"I need to visit the ladies' room," announces Celene when she stands and abruptly begins walking away.
"Something is up," mouths Adeena when she is out of earshot.
"Always," replies Taliah with more sass than necessary.
Celene weaves her way through the dining area silently praying, No small talk, please.
She powers forward with a wave of nausea ebbing up from the lowest tier of her belly.
She refuses eye contact with all other patrons and continues to silently pray, Please do not be occupied..., do not be occupied, please.
Celene extends her arms like a zombie and forcefully flings open a stark red door causing it to slam into the adjourning wall.
A petite grey-haired lady exiting the center stall shrieks, "Eek," before throwing her hands into the air, defenselessly.
"Sorry," pleads Celene when she barrels past and into the stall furthest from the door.
She slams and locks the door, spins to the left, takes two folding steps forward, points her face downward, and dry heaves phlegm into the toilet bowl.
"Ugg," she moans aloud in response to a lone bead of sweat clinging patiently to the cleft of her lip.
Celene places both hands on the sides of the stall and locks her knees, forcing her bones to reinforce her jello-like legs. She closes her eyes to steady herself, raises her left foot, and presses the flusher.
She backs away, turns around, releases the lock, then slowly opens the door.
She trudges four steps to the sink, pumps a wall dispenser three times, releasing a fluffy orange glob. She lathers vigorously, waves one hand in front of the tap until water begins to automatically flow, then rinses both hands longer than necessary.
The flush in a previously ignored stall prompts Celene to snatch two oversized paper hand towels from a decorative basket resting on the vanity. She quickly dries her hands, then ducks out before the unknown occupant makes an official appearance.
"I hope you are okay?" prods Lauren when Celene slowly makes her way back to the table.
"I am fine," lies Celene before choking down a second wave of nausea.
"You sure? Because you look pale," replies Lauren in response to Celene's face bleaching an opaque tone akin to dirt-tinged milk.
"I think she is going to," yells Lauren when Celene crumbles backwards and tumbles to the floor like a giant Lego®.
Taliah jumps to a stance and rushes past Lauren, parting a growing group of gawkers.
She squats beside her younger sister lying on the high-gloss wooden floor, breathing imperceptibly. She gingerly raises Celene's left hand, then drops it to her face creating a flat, resounding thwack.
Lauren winces in disbelief, slowly cranes her neck in Adeena's direction, then opens, and closes her mouth sharply.
"She is out cold," advises Taliah, followed quickly by, "Let her lay there."
Adeena sits and sips mimosa luxuriously.
Lauren wills her feet to move but remains affixed like a statue on display in a museum gallery.
Several sips later, Celene awakes with a startle and birds eye view of Taliah's sneakers.
"Spill the beans," demands Taliah as Celene's eyelids flutter the scene into focus.
"I think I fainted," replies Celene with color slowly returning to her cheeks.
"You are pregnant, and you need to eat," remarks Adeena.
"Stop staring at me," complains Celene after soaking a wedge of toast in egg yolk, then stuffing it into her mouth.
"All good here?" asks Lauren as she twirls between adjacent tables sweeping up tips.
"You gave us quite the scare," she continues amidst stacking and removing dirty plates from their table.
"She is fine," smiles Adeena when Lauren hustles away.
"How long were you planning on keeping this secret?" demands Taliah.
"It is not a secret," fires Celene followed quickly by, "Ikiah knows."
"Does Roger?" asks Adeena with a level gaze.
"Not yet," replies Celene between gulps of orange juice.
"Harrumph," tuts Taliah loudly.
"I plan to tell him tonight," she adds righting Taliah's pompous disapproval.
"Are you happy?" pumps Adeena enthusiastically.
"Very," gushes Celene without divulging her intention to single-parent her first and likely only child.
YOU ARE READING
Lilies Bloom, Lies Fester
ChickLitAll families are dysfunctional. In consequence, the distance between truth and fiction is marked and marred by habits of discretion, and birth order. But what happens when secrets coveted and shared by and between family, the persons worthy of trus...
