Best Friends

I rolled over, grimacing as another wave of nausea washed over me. I clamped my lips shut as my mouth filled with saliva and my stomach roiled. My forehead broke out in a sweat and the room felt hot. I hated this so much. I listened to the steady beep of the monitors beside the bed and the quiet sound of the rain on the window. Once I was sure I wasn’t actually going to throw up again, I opened my eyes. I blinked to clear my vision when I saw my best friend sitting in the chair where I was sure I’d see no one.

“Julia?” I croaked, my throat raw. “What are you doing here?”

She looked up from the magazine in her lap. “I’m keeping you company, dummy,” she said casually.

I started to push myself into a sitting position then decided that was a bad idea and stopped. “But…why?”

She snorted. “Uh, because you’re sick? You think my best friend is going to get herself admitted to the hospital for a few days with the world’s worst case of morning sickness and I’m just going to stay home? Please.”

I smiled faintly and reached out to touch her arm. “I mean, you hate vomit, so maybe.”

“I did consider it,” she admitted, flipping a page in her magazine. “I really do hate vomit. I won’t lie. If you throw up, I’m probably going to throw up too. It’ll be a puke party in here.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. “Can we please stop talking about vomit? It actually doesn’t make me feel better to talk about it.”

“Yeah, it’s making me feel sick, too.” She looked over at me. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. “You look amazing, as always.”

She grinned. “Don’t I?” She patted her head. Her hair was hidden under a beautiful silk scarf, and her skin looked fantastic, as always. “I’ve been working in the garden more lately.”

I stared at her, baffled. “Why?”

“Because I have one now.”

I blinked. “I mean, sure, but you were never a garden person. Or a plant person. Or an outdoor person, really. Were you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t really have much opportunity. But since I started practicing law, I spend so much time in offices with fluorescent lights and I felt like my soul was being sucked out of my body. I was craving natural light and green. So, I started keeping plants.”

I tentatively shifted my weight off my hip, adjusting the pillow between my knees. That wasn’t so bad. My stomach gave a slight lurch, but settled back into place. “I remember. We sent you lots, if you recall. Plants inside weren’t doing it for you?”

“They do. I like them. It turns out, I have a green them.” She grinned and held up her thumb and wiggled it at me. I grinned back.

“So, now the garden? Do you plant flowers or vegetables?”

“Well, I started with flowers,” she admitted. “But then I figured, let’s try for food. Why not. We got into herbs, mostly. What we could grow in pots in the apartment. But then we bought the house, so we turned the back garden into an actual, usable garden. Spent that whole weekend building raised beds so I don’t have to bend over so much.”

“That was smart.” I poked her shoulder. “Lars was probably the one with that idea, right?” I teased.

She gave me a gimlet eye before answering. “You know, I do have a law degree.”

“So it was.”

“Shut up.”

“How is all that going?”

She scratched her head, the scarf shifting slightly. She pulled it back into place, checking her edges with her fingertips to make sure they were covered before continuing. “Well, it wasn’t great at first, but we figured it out. The first year was a little bit of a bust. Not much worth keeping. All tiny stuff and we lost a lot to bugs. But this year.” She sucked in a breath. “I may have overplanted.”

I laughed. “Did you send a bunch with Chris?”

She grinned at me. “I hope your girls eat veggies.”

“Not a bit,” I announced. “But I’ll figure something out. Or he will. We can chop them up and cook them or freeze them.”

“You won’t be doing anything for a while, from what he said.” She eyed me. “He said the last two times, you were in here for about three or four days, then wiped out at home another couple of weeks. Why didn’t you call those times?”

I sighed. “It feels ridiculous. It’s just nausea and vomiting.”

“Uh, severe nausea and vomiting that has dehydrated you to the point of hospitalization,” she clarified.

I waved my hand weakly. “Eh.”

“I’m here so he can be home with the girls. Lars is going to take a shift, too, just so you know. He’s learned some magic tricks, so…be prepared for that.” She made a face.

I snorted. “Oh lord.”

“Yeah. They are not good.”

“How’s he doing, besides helping you grow all the vegetables in the country? Does he like having a house instead of being cramped in an apartment?”

“He loves having a house. We should have bought one years ago. We just wanted to save up more first. I don’t know why we waited so long.” She stared laughing. “Oh man. The funniest thing. So, you saw the pictures I sent you of the front? And all the trees lining the property?”

I nodded. “I promise, eventually we’ll come see it. It’s just hard with our schedules.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m not trying to make you feel bad about not coming. It’s just important you know about the trees.”

“Ok. Yes. The trees lining the property.”

“So, there are several trees along where we park. We like to park by them because they offer shade. They’re massive and really old. Well, the first year we lived there, in the summer, we’d come home, and there would be these random two or three pears on our driveway. Just…sitting there. And we could not for the life of us figure out who was putting pears in our driveway. It was driving us nuts. Lars finally went over to the neighbors to ask them if it was them.”

I laughed, seeing immediately where this was going. “You have pear trees?”

“We have pear trees!” she exclaimed. “But they don’t produce many pears. Just a few. They’re pathetic. Well, I suppose they produce more than a few, but they don’t drop. I don’t know. It’s weird. So, we have pear trees that drop their pears on our cars.”

I laughed at the image her and Lars staring at the pears in their driveway in bafflement, thinking someone was leaving them rogue pears as a bizarre welcome gift.

“So, what do you do with them? Just eat them?”

“No, we save them up until we have enough, then make cake and jams and jellies. I sent a jar with Chris. You’ll love it. It’s amazing.”

“I can’t wait until I can eat again, to eat all your goodies,” I smiled. “I’m going to just make you be my source for fresh produce from now on.”

“I probably could be,” she sighed, leaning her head back against the back of the chair. “I seriously underestimated how much these things would produce. It’s insane. And they just keep going.”

“Surely not now that it’s fall,” I pointed out.

“No, now they’re done. But next summer.” She stopped. “Well, maybe not as much next summer. We’ll have to see.” She glanced over at me slyly. “I may have a little helper of my own next summer.”

I gasped. “Are you pregnant?”

“I am.” Her hand went to her own stomach.

“Julia,” I exclaimed. “Are you serious? You finally get your baby? I’m so excited for you! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s so early. I’m due at the same time as you. I’m just not as big of a drama queen about things as you are.” She winked at me.

I stuck my tongue out at her. “I have a medical condition, you know.” I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so so thrilled for you two. How is Lars about it? Thrilled?”

“Oh, you have no idea. He’s already started painting the baby’s room. It’s going to be purple.”

I gave her a look. “Eggplant?”

“Of course.”

I snorted. “Why not. Did you tell Chris? He needs someone else to knit for. We are practically smothering under all the things he’s knitted for us. Let him smother you.”

“I didn’t. I wanted you to be the first person outside of us to know. Well, and our families.”

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. “Really?”

“Oh, come on, don’t get all weepy on me,” she muttered, wiping at her own eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is a big deal. Julia. You’re having a baby. And I’m having a baby. They’re going to be best friends I just know it.”

“What if they hate each other?”

“We will throw pears at them until they love each other.”

She quirked an eyebrow at me. “What the hell is in that IV?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s just saline.”

“You know it’s fine if our kids are just regular friends, right?”

I sighed and wiped at my eyes with the edge of the sheet. “Yeah,” I said glumly. “I just hope they all love each other the way we love each other.”

“I don’t love anyone the way I love you. Not even Lars,” she said firmly.

“Really?” I looked up at her, weepy again. “Cause I feel the same way about you. Not even Chris, and we’ve been through some serious shit together.”

“Yeah, but not like you and me.” Her lower lip was trembling now. She looked up at the ceiling. “God, is this what pregnancy hormones are like? This is awful.”

I nodded and pulled the sheet over, offering her a corner. “And it only gets worse,” I managed, a lump in my throat.

“Sweet mother,” she sobbed, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of the sheet.

The door to the room opened then and Lars came in, holding a large brown paper bag and a tray of coffee cups. He froze when he saw us, his eyes wide and terrified.

“What happened? Was there an accident? Did something happen to the baby?” he asked. He scanned both of us.

“We’re having babies, and they’re gonna be best friends,” I managed.

“Or they might not be, but that’s ok,” Julia sobbed out.

“And you have a pear tree,” I added. “But you didn’t know it was a pear tree. You thought some random person was bringing you pears.”

And then we were giggling. And the giggles turned into laughs. Lars stood there, unsure of what to do. Finally, he held up the bag and tray.

“I brought food.”

Julia looked at me uncertainly. “Do you mind?”

I wiped at my face with a dry edge of the sheet. “You should eat somewhere else. I never know what smells are going to set me off,” I admitted. “I absolutely don’t mind you doing that, though. I need to go to the bathroom and want to call Chris to check in. Do you want to tell him about your pregnancy, or can I?”

“You can,” she said, pushing herself up out of the chair. “Let him know I’m still staying to keep you company, though, and he can’t change my mind about it. And that he can absolutely smother us in knitted stuff. And no fiber allergies that we know of.”

I grinned. “I love how well you know him.”

She winked at me as she left the room, her arm around Lars’ waist. I couldn’t wait to meet their baby.