Jordan McKnight flushes the toilet in one of the two bathrooms inside of the ranch-style house she has lived in all of her life. She then examines herself in the mirror. Her skin looks a tad pale and clammy feeling. Her lips feel dry, and her throat is raw, all ramifications of morning sickness, which her OB, Dr. Jamison informed her that should subside in her second trimester. Even she has noticed she has begun putting on some weight in her mid-section too. 

 

Feeling quite gross, she decides to forgo attending her classes at Sampson today to have a self-care day for herself. Meaning she will stay in her pink floral long sleeve pajama shirt and shorts and watch beauty videos on YouTube and catch up on sleep. 

 

She jumps back from the mirror when she hears someone knocking on the door. 

 

"Jor, are you still in there?" the familiar voice belonging to her father. 

 

"Yeah, dad," she answers back. 

 

"Are you all right?" he shouts through the door. 

​

Jordan turns the knob to show her father she is okay physically. 

 

Police Chief Ernest McKnight is in his uniform wearing his signature black leather jacket. Meaning he is heading into work, which he tends to spend more of his waking hours than here at home, to begin with, 

 

She trails into the fairly spacious kitchen, where she opens the fridge to grab a can of ginger ale to settle her stomach. 

 

"You've been sick for a while now; you sure you're all right?" her father says 

 

"Cramps, that's all," she lies. 

 

Her father displays unease when it comes to talking about personal women's health issues. 

 

Jordan hadn't told anyone in her family that she is having a baby. Unsure of how each of them will react. But knows she has to, which she isn't ready to, 

 

The resonance of her mother opening the door to her and her father's bedroom door. 

 

"Morning, you two," Thora McKnight greets her.

 

Both Jordan and Ernest casually greet her back. 

 

Thora often stays in her bedroom ever since the death of Jordan's oldest brother EJ who has shot in the line of duty over four years ago. She is still a beautiful woman in her early fifties with blonde hair currently in a bun, wearing a peach fleece quarter-zip sweatshirt with matching pants. 

 

"Ernest, have you seen EJ's letterman jacket?" she inquires curiously. "I went into his room earlier, and I didn't see it in his closet." 

 

Jordan can sense her father rolling his eyes at that comment directed towards him as she sips some of the soda out of the can. 

 

Ernest scratches his head. "I haven't been in his room lately," he responds. 

 

EJ's bedroom has been left mostly untouched since his death. 

 

"I'll check in the storage room," Thora says 

 

A warm sensation hits Jordan's stomach, which makes her hurriedly take off back into the throw up to vomit. 

 

Outside, both Thora and Ernest exchange expressions of worry on their faces for their youngest child. 

​

Ernest's iPhone rings to the tune of "Born In The U.S.A." "Chief McKnight," He hears his deputy telling him that requires his presence. "I'll be there in ten." He then ends the call. 

 

Thirty years of marriage have prepared Thora for better or for worse when duty calls. "What's up?" 

 

"Uh, that was Livingston; there is a bad accident out on I-75. I need to get out there. I see you later. And make sure she is okay," 

 

Chief McKnight takes off without kissing his wife goodbye, something she has been used to for years now. She turns to the door, where she sees her daughter coming out of the bathroom more exhausted than she went in. 

 

"Jordan, sweetheart, what's wrong?" 

 

"Nothing," she says informally. 

 

Thora folds both of her arms onto her chest. "I know what is going on." 

 

Jordan prepares herself having to tell her mother the truth about her pregnancy.