11. Lisa

As per routine, I wake up to an overwhelming wave of nausea. With a groan, I clutch my stomach and bury my face into the pillow, hoping that I can get this persistent stomach bug out of my system.

But just like every other morning these past two weeks, the nausea only worsens the longer I lay there, and I end up sprinting to the bathroom.

I’m sick of staying at home all day, but the thought of working while I’m in this state sounds even worse. This hellish stomach virus hasn’t seemed to get any better, so I decide it’s time to make a trip to the doctor. Maybe in all the craziness a few weeks ago, I got exposed to something dangerous when I was ‘traveling’ with Ozadus. We were in space, after all.

“When was your last period?” my practitioner, Dr. Cadence, asks as she takes my temperature with a forehead thermometer. She’s an older woman, around my mother’s age, and has a warm, wrinkled smile that comforts me.

“I dunno. About a month ago?” I say, rubbing my tired eyes with the back of my sleeve. I feel like a slob, wearing nothing but hoodies and sweatpants all week. I don’t need my period on top of that.

That said, I’m not stupid. I know what she’s getting at with that question. Doctors always ask that whenever I come in with a stomach issue, and they’ll force a test on me even if I say I haven’t had sex in a year. This time, though, she might actually have a point.

“I’ve always been a little irregular, though,” I add with a shrug, not wanting to even humor the notion right now. “Sometimes my periods are late because of stress, and other months they sneak up on me. I didn’t think too much of it, honestly.”

She nods, humming thoughtfully. “Well, your temperature is normal, so that’s a good sign,” she says as she sticks the thermometer back in her coat pocket. “And while late periods aren’t uncommon for you, I still need to ask. Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

I want to say no, but I can’t. My mind flashes back to the night with Ozadus, and my cheeks flush bright red. His deep voice, his strong hands, the long, dark hair that framed his face. The unprotected sex that had ensued on that ship.

We’d been reckless, sure, and the thought that I could be pregnant has crossed my mind over the past month or so. But the mere idea fills me with anxiety that I am not yet ready to face. So whenever those thoughts bubble up, I push them right back down. It is childish of me, sure, but it keeps me sane.

Still, it might be time to give up the heavy denial and face reality. I’m showing signs of morning sickness and my doctor clearly wants to help me. I’m not gonna lie to her, especially since she’ll probably make me take a test anyway.

“It’s… it’s possible, yeah,” I finally respond, avoiding her eyes.

Dr. Cadence nods. Her expression is sympathetic, clearly picking up on my nerves. “Let’s do a test then,” she says in a soft tone. She hands me a pregnancy test and shows me the way to the bathroom.

What follows is the longest fifteen minutes of my life as I await my results. The first pink line on the test has appeared, and I can only hope its companion doesn’t show up.

I sit on the toilet seat as I wait, staring off into space. I can’t help imagining what our child would look like. I don’t know much about how Kaleidian biology works. Would they look like a pure alien or a mixture of Kaleidian and human? And when they’re born, will they burst out of my stomach like some kind of horror movie?

The thought makes my stomach turn. The last thing I need is more nausea. So instead, I turn my attention back to the test and hope that there’s no alien taking refuge in my womb, that I just caught some nasty stomach bug and need some antibiotics.

“Please be negative,” I whisper aloud as if I can somehow will a potential pregnancy out of existence.

Then, as if to spite me, a second faint pink line appears on the stick. My blood runs cold.

Defeated, I toss the test into the trash can and make my way back to the office with tears in my eyes. Dr. Cadence doesn’t need to ask what the results are. The panicked expression on my face says it all.

“I recommend scheduling an appointment with your gynecologist as soon as possible,” she says, going through the pamphlets hanging on the wall. “You’ve only been sexually active with humans, correct?”

My face burns. “Uh… no. The guy I was with a couple of months ago was a Kaleidian.”

She pauses for a second, nodding. “I see. That changes a few things.” She sets the pamphlet in her hands aside and reaches for a different one.

My eyes go wide as saucers. “What do you mean? Are Kaleidian babies dangerous?” I ask, my voice trembling. Images of an alien child bursting out of my stomach run through my mind.

She turns to me with a startled expression. “Oh, not at all, sweetie! It’s nothing bad, don’t worry one bit,” she quickly adds, shaking her head.

I let out a sigh of relief. I’m still not thrilled, but at least I don’t have to worry about that.

“It’s just that pregnancy with Kaleidian children is different from your typical pregnancy,” Dr. Cadence explains calmly. “Gestation is shorter, though the exact length of time varies. Some Kaleidian pregnancies can be less than five months.”

I grimace. Nine months sounds long, but at least it would have given me time to prepare. Five months could be over in the blink of an eye.

“You’ll want to spend a lot of time outdoors, too. Kaleidians need far more sunlight than humans do, and that’s especially true in the womb,” she continues. “But on the bright side, labor tends to be quicker and less painful than that of a fully human child.”

At least the baby isn’t going to rip me open when it’s born. I’ll have an excuse to go sunbathing a little more often, too.

Dr. Cadence places a handful of pamphlets in my hands, ranging from topics such as Kaleidian Pregnancy: What to Expect and Dietary Advice for a Healthy Pregnancy.

“Keep plenty of achbra tea in your pantry. My son is ten now, but it was a life-saver whenever I felt nauseous. Kaleidian babies are especially notorious for causing some upset stomachs.”

At this point, my morning sickness is the last of my worries. The clammy nausea induced by anxiety has taken its place. But I nod anyway, tucking the pamphlets into my handbag.

“Thank you. I appreciate all your help. I… I think I should go now,” I say. My eyes sting with hot tears. “This is… a lot to take in, I guess.”

She nods in understanding, holding the door open for me as I stand and sling my bag over my shoulder. “I understand. Give me a call if you have any more questions.”

Once I’m in my hover car, I throw my bag on the passenger seat and let out a frustrated groan. I knew I’d regret sleeping with him, but I didn’t think I’d regret it this much. I thought I’d feel gross for a while, shudder at the memory—not have a lifelong commitment as a result.

I brush tears from my eyes with my sleeve and take a long, deep breath. My inevitable breakdown can wait until I’m home. I start up my car and make my way down the road.

Once I’m home, I grab some chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream from the freezer and flop down on the couch with a sigh. My nausea has subsided a bit, at least enough to stomach some food, and I need something to wash away the despair in the pit of my stomach.

Tears rush down my cheeks as I pull a blanket over my shoulders. The thought of being a single mom terrifies me. But the idea of telling Ozadus about this somehow frightens me even more.

Is Ozadus really the man I want to raise my first child? I mean, he was a nice guy on the surface. Sure, he’s great in bed, and he’s so hot it makes me shiver. But men like him are good for one-night stands, not fatherhood. He’s still a criminal. Father or not, it would be negligent to let him around my child, wouldn’t it?

Knowing him, he’s probably off in bed with some other pretty girl right now, anyway. The man probably has dozens of half-Kaleidian offspring all across the galaxy. Why would mine be special?

Besides, even if I wanted him to be around for the kid, I’m not sure how I would get in touch with him. Unless…

I look at my comm pad and open up the holo-net. It only takes a few minutes of searching various spellings of his name before I find his profile online. The picture is a good one. He’s smiling, big, sharp teeth shining like stars, his hair impeccably shiny. There’s a green circle by his profile picture, indicating that he’s online.

My heart flutters. I can still remember his scent, the touch of his warm turquoise body against my own freckled skin. No amount of torture could get me to admit it aloud, but I miss him.

If I messaged him right now, would he respond? Or would he slam the block button at the mere mention of a child? Or worse, would he get angry, blame me somehow, and make this all my fault?

It probably doesn’t help that I essentially ghosted him, too. Just another reason he’ll probably want jackshit to do with this kid growing inside me.

I lock my phone and toss it aside. It’s not worth the pain. From here on out, it’s just gonna be me and this kid.

I shove a spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into my mouth. I hope the kid has a sweet tooth.