That next morning…

I knew where I was as soon as I woke up even if I had only been there briefly before when Tom had left something he had to go back to get on the way to the studio one morning. I was in his apartment, and right now, I just felt very very sick. My clothes were on the floor beside the bed and the place where Tommy should have been lying next to me was empty. A flash of light caused me to look down at my finger curiously, and the next thing I knew I had thrown on one of Tommy's shirts and ran to the bathroom while heaving over and over again into his toilet. Oh my God! It had happened. The nausea didn't go away as I went back into the main room to look for Tom when I noticed a white slip of paper on his pillow. I picked it up and felt my body go cold as I perused his words.

'At the studio. We need to talk." I just stared at it before walking over to the window to look for Tom's viper. Yep, it was gone. Of course it was, it was at the club or maybe he had caught a cab to get it this morning. Oh hell, who cares? Picking up the receiver of Tommy's bedroom phone, I dialed a number before hanging it up slowly and running back into the bathroom.

Patsy walked in knowingly about a half hour later as I leaned over the edge of the toilet grabbing my stomach in misery. She just stood there staring as if I was some freak sideshow in a carnival, and I hurled once more before looking up at her crossly.

"What? Go on tell me I was an idiot, tell me how I can't hold my alcohol, and how absolutely stupid I was for marrying Tom Quincy last night." I said sardonically before another wave of nausea swept through my system. Patsy pushed away from the door and walked into the interior of the room. Obviously the sound of wretching didn't bother her. Holding out a cardboard box, she shrugged her shoulders meaningfully.

"I swiped this from a drug store for you." She said quietly as I looked at the box in astonishment. Uh uh, no way!

"I am not, I repeat, not pregnant, Patsy." I said with an indolent shake of my head. "I'm just not very good at holding down my liquor. You know that. Remember when I got drunk off only two beers and you and I tagged a building?" I said helplessly as a warning feeling crept with trepidation up the ridges of my spine. Patsy just looked at me silently for a moment before ripping open the box.

"Jude, you only had what? Three drinks last night at the most and you're throwing up like it was the end of the world. I don't care how drunk you are, nobody throws up like that unless they've gone way beyond their limit. Just give me a break and piss on the stick, will ya?" Patsy said grimly as I felt my entire body go cold. It couldn't be, could it? Shakily, I took it from her while holding it out gingerly between two fingers, trying not to drop it like a hot coal as Patsy turned and walked out of the room closing the door behind her to give me privacy. Reading the directions hurriedly, I carried out the procedure mechanically before laying the stick onto the counter to wait the designated two minutes for the results. Oh God! What was I going to do? Shaking my head firmly, I sat there for what felt like hours—too afraid to lean over and read the display window, but finally the curiosity got the better of me, and I picked up the stick to read the front.

"Oh shit!" I thought with a frown as I sat down heavily in the floor beside the tub. Oh shit!