what now? | outerbanks

• seventy-five •

Sarah

I wake up abruptly because I have to pee. Again.
I'm confused at first, looking around at the bland, unfamiliar room, but then I remember last night—the girls' night turned impromptu sleepover. I remember falling asleep on the sofa with John B., so he must have carried me in here at some point. For once, I'm actually cold, and my pajamas aren't clinging to me with sweat. JJ could lower his AC below freezing, and he still wouldn't be cold enough.
I groan quietly before pushing myself up and onto the edge of the bed. I sit there for a moment, catching my breath from what was once a simple movement but is now a full event. I stand up slowly and find my way to a bathroom. I try to look away from the mirror as much as possible, not really wanting to see how exhausted and tattered I look, but I do catch a little glimpse of my belly. It's full and round and somehow bigger than it was yesterday. Every time I'm sure it can't get any bigger, it grows.
I do my business and straighten myself up a little before slowly shuffling my way into the front of the house. The house is quiet. It's dim and easy and woody. What I find is enough to stop me right in the doorway.
The others—John B., Kie, JJ, Pope, and Cleo—are out. They're tangled in a sleepy sprawl that makes something ache so deep inside of me it almost hurts. Pope is lying flat on the new carpet, a blanket thrown haphazardly over top of him. Cleo is lying on the small loveseat, half of her body practically dangling off, and one of her hands seems to have found Pope's arm in her sleep. Kie and JJ are wrapped up together on the neon couch, both of their wedding rings catching light from the kitchen windows. They're wrapped so tightly that I can't quite make out where one ends and where the other begins.
Then there's John B. He's slouched in the armchair, somewhere between a state of awareness and pure bliss. The way he's sitting makes him look like he's still in protective-mode, ready for anything, but the look on his face is soft. He looks young, naive. He looks like the boy I fell in love with some years ago.
I force myself to stand there a few minutes more, hands on my belly, taking in the beauty of it all. There are few times when everyone is so peaceful, so oblivious to the world. Hardly ever is no one fighting over something stupid or mumbling or complaining. So, for now, I make myself bask in the peace.
Tears start to prick my eyes. I've been so worn down lately that even the smallest things seem to strike me in an odd place. I wish I could stay in this moment forever.
I make myself a glass of water in the kitchen and sit in a barstool at the counter, looking out into the living room. I wonder how long they'll be asleep for; I'm starting to get hungry.
    The thought barely passes my mind before Cleo stirs, stretching her limbs and blinking blearily at me. She grins. "You're up early."
    "Had to pee," I whisper back with a half-smile.
She nods understandingly and then wipes some more sleep out of her eyes. I can't help but stare a little as she wakes up more. She always looks so regal, so defined and strong, even now after just waking up. I bring up my feet and cross my legs underneath me in the stool, and Cleo tries her best to get up without waking anyone else.
"Need anything, Goldilocks?" She asks sweetly. I wonder how she always comes up with such quick, clever nicknames. "Little Poguelet asking for anything specific this morning?"
I shake my head. "I'm good for now. I don't think the newlyweds have anything edible in this house anyway," I laugh.
"Surviving on dreams and joints," she jokes back quietly.
Slowly, the others start to stir, groaning about the sunlight and smacking one another when they move too sharply. Pope is awake next, immediately looking for Cleo, then Kie and JJ, who are in their own little newlywed bubble, humming and giggling and kissing; and then there's John B. He's groggy at first, rubbing his hands down his face and yawning impressively wide yawns, but then his eyes fall on me. He sits up a little in his chair and just stares at me, his eyes full of fiery love.
"Hi," he mouths over the sleepy movements of the room, his face lit with a smile.
"Hi," I whisper back.
He stands up and shuffles over to me, his feet never fully lifting from the floor. He helps me stand up, which is proving more and more of a hassle every day, and wraps me in a soft, loving hug. His hands instinctively cradle my belly, and baby girl makes a point to kick extra hard into his hands, like she can sense that he's here.
He kisses me all over—my hairline, my lips, my cheeks, below my ear—and I giggle and blush knowing everyone else is there as well. When the baby kicks, he breathes, "She's a strong one."
"That's all me, babe," I tease.
"Don't doubt it for a second." He kisses me again, but this time it's slower and longer, not quick like the others.
In the living room, Cleo and Pope are sharing a quiet conversation, and Kie is forcefully dragging JJ off of the couch, still wrapped in that sleepy, giggly feeling of just waking up with your spouse.
JJ fights back pretty hard, but once he's on his feet, he moves straight for the kitchen. He opens cabinets and drawers, groaning loudly after slamming the refrigerator shut. "Why isn't there any food in here?" he whines.
"Because," Kie states, "we moved in less than a week ago, and when I offered to get groceries, you said we 'had time.'"
JJ is still rummaging around the kitchen when Kie has to physically hold him back, "JJ Maybank, you will stop before you break something."
He glares at her. "I'm starving, Kie. This is how I go." Wow. Not dramatic at all.
"You better stop complaining, boy," Cleo scolds. "My girl is carrying a whole human inside of her, and I haven't heard one whine out of her mouth." She turns to me sweetly. "Are you hungry, Sarah?"
My stomach grumbles quietly. "A little," I lie. John B. sees right through me, lifting one brow suspiciously. "Okay, a lot."
John B. leans in, eyes flashing with concern. "You feeling okay?"
"I'm alright," I assure him, but my stomach twists a little, and not in the fun, fluttery way. More in a 'you better eat something soon, or else' kind of way. "Just really hungry. And if I don't eat soon, I think I might pass out. Or throw up. Or maybe both."
"Alright," Cleo calls, clapping her hands decisively. "We gotta feed Mama Bear before she starts hurling all over Kie's new counter."
"Hey! It's my new counter too," JJ interjects.
"Please tell me, JJ, how often you're really going to use—"
"I'll have you know, I consider myself a master chef."
Pope clears his voice over the argument, taking control. "None of this matters. Everyone ready to head out?"
"I vote Waffle House," JJ says instantly, raising his hand like he's back in school, even though he hardly ever went.
"No!" Kie cuts in, scrunching her nose. "We are not feeding Sarah Waffle House; it'll just make her feel worse."
"What about the farmer's market," Pope suggests, a little more reasonably. "It's still pretty early. They'll be open."
Kie smiles gratefully, though she's doing it more to antagonize JJ. "See, babe! That's the kind of suggestion we need."
I groan dramatically, sinking into the bar stool and leaning my forehead against the cool granite. "Can't we just stay here and get something delivered?"
John B. brushes his hands up and down my arms. "Fresh air will be good for you, baby."
"But I'm a mess!"
Kie grabs my hand and practically pulls me to the bathroom. "Five minutes!" she shouts through the house. "Be ready to leave!"
She works methodically, scooping my waves into a ponytail and massaging some mysterious serums into my cheeks. Somehow she manages to make my striped pajama pants and cropped white tee look like a planned outfit and not just last night's sleep clothes.
"There," she beams up at me. "All done." I look in the mirror and smile. I smile because I really do look beautiful, whether it's me or just Kie's skills.
We make our way back to the front of the house where the others are waiting for us, and I scramble to look for my purse.
"JB, honey, have you seen my purse? I swear I—"
He's steps ahead of me, already holding out the bag for me to grab. "Right here." I smile widely and kiss him before rummaging quickly through it to make sure I have everything I need.
"Before we head out, everybody's got everything they need—wallets, sunglasses, sunscreen? I have extras."
They blink at me strangely yet gratefully, then Kie answers, "You're a saint," and takes a stick of sunscreen.
We eventually manage to herd ourselves to the car after a while of fighting over who'll drive. Somehow we land on JJ, which is definitely not what I voted for, but I decide to pick my battles wisely. John B. helps me into my seat, and I kiss his shoulder as he buckles me in.
I've gotten to the stage where now, no matter who is driving, my hand instantly finds the overhead handle. I grip it tightly the whole way to the market, half because of how pregnant I am and half because I genuinely am nervous I might fly out of the van with the way JJ stops so harshly.
"JJ, could you please be a little more careful," Cleo calls from the backseat, eyeing me.
I wave her off, hating the feeling of being burdensome. "Oh, no—I'm fine."
They all look at me now, each one of them apparently over my bullshit. "Sarah, your knuckles are white."
I roll my eyes, but I know it's true. And to my surprise, JJ actually does slow down. John B.'s hand is resting firmly on my knee, brushing his fingers every so often against my skin. It takes everything in me not to fall back asleep right here in the Twinkie.