“You need to be more accommodating,” she said. “Gwen’s pregnant. She needs special care now.”
I turned back to the sink full of their dirty dishes.
Little did I know that “special care” would become my nightmare.
“Katie! Katie, wake up!”
I jolted awake at 5:10 a.m.
to Mom shaking my shoulder.
“What?” I mumbled, disoriented. “Is there a fire?”
“Gwen needs a McMuffin. McDonald’s opens at six.”
I blinked in confusion.
“So…?”
“What??”
“Look, I have my book club at eight. Tyler has an early meeting. You need to go.”
“But I have class at nine—”
“She’s pregnant with your niece or nephew!” Mom snapped.
“Get up. Now.”
That’s how I found myself shivering outside a McDonald’s before dawn, waiting for them to open their doors so I could buy a McMuffin for my sister-in-law’s craving.
When I finally got home, Gwen took one bite, frowned, and pushed it away.
