"Nick! I need some ginger ale!"
Becky's voice floated through the open bathroom door. I was laying on the bed, a bowl of popcorn balanced on my chest, my eyes glued to the TV. The Bucs were playing the Steelers and it was the closest game I had ever seen. The clock was ticking down; it was the last two minutes. The Bucs had a chance to tie it for overtime with just a field goal.
"NICK!"
"Just a minute hun!" I called out. I grabbed a large handful of popcorn and tossed it up in the air. Several pieces landed by my head, but the majority landed in my mouth. I chewed vigorously.
For the last week, Becky had spent more time hugging the toilet than anything else. I had assumed that morning sickness occured in the morning. For Beckers, it was ALL. DAY. LONG. It was really putting a damper on my booty time.
"N---" Before Becky could finish, the gross sounds of wretching filled the air. I slapped at my side. My eyes glued on the projectory of the ball, I raised the volume on the TV.
"AND IT'S....GOOD!" the announcer cried. I tossed the mostly empty bowl of popcorn on the bedside table and jumped up, my fist flying towards the air. "YES!!! FUCKIN' YES! WE HAVE OVERTIIIIMMEEEEEE!!!"
"Nickolas Gene Carter!"
I tensed and slowly turned towards the door. Becky was holding her stomach, her face clammy and her eyes watery.
"Yes, dear?" I said sweetly.
"Football's more important than me?" she said.
My mouth fell open. "Wh--n-no, but overtime and--"
"I can't believe you! My back hurts, my boobs are about ready to explode--"
My eyes fell to her chest. I knew she was continuing to talk, but all I could do was stare. Nurse Busty was becoming Nurse Bursty. And I loved it.
"NICK!"
I glanced back at the TV. The Steelers and Bucs were getting into position. Becky marched forward and stood in front of the TV.
"You're a jerk," she said. I hadn't noticed the tears that had begun to pour down her face. "You have no idea how hard this is."
"Honey," I conjoled, swaying slightly to try to see the TV. "Having a baby is supposed to be the greatest time of a woman's life. You should really try to enjoy it more. I mean, it wasn't like I didn't work hard to knock you up."
"Excuse me?"
I knew I had put my foot in my mouth, but luckily the ringing of my cell saved me. I held up a finger as Becky fumed, and connected.
"Nick. Hollah."
"Nick?"
Bri sounded panicked. I heard the roar of the crowd on the TV and moved Becky out of the way. I stifled a groan. The Steelers had scored. End of game.
"Nick, I need you to come pick me up."
"Where are you?"
There was a pause. "The hospital."
"What? What happened?"
He hesitated. "I was having some chest pains and drove myself here."
"You drove---are you an idiot?"
"Coming from you?" he teased.
"Nick?" Becky said. "I need--" She turned and ran for the bathroom. I heard her begin to upchuck again. I needed to get away.
"I'll be right there. Where's Leigh?"
"Her and Baylee are back at home. I'm out here finishing up my solo album."
"Alright, well hold tight. Which hospital are you at? Becky's?"
"No, the other one. Closer to your place."
I grabbed my keys, ignoring the TV broadcasting the score in large 32" letters.
"I'll be right there."
Ever since Nick's close call, I've hated hospitals. They remind me of almost losing my best friend. Throw on top of it the freakish incident that Howie and AJ had at a hospital, and lo - you've got one paranoid BRokster.
Every time a nurse came in I checked her over for warts, remembering Nick's description of Nurse Hatchet as he'd called her.
After what seemed like a decade, the tall blonde himself came whipping around the curtain like he was Indiana Jones. He was wearing a pair of dirty sweats and an awkward-hanging Buccaneers t-shirt that had a mustard stain going straight down the center of his chest. I blinked at him. "Becky lets you go out like this?" I asked, for lack of better greeting.
Nick squinted at me. "Becky doesn't exactly know that I left..."
"What???"
"Well she was upchucking and I felt bad interrupting her--"
"You left while she was puking?"
Nick shrugged, "Well you needed a ride..."
"You didn't even tell her?"
"I figured she'd figure it out..."
"Nick!" I wailed, "Ohmigosh! Why weren't you helping her?" I demanded.
Nick shrugged again, "I dunno... she's a nurse, she knows how to handle barf..."
I smacked my palm to my forehead. "Oh my Lord."
He looked a little sheepish.
"She's gonna be so pissed when she finds out..."
"Well I think she did," he said.
"Why do you--"
I didn't get to finish my sentence because his cellphone started blaring 'Faithfully' by Journey and he reached frantically for his buttpocket, struggling to yank out the phone. He quickly muted it and a chime told me he'd sent the call to voicemail. He looked up at me, again, sheepish, and muttered, "Cos I've ignored about 75 calls from the house."
"She's going to kill you," I said. "You don't just leave pregnant women at home alone when they're barfing..." I started to scold him, but he held up his hands, palm out.
"Dude, I am so tired," he declared. "You know the last time I watched a football game in peace? Or did anything without her upchucking for that matter?" He leaned closer to me. "Bri, she barfed during sex."
"Gross," I muttered.
"Yeah, it sucked cos she was totally riding me like a horse and --"
"Nick I don't need details..."
"It was just everywhere... All the hell over me..."
"Seriously Nick, the fact that it was during sex was TMI, I don't need the rest."
Nick shook his head, "I may never recover from the trauma."
I rolled my eyes. "Well get me out of here so you can get back to Becky before she slaughters you dead and you end up kicked to the curb. Which I don't blame her if she does, by the way. Do you know what Leighanne would've done if I'd ever left her while she was pregnant?" I demanded.
Nick snorted, "Dude, Leighanne's got your balls in chains, man," he said, "You follow her around with your penis on a leash..."
"My-- my p-- my p-- my member is not on a leash," I said, unable to say the P word.
"Uh huh," Nick laughed, "It totally is."
"Is not," I argued back.
Nick smirked. "Well, whatever man... I'm gonna go get those papers to get you outta here..." An with that, he frolicked from the room, pretending to drag a leash, and whistling for an imaginary dog to follow along behind him, grinning wickedly.
I shook my head. Nick might be married, but the fact is he wasn't ever gonna understand women... unless some kind of miracle occurred.
