It was Christmas Eve—usually predictable, warm, familiar. Stevie always spent it the same way: dinner with her brother Chris, Lori, and Jessica, then Christmas Day alone. It had been her rhythm for years.
But this year, everything felt off.
Around 3 p.m., instead of pulling into their driveway, Stevie sat on the edge of her bed, pale, shaky, her stomach twisting hard enough to make her wince. She stared at her phone for a long moment before finally calling Lori.
Lori picked up quickly. "Hey, we were just about to start—"
"Hey... I'm not coming," Stevie cut in, her voice strained, thinner than usual. "I—I can't make dinner this year."
There was a pause. "What? Why?" Lori asked, immediate concern replacing her warmth.
"I don't feel right," Stevie admitted, pressing a hand to her stomach as another wave rolled through her. "I think I need a doctor, but I can't go out—not like this. If anyone sees me, it'll turn into something it's not."
Lori didn't hesitate. "Okay. Then we don't go out—we bring the doctor to you."
Stevie exhaled shakily.
"I haven't started dinner," Lori continued, already shifting into that calm, steady, problem-solving tone. "Jess isn't here this year anyway—she's with her boyfriend's family. So listen—we'll take you to your place in Phoenix. Quiet, private. I've got someone—my friend's sister, she's a doctor. She does house calls."
In the background, Chris's voice cut in sharply, "Wait—what?!"
Lori covered the phone slightly. "Hold on—" then back, "Ignore him. We'll pack, come get you, and handle it. You won't have to worry about anything. Alright?"
Stevie swallowed. "...Okay. Thank you."
"Good. Sit tight. We're on our way."
—
By the time they arrived, Stevie looked worse.
Lori took one look at her and immediately stepped in close, her tone soft but firm. "Hey... easy. I've got you."
Stevie tried to smile, but it faltered as her stomach lurched again.
"Alright, that's it," Lori murmured, slipping an arm around her back. "No pushing yourself. Come on."
They got her into the car, Stevie leaning into Lori in the backseat, eyes half-closed, breathing shallow through the nausea.
"It's okay," Lori kept saying quietly, brushing her hair back. "We'll get you settled soon. Just hold on."
The drive felt long.
Too long.
Every bump made Stevie wince, her stomach churning harder, her body starting to weaken from it all. By the time they reached Phoenix, she could barely stand.
Lori didn't ask—she just helped her out, steady, careful. "I've got you. Slow steps. You're alright."
Inside, she got Stevie straight to the bedroom, easing her down onto the bed like she might break.
"I'm calling the doctor now," Lori said, already pulling out her phone.
—
The doctor arrived quickly.
After examining Stevie, checking her vitals, asking questions, she gave a small, knowing nod.
"Food poisoning," she said. "Not severe, but it's progressed enough that she's dehydrated."
