Page 128 of Red King
My stomach gives a little lurch, which I ignore.
Then I reach the fish section, and the smell hits me right in the back of my throat. It happens so quickly that all I can do is turn to the side so that the vomit doesn’t go into my cart.
Orange juice, together with the sandwich I had for lunch, spatter all over the tiled floor.
“Oh no,” I mutter as I search for a Kleenex in my purse. As soon as I find them, I dab a wad against my mouth. My stomach rolls with more nausea.
Shit!
One of the staff members sees the mess and gives me a dirty look.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I tell him. He looks to be around sixteen. I consider offering to clean the mess but my stomach clenches again. For a moment, I think I’m going to be sick a second time.
No. Crap!
I gag but somehow manage to swallow it down. I look at my cart and then at the exit. By now, my cheeks are burning with embarrassment.
I still feel sick, so I walk to the exit as quickly as I can, holding a hand to my stomach and the tissues to my mouth. Screw the groceries.
“Clean up in aisle six. I repeat, clean up in aisle six,” blares over the tinny sound system.
I cringe as I rush for my car.
Before I can get there, I retch again, this time into the bushes by the side of the parking lot. It’s not a pretty sight, but at this point, I don’t care. I get it all out.
I didn’t think I’d consumed this much. Where is it all coming from?
After I’m finished, I sit on the curb and try to catch my breath. I pull out a fresh Kleenex.
My stomach is still roiling, which is insane. My heart is pounding in my chest. I feel sweaty and hot. What the heck is happening to me?
The sound of someone coming toward me snaps me out of my daze, and I look up to see an elderly woman with a shopping cart. She stops in her tracks, looking concerned as she takes me in.
“Are you alright, dear?” she asks gently, her eyes soft with compassion. “Do I need to call management?” She looks over at the store.
I shake my head, trying to form words. “I’m fine,” I manage to sputter out. “I’m pretty sure I have that mean stomach bug that’s making the rounds.”
I spoke to one of my ex-colleagues and the ER has had several cases a day being admitted. Mostly kids but the odd adult, too.
“Oh, yes.” She nods. “My great-grandchildren are all home sick with it. Best you get home, dear.”
I nod and stand on wobbly legs. “I’m actually feeling slightly better.”
“That’s good. Get into bed and drink plenty of fluids.”
“I will. Thank you.” I get in the car and head home. Thankfully, it isn’t a long drive.
After rinsing my mouth and brushing my teeth, I jump into bed. The nausea is back, but it’s manageable this time.
I need rest.
It doesn’t take me long to fall asleep, and I must crash hard because Becs shakes me awake. Looks like I slept for three hours solid. I even have dried up, crusty drool on the side of my mouth, which I wipe away.Gross!
Fortune and Cookie are at the door; they give me a forlorn look.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter, sitting up. “I haven’t taken you guys out.”
“Forget the dogs. They’re fine. Is everything okay with you?” Becs looks concerned.
