said it.

I pop the capsule in my mouth and grab the bottle of water on the dashboard. "Even the bottle of water here?" I gulp and feel the capsule slide down my throat.

Kevin glances at it nervously, "That's been sitting there since I last drove the car."

I stick out my tongue, "Ugh. I think I'm going to be sick."

Kevin shakes his head, laughing slightly, his hands still on the steering wheel. "I'm sure it's fine, honey."

"It tastes like the Ganges River," I tell him, raising my voice a little.

Kevin, who has been to India, knows better than this, of course. "You don't know what the Ganges tastes like."

And I suppose he does, if he even just stuck his toe out in the river. I press my lips trying to hold in what feels like tonight's dinner. I tell him quickly, "No, I think I'm really going to be sick. We need to pull over."

"What, here?"

We're in the middle of EDSA, sure. But I can feel myself hurling and I can't throw up in the car, or in my bag (that's just not an option, since Kevin's mom bought this for me), or worse, in my mouth. I've never even thrown up with Kevin around. I haven't puked since my freshman year in University. That's a pretty good record.

"Okay, let me just get to this . . ." He looks at the rear view mirror and safely pulls over. I open the door instantly and spit.

"I'm not great at this," I say.

Kevin remains on the driver's side, throwing me quick glances. He's not great with sick people. There was one weekend when I had a cold and we basically had a whole box of tissues sitting between us the whole time. He tells me, "I don't think anyone can be great at puking."

I laugh, "Oh, you should see my friend . . ." I stop midway to hurl.

Kevin's eyes dart toward me, "So this is prematurely referring to our vows, huh? Through sickness and health?"

I throw him a look. He backs off. "Hey, honey, we're only a few minutes away from your sister's. Do you want to take a detour?"

Yes, I thought, still bent down over the car seat. Seeing my sister Patty would be really good, especially now that I've just gotten engaged. She made up this rule once that I can only visit her house at midnight in times of great desperation (like being sick and/or dying). I suspect that this rule was originally created by Anton, her husband, who found our sister-bonding bad for his baby (but this was when Patty was pregnant with their first child, bratty Miles).

But since Patty is no longer lactating and is not with child, I'm thinking that having delusions of other men while my boyfriend is proposing to me is way worse than dying and counts as an emergency. Plus, there's the puking on the side of the road. A once-in-a-decade occurrence, I suppose?