This Body by Laurel Doud Page B

pregnant. This is not morning sickness
. During the entire first trimester of her two pregnancies, it had been a continual chore to balance the food going into her
body and the food being unceremoniously purged from it. She remembered intimately the symptoms of morning sickness, and this
wasn't it.
Or at least I don't think so
.
    She didn't know anything for sure anymore. When she thought she had gotten a handle on things, it seemed only to mean she
was kidding herself. The play was going on around her regardless of whether she knew her lines or not, and the outcome, though
obscure, was already scripted.
    Play out the play.
    Puck came in and offered a general good morning. He looked tense. He sat down across from Katharine and awkwardly caught her
eye. She smiled and tried to make it appear natural. That seemed to surprise him, but he relaxed noticeably.
    Her smile had been sincere. She had gone to sleep the night before liking him.
He isn't such a bad guy.
    “So when are you two heading back?” Robert Bennet asked them.

    Soon they were all outside, jumbled under the honeysuckle canopy. The sweet smell of the flowers pressed down upon Katharine.
She hugged Thisby's father with much more ease than yesterday.
That was a short infatuation, I dare say
. She felt close to him, though.
A good old family friend.
    “Come back soon, Honeybee,” he said as he released her. “I've missed you.”
    “I will. I promise.” And it felt like truth. “Thanks, Anne.” Katharine turned to Thisby's mother.
    “God's mercy, maiden,” Robert scolded from behind her, “Does it curd thy blood to say that she is thy mother?”
    Katharine felt herself redden, and she fishmouthed. “I —”
    “Oh, don't worry about it.” Anne waved it aside. “I don't care what you call me. Just call me.” She hugged Katharine and,
as she was releasing her, added softly, “Think about the treatment center, won't you? Or, at least, seeing Dr. Mantle again.
I'm worried about you.”
    Katharine looked around for an escape. “Where's Quince?”
    She was nowhere to be seen, so Katharine excused herself quickly and went back into the kitchen. Quince was sitting on a high
stool, her elbows on the counter, her head cradled in cupped palms. She looked up but said nothing.
    “I wanted to say good-bye,” Katharine said, lamely.
    “Good-bye.”
    “So what's on tap?”
    “What's on tap?” The left side of her upper lip rose in an exaggerated sneer. “Well, like the pelican, I'm all tapped out.”
    “Don't you have a job for the summer?”
    “What would I want with a stupid job? Baby-sitting a bunch of spoiled brats? Being a lifeguard aide? I can't be a lifeguard
cuz I'm not sixteen. Mowing lawns? Nobody wants someone who looks like me hanging around outside their house. Maybe if I was
a Jap or a Spic or something, they wouldn't mind.”
    “Come on, Quince,” Katharine said gently, as she realized that Quince was trying to impress her — impress Thisby — with her
talk.
    “What? Okay, okay. Asian or Latina. Shit, you sound like Mom.”
    Katharine stretched her mouth in an unspoken response.
    “Maybe…,” Quince said slowly, not quite looking at Katharine, “Maybe I could find a job in Westwood, and then maybe I could
stay with you.”
    Katharine stood very still, not even moving her eyes.
How am I going to get myself out of this one?
    Bluff.
    “Okay. Will you let me look around first?”
    Quince's face lightened, but not too much.
    “Does it have to be for money?” Katharine suddenly thought to ask.
What are you doing? I said, Bluff — don't get serious on me.
    “A job without money? What kind of job is that?”
    “Do you need money?”
Like I need money?
    Quince started to respond, but then shifted. “I guess not. Dad gives me a pretty good allowance. It's not as much as my friends
get, though.”
    Katharine smiled. She had heard this complaint before from both her kids.
    “But I don't want some stupid job taking care of kids or putting