One minute she and Greg were by the river, walking, laughing and talking, taking in the beautiful, graceful swans sailing along the surface as if blown by a gentle wind. In the next, emotional heat swelled in her chest as he made the mistake of asking her the wrong question.

“How do you think it happened?” Greg had asked as he gripped her hand and squeezed.

Suddenly she felt sick again even though she’d felt miraculously better today after weeks of morning sickness. The nausea was more precise than an alarm clock. The mornings she’d be awoken by a tight clench in her tummy, and she’d be forced to bolt to the bathroom. The instant she vomited, the queasiness disappeared. This respite lasted thirty minutes to several hours before the sick waves returned. By eleven am, the feeling was gone and other than tiredness, bordering on fall-down exhaustion, she was herself again.

When she awoke nausea-free today, she’d suggested they take advantage of the beautiful Saturday weather and walk to the nearby river. Every moment of wellness and energy had become precious. Pregnancy flicked an internal switch for Nem. She was more than herself, and sometimes, with the illness less. Her sense of smell had morphed into a super-power, and she could almost taste peaches being cut three rooms away through a closed door. But the important thing was that she had maintained control of her emotions.

When Greg asked the question, at first she wondered what he meant. He had a habit of sprouting random ideas which popped into his head, then he’d jump from one topic to another. Nem tried to keep up but found his train of thought at times difficult to follow. In the end she would give up with a nod and a smile, mindful she couldn’t afford to let anything rile her.

“How do I think what happened?” she replied, suspecting she already knew his answer.

“The pregnancy.”

Nem brought their entwined hands up and tapped them against Greg’s chest as if to chastise him.

“I’m pretty sure you know how that works. When a girl and boy get together…”

“Not the physical part, Miss Silly Jar Jar Binks.”

She shook her head at the Star Wars reference to the long eared, dopy character from the first film Phantom Menace. Even as the title came to mind, she felt a prideful thrill she remembered the film’s name.

She replied with a mock frown. “Hey, that’s not a nice reference. Are you saying I’m stupid and clumsy? You’re the one asking the silly question. Which I still don’t understand, by the way.”

“I. Aaam. Saay-yiing…” Greg stretched the syllables as if her first language wasn’t English. “… howw. Diiid. Yoou… get preg-a-nant with all the girl-health problems?”

Then more directly he added, “You told me having kids was impossible.”

The question was now not the only problem. His condescending tone annoyed her. She instigated her usual and reliable calming techniques; she imagined herself dipping the hand, currently holding Greg’s, into cold water. The ice crystals traveled through her fingertips into her veins, traveling where anger seeded in her heart. If she could halt the emotion there and not allow it to expand, she had a chance of remaining calm.