Emma was oddly quiet the next morning after my job interview. We had applied for jobs. I, a car dealer, and Emma, a manager at a Walmart.
I found her in the bathroom. She was doubled over the toilet, throwing up.
"Are you ok? Are you sick?" I asked. Emma held up a finger for me to wait.
"I. Think. So," she said between getting sick.
"Um, you want me to call via Christi clinic?"
"Yeah, sure."
We arrived a bit later.
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We arrived at my appointment at around noon. It wasn't busy, thank goodness.
"Mrs. Harper?" it was a woman nurse with brown hair in a tight bun, and pink nurse clothes.
We walked with her to a room, and my doctor, Dr. Wilson, checked me up.
"I think you need a sonogram."
"Wait. I'm pregnant?"
"I don't know. Did you two...?"
"Uhm... Yes, sir. About a month ago." Eric said, mustering enough courage, despite pink tipped ears and cheeks.
"Well, I'm afraid you are in high risk."
I am pregnant?