“No… not again…” I hugged the basin of the toilet, gripping the porcelain with everything in me. “Why won’t it stop?” I moaned into the rug. Once I had hit an estimated 7 weeks, the morning sickness had reared its ugly head, but it wasn’t until my hormones really started ramping up that I felt this nonstop urge to hurl throughout the day.
“It’s OK, Hadwee,” Maverick whispered as he patted my hair. “It’s OK. See?” He handed me his action figure as if it were some sort of consolation. I let the doll knock to the ground as another wave of nausea racked through my system.
“Thanks, buddy.” I managed between hick-ups. “But I need you to go find August. Can you do that?” Just sending him away for the five minutes of peace it would bring would be enough. I didn’t like puking with an audience.
