The ride there was a little thorny. My stomach hadn’t improved and my head began to throb. Azmir kept a watchful eye over me during the trip to the airport and while on the aircraft. I tried drinking more ginger ale, but at some point I couldn’t ingest anything. I just wanted to sleep, which was finally possible when we were seated on the plane.
I was so grateful for first class that morning; I needed the space and the comfort of the larger seats. Azmir kept his hand on my thigh the entire flight that, fortunately, wasn’t long at all. He was concerned, but decided not to go the prodding route with repetitive questions about my sudden ill state. The sickness progressed. My stomach groused and my head started to spin.
As Azmir was gathering our carry-on luggage from the overhead compartment, I felt the bile threatening to rise from my belly. I tugged at the hem of his sweat jacket, trying to inform him of my need to make a dash to the bathroom. Suddenly, unable to wait, I sprinted past the captain and the flight attendants who were alarmed by my urgent fleeing.
Once out of the gate and into the airport, I searched frantically for the nearest restroom. Luckily, it was just ahead of me. I burst through the stall door and barely made the toilet, vomiting my guts out. Within seconds I felt a strong hand on my lower back.
“Brimm, baby, are you okay?” I recognized Azmir’s firm voice laced with hidden fret.
“Is she okay?” was another voice that wasn’t familiar.
I couldn’t speak, neither could I believe Azmir followed me into the ladies’ room. Another round of vomit came up. My abdominal muscles ached and I used the stall walls to balance myself. Azmir rubbed my lower back and I didn’t know if it was soothing or annoying from moment to moment.
“Was it something she ate?” a male yelled from outside the bathroom. I’d guessed he wasn’t as bold as Azmir to enter the ladies’ room.
The female voice just beyond Azmir spoke again, “I hate to be so personal, but is she pregnant, sir? It would help to know how we can best help her.”
PREGNANT?
God, no!
That shocked me into some level of stability and I thought to stand so that I could clean my face and get out of there.
“I just ate something that didn’t agree with me I’m sure,” I was able to weasel out, on my way to the sink. I washed my hands and rinsed my mouth.
Someone ordered a wheelchair, which was the best idea because it felt as though my ribs were cracked. I was handed another ginger ale that I could only bring myself to hold in my hand while being wheeled out to the car that Ray had waiting. Azmir helped me inside and it took me a while to find a comfortable position in the back of the Bentley. I decided on one that allowed me to lay my head back.
It had become clear that I had been holding my stomach because Azmir reached over and pushed his big hand underneath my arms, resting it over my abdomen, “Is it your stomach? What do you feel?”
With one eye, I found his concerned face and breathed, “My head and stomach. I don’t know what it was specifically that I ate—the eggs or fruit.”
His eyebrows were knitted and delicious mouth set in a grim line. He didn’t say anything. We just rode home in silence. When we were on the ride up in the elevator at the marina, the bubbling in my stomach was joined by abdominal spasms that told me I needed the bathroom and right away.
We were barely through the inside the apartment when I sprinted to the closest bathroom to the front door. I slammed the powder room door behind me, hoping Azmir would get the do not enter hint.
He yelled through the door, “Can I get you anything? Do you want me to call your doctor?” It was more a shriek and I could tell he was concerned. My body worked hard to expel whatever foreign object that had invaded it, scarcely leaving energy for me to speak.
“No!”
I screamed not to be rude, but forcing the word out that otherwise wouldn’t have budged. Immediately, I regretted opening my mouth because I felt it coming up. I quickly jumped on the toilet looking for a receptacle when I found a trash can with a fresh bag—not that it mattered. I hurled inside of it.
Oh, my god! It’s coming out from both ends!