what now? | outerbanks

• thirty-four •

Sarah

It's been three days since I found out I'm pregnant, and the news hasn't become any easier. I've thrown up at least once every day, and my appetite and liveliness are prehistorically extinct.
This morning is the first of mornings that I've woken up feeling okay, and for that I'm grateful, since it's Thanksgiving and there's plenty of work to get done. Amid my sickness and secret suffering, John B. and I, with the help of our friends, have been scrambling to get things moved into the new house in time for the holidays.

"Are you sure it's nice enough?" I had asked John B. while we were arranging furniture a few days ago, feeling down and self-conscious.
"Everyone is going to love it," he assured.

I flit around the house in a classy yet comfortable outfit, linen pants and a breezy sweater, preparing courses and sides for today's lunch. The dishes are already piling up in the sink, and I'm only creating more, having to step back every now and again when the remnants of food make me queasy.
"Hey, John B," I shout to wherever he is in the house, his footsteps becoming automatically audible, ready to help with whatever I need. "Can you start washing some dishes? I don't want them sitting there when everyone gets here."
"Yeah, for sure."
Each day, I get increasingly nervous to tell John B. about the baby. It's not that I think he'll be mad; he's nothing if not gracious, but each time I think it's the right moment to spill, my tongue gets caught. Things have, in turn, been a little tense between the two of us, but to everyone else, it seems that we're tense because of the sudden move and holiday prep. Only Kie and I know what's really going on.
I've been growing talent in the area of hiding my sickness and lethargy from John B, the boy heavily occupied with homeowners logistics. As far as he knows, I'm rising back to health from my supposed stomach bug.
"Sar, why don't you take a break? JJ just texted that they're down the street. They'll need a hand." He looks at me briefly over his shoulder, hands industriously cleaning the dirty dishes as he shoots me a cute smile. I smile back, exhaling lightly and wiping my hands on the towel that rests on my shoulder.
As I walk to the front door, I see shadows from the window and hear tires pull into the rocky driveway. I open the door wide so that it rests along the adjacent white wall, and I lean my body's weight on it as I watch my two best friends unpack their car and walk up the front walkway, their movements in perfect harmony.
"Hi guys!" I beam, truly happy to see the two.
"Princess," JJ greets, kissing my cheek before walking past me to find John B. in the kitchen.
"Sar-bear," Kie sings, pulling me into a tight hug. When she breaks out of it, her fingers linger on my stomach, and we look at each other knowingly, the secret floating around us in a heavy ambiance. "And my newest little friend," she whispers once she knows both boys are out of view.
Previously, the plan was that Kie and JJ were going to completely skip Thanksgiving here and spend the day with her parents, but Kie, being my only backbone in this right now, insisted that she come for part of the day. I reminded her over and over that Rafe and Sofia would be here, but she never backed down in supporting me.
"I'm glad you guys decided to come," I hear my husband say from the kitchen, Kie and I walking hand in hand to see our boys.
"Me too, JB," the blonde says.
"Yeah, I think we'll leave around 2:00; head over to my parents' place." I rest my head on Kie's shoulder as she talks, and the beeping of the oven rings through my ears. As soon as there is a lull in the conversation, JJ barks in.
    "Alright, Queen Kook, where do you need us?"
    I dictate orders and jobs, and, watching Kie play music over the speakers and the boys bicker while mixing ingredients, I can forget about everything else for at least a moment.

Sofia

"Hey, baby, can you grab that pan off of the counter," I call out to Rafe as I smooth my hair in the mirror and spread a final layer of lip gloss across my lips. We were supposed to leave five minutes ago, but I lost track of time and forgot to watch the clock.
    My eyes follow Wheezie as she trots down the grand staircase, and when she reaches the bottom, I turn back to the mirror and spritz fancy perfume on my neck and wrists. The bottle is glass and chic, the perfume being a birthday gift from Rafe. He told me it was the perfume his mother always wore, and that pinches my heart with every pump I use.
    "All ready, Wheeze?" I ask the
curly-haired girl as she slips her shoes on by the door.
    "Yup," she grins, and I know it's because she's excited to see her sister.
    "Are you excited to see the new house?" I ask, grabbing my purse and checking in the kitchen to make sure Rafe is doing what I asked of him. "Come on, Rafe. We have to go."
    "I'm comin', I'm comin'," he mumbles, walking towards us at the front door, hands full. Wheezie opens the door, and the three of us walk out to the car.
    "I can't wait. Sarah texted me that there's a room just for me whenever I want to come over!"
"Oooh, nice," I trill, buckling into my seat and making sure the young girl does too. "You got the new address, baby?"
"Sure do," he assures, putting a light hand on my thigh and leaning over briefly to kiss my cheek.
"Ugh, gross," Wheezie groans from the back, and it makes me giggle, pulling my knees to my chest and settling in for the ride.
We get to the new property in less than fifteen minutes, and I stare up at the house in awe when we arrive. It's quaint and tasteful, the perfectly coastal and feminine build standing on peaceful grounds.
When I knock on the painted door, no one opens, but I hear a muffled voice from
inside yell, "Come in!" I feel a little intrusive doing so, still feeling somewhat disconnected from the group, but I listen and let ourselves in.
"Wheeze!" Kiara, my boyfriend's ex, calls from across the house.
"Kie!" Wheezie yells back, accepting the girl's embrace with ease, the older one spinning her in a circle.
    I take the pan of food from Rafe's hands and walk confidently as possible into the bustling kitchen. "Where's a good spot for me to set this down?" I ask, trying to reach my voice over the chaos that consumed the room.
    "Aw, you didn't have to do that," Sarah gushes, taking the pan from me and setting it by the stove before walking back to hug me lovingly.
    "My mother taught me well," I tell her, pulling out a barstool and sitting in it, my elbows set childishly on the cold counters.
    "Hey, Rafe," she calls gingerly, but she smiles, and I can tell she means it. The two don't hug, just smile at each other, but it's enough progress to be significant.
"Food is pretty much done; just gotta get things set on the table, and then we'll be ready to eat. The Heyward family should be here soon. Feel free to roam the house, check it out, whatever." Sarah never looks up as she talks, but simply flutters around the kitchen, plates and glasses switching in and out of hands, her words clear and deliberate. I can't help but feel a maternal sense from her; her tranquil chaos one of a mother.
It isn't long before Pope and Cleo and his parents arrive, and then John B. gets us all set at the table, plates served and prayers said.
"The house is beautiful!" Mrs. Heyward gleams, starting the conversation with bright eyes and a wide smile. I don't know her well, but I've met her through my parents and remember her from elementary school events.
John B. places his hand on Sarah's, and she looks down at her lap, almost
sad-looking. John B. smiles at the woman, chuckling slightly. "It's been a crazy couple of days," he tells her. "Kind of just fell into our laps, huh, babe?"
Sarah looks up at the sound of the acknowledgment, plastering a smile onto her face as she hums and raises her eyebrows.
Each of us eats our meal, silly stories and grateful anecdotes passed over the table in turns, laughter filling the house.
I have a fantastic family. A strong father and loving mother, three little siblings who I'd do anything to protect. We're solid. But we're not playful or open. Things are strict and stern, my mother coming from a long line of Hispanic women, and my father's lineage made up of sour deadbeats.
Being here, giggling with my boyfriend and his sister's family, is better than I could have ever imagined. It's fresh and freeing to see everyone smiling together, abandoning all taut relationships, even if it's only for today.