Have you ever been woken up violently in the night, by your own body? That's what my stomach did. I was dreaming away peacefully until the nausea hit so hard it woke me up. I barely had time to comprehend how miserable I felt before I had to make a break for the bathroom, shoving Grayson out of bed accidentally in the process.
I didn't make it in time, throwing up a little down the front of my shirt before finally skidding in front of the toilet. Gripping the edge of the seat, I emptied my stomach completely. A few seconds in, I felt Grayson holding back my hair from my face.
"I'm okay," I tried to squeak out–right as I vomited again.
"Shh, it's okay, don't talk," he said, reaching over my shoulder and flushing the toilet. "Breath whenever you feel like you can."
That was easier said than executed. Finally I was done–but the nausea was still hovering over me. Wiping my mouth, I whispered, "I'm so sorry."
"No, no," he said a little frantically. "Don't be sorry, Jacks, you're clearly sick."
"You should go back to sleep," I said feebly, wishing my mouth didn't taste so awful.
Grayson shook his head. "That's okay, let me stay up with you."
A horrible thought crossed my mind. "Did I throw up on your sheets?" I asked, horrified.
I could tell that he considered lying for a second. "Just a little."
"Oh my gosh." That was the end of me holding it together. Tears welled up in my eyes and I covered my face, mortified.
"Oh, Jackie, don't cry," he murmured sympathetically. "Sweetheart, it's okay. You don't need to be upset, everyone throws up once in a while."
"B-but I wrecked your sheets, and I'm keeping you awake even though you're tired," I sobbed. This was the last straw after an achingly long week.
"You're just keeping yourself awake, and I can easily change the sheets," he said soothingly. A hair tie appeared in his hands and I cried as he put my hair in a real ponytail. "Now how about I find you some clean clothes, hmm?"
A new wave of sadness hit. "I don't have any clean comfy clothes," I confessed, the tears coming thicker with this announcement.
Grayson looked genuinely heartbroken for me. "Oh, Jackie," he said, hugging me–or at least sort of comforting me while trying to hold my soiled shirt away from himself. "I'll be right back, okay?"
I nodded miserably and sat on the cold bathroom floor, tracing the grooves of the tiles with my fingertip. A moment later, the door opened and Grayson knelt down to hand me one of his long, white undershirts.
"Change into this for now, okay? I'm going to remake the bed," he said.
I nodded and he kissed my forehead. Slowly, I managed to pull off my t-shirt. Then I removed my pants after discovering that they were wrecked, too. So I wiggled into Grayson's shirt, wearing only that and my underwear. At least it was long enough to pass as a dress.
I'd stopped crying by the time Grayson returned, but I still felt both sick and sad. He sat down next to me on the floor again, this time handing me a warm mug. "I made you tea. It should help," he said quietly.
"Thank you," I mumbled. "I must've eaten something foul, although I don't see how it could've hit me this late. Dinner was hours ago."
"Foul?" he teased. "You're picking up on my accent."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't be ridiculous; you can't pick up on an accent in a few months. It's impossible."
"Then what's this 'foul' business?" he said, clearly trying to lighten the mood. It was working, because my mouth was smiling against my will.
"I don't know, okay?" I laughed. "And your Canadian food is foul; it made me sick."
"We don't know that, it could've been anything," he said defensively. "You just like roasting on our food."
"Yeah, I do. It's..." I trailed off, my smile melting as I processed some of his words.
It could've been anything.
Grayson seemed to have the same idea at that exact second, because our eyes met in terrified silence. The notion was so scary that I threw up again. It was unexpected as I leaned over the toilet again, pouring out my guts.
"Okay, calm down," Grayson said in alarm as I finished vomiting and started panic-breathing: short little gasps that never had exhales to go with them.
"Grayson," I said, my eyes wild.
He gripped my shoulders. "Let's not panic, we don't know for sure," he said firmly.
"It's really likely," I whispered, frantically doing math in my head. I'd be about three months along by now–right in the window of peak morning sickness. And now I was throwing up with no explanation.
"Jackie. Jackie!" I hadn't realized he was saying my name. Stricken, I looked at him and tried to process his words.
"Jackie, do you want to take a test?" he asked, slowly, so I'd understand him. "I have some. You want to use one?"
"You have tests? Why do you have tests?" I whispered, unable to breathe properly.
"Just as an emergency preparation," he said. Now I felt his hand on my back, rubbing reassuring circles that somewhat helped my nerves. He handed me a thin cardboard box, which weighed about a thousand pounds in my palm.
"Okay," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut.
Grayson shot me one last worried look before stepping out of the bathroom. My hands were shaking as I undid the packaging and read the directions. I never thought I'd have to take a pregnancy test. Ever. Yet here I was.
As soon as I was done, I opened the door so Grayson could come in. His face was paler than a sheet. I couldn't even meet his eyes, I felt so guilty.
"It'll be okay, Jackie. For one, I really doubt you're actually pregnant, but even if you are, I promise I've got your back," he said softly.
My eyes watered as I whispered, "I know, but..." But nothing could change how catastrophic things could get in a matter of minutes.
"I know," he murmured, hugging me. That's when it all came crashing down. I was so spent that I simply walked into his arms and hid my face in his shirt.
I choked on a sob. "I'm scared."
"I'm scared too," he said, his entire body shivering. "But I know it's nothing compared to what you're feeling."
He held me until the timer went off, keeping his fingers in my hair to clutch my head to his chest. I didn't even want to think about what would happen if it was positive. I could only keep my mind blank and away from any horrible scenarios.
The timer began blaring and I quickly turned it off, the loud noise grating against my ears. Except I didn't move to take the test.
"Do you want me to check?" Grayson offered, which I thought was pretty brave of him.
"Okay," I said meekly, closing my eyes and sinking down against the back of the door.
He went over to the counter, and I chose not to look. I didn't want to listen either, but I didn't have much of a choice.
"Jackie," he said quietly.
I knew just from his tone. But I still heard him loud and clear as he said, "I'm sorry, Jackie."
"No, no, no, I can't be pregnant," I said, as if the words would somehow become true if I said them with enough meaning. "I can't be." I looked up at him, at a loss for any other words.
Grayson just looked...ruined. He kneeled in front of me and pulled me into a hug, soaking up my tears as I silently cried. Even though I knew he wouldn't let go for a long time, I barely felt him. I just felt empty on the inside, even if the opposite was true.
"Grayson, what do I do?" I asked, unable to think through my despair. I didn't know how to get up off the floor. I didn't know how to properly function having this knowledge.
"Do you want some of your tea?" he asked timidly. I shook my head; tea would do nothing now. It was all a waste. Everything.
"Okay, here's what we're going to do," he said, taking a tissue and wiping my puffy eyes. "You're going to lay down and try to clear your head. Tomorrow we'll take you to the doctor just to check, okay?"
I shook my head. "It's real," I said flatly. The universe had thrown me so many twists and turns; of course this was real on top of it.
"We're still going to check. But for now I need you to calm down before you make yourself sick," Grayson said. He tried pulling me to my feet, but I could only stare listlessly at the floor.
"Jackie," he pleaded. I finally met his hazel eyes, feeling nothing but guilt. I'd ruined my life, I'd ruined his.
Did Grayson even want kids? Probably not.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
His gaze looked shattered as he murmured, "We both know we share the blame. So no more apologies."
"But—"
"Jackie, I can't hear you blame yourself," he blurted out, then slapped a hand over his own mouth.
That was something I could take and grasp. I slowly nodded, saying quietly, "Okay."
Grayson closed his eyes momentarily before standing again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. If you need to say it's your fault, okay, but it'll just hurt you."
He was right, unfortunately. So I just nodded and let him help me up. He tucked me into bed, into the freshly changed sheets. He put my tea on the nightstand where I could reach it, along with a glass of water. "You need anything else?"
"No," I said blankly. I didn't know what I needed.
Grayson laid down next to me, except he hugged me around the waist and didn't let go. "Promise me you'll let me help you," he said softly. "Promise me you won't try to hold onto all your feelings by yourself."
What did that mean? My feelings were a disaster right now, and I certainly couldn't control them enough to pass some of their weight to Grayson. But I nodded, saying, "Okay."
He buried his face in my shoulder, his voice quavering as he said, "We'll get through this together. Okay Jacks?"
"Okay." He didn't understand.
Together only made it a thousand times worse.