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“Katarina? You look pale,” Mila observes, and reaches for me, rubbing my back.
I shake my head and cover my mouth.
“Are you going to be sick now?” she asks, a panicked look on her face. “Do you need to . . .? Oh, God.”
I barely have a moment to get to my feet and run to the bathroom. I empty my stomach, a wave of nausea rising as I grab the rim of the toilet bowl.
“Oh no,” I groan, feeling light-headed as a thumping sound comes from somewhere.
“Katarina? Kata! Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
“Shh,” I tell her, closing my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asks in a quieter voice. “Did someone poison you?”
“I don’t feel too good,” I rasp, and force myself into a sitting position. “I think I might puke again.”
Mila barely manages to pull my hair behind me as I throw up. All this fuss is making my head hurt. I’m such an unpleasant person when I’m feeling sick.
Mila passes me a handful of tissues to wipe my mouth and nose. “You don’t look too hot.”
“It came on all of a sudden,” I manage to say, before another wave of nausea overcomes me.
“Kata,” Mila says, her voice changing. “Please tell me you and the Prince of Darkness have been using protection.”
Her comment jolts me in a way I never expected. Of course, we have not! Neither one of us even mentioned it. The first and the second time, I was too horny, it didn’t even cross my mind. And later . . .
What was I even thinking?
I cover my mouth with my hand. This can’t happen. Not now. Not with him.
“Katarina? Katarina,” Mila cries out, stroking my back. “Everything will be okay, honey. I need you to think for a moment. When was your last period?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, trying to think back.
When I realize that I can’t remember when it was, I burst into tears.
“Mila, what if I’m pregnant?” I sob. “I can’t have a baby now. This isn’t what I wanted.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Mila suggests. “We’ll take a test, and whatever happens, I’ll stay with you. We’ll figure it out.”
It takes almost an hour for me to calm down, the ramifications of a pregnancy hitting me full force.
Mila gets rid of the food Olga prepared for us. She asks her for a cup of tea and tells me to lie down while she runs to the store. When Olga comes with the tea, she offers me a warm, motherly smile that I find particularly comforting.
“Are you feeling any better, dear?” she asks me. Mila and I agreed not to tell her about what was going on. “It’s a nasty stomach bug you’ve got there. Your face is drained of all color.”
“I’m sure tea will help,” I tell her. “Thank you, Olga.”
I pretend to sip the tea, but I don’t really drink it. I’m afraid I might actually spill it all over the bed. My hands are shaking that bad.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” she says, and leaves.
Ten agonizingly long minutes later, Mila comes in with a white shopping bag in her hand.
“You didn’t tell Ivan where you went, did you?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I’m not an amateur, Kata. Ivan was too busy flirting with me to ask about where I was going. I bought several packs just in case.”
