Anna awoke Saturday to the dull, metallic-tasting certainty that she was going to be sick. She scrambled to her feet and reached the washtub just in time. The sound of her retching broke the silence in the tiny apartment. It was no wonder her stomach was upset, after her quarrel with Mama. She wiped her face, then jumped at the touch on her shoulder.
    “You are sick again,” Rivka said, yawning.
    “I am not sick.”
    “Yes, you are, I heard you.”
    “I had an upset stomach. It is nothing.”
    “You have had many upset stomachs lately.”
    Anna frowned. Had she?
    “And I know why.” Rivka moved closer and shook her head. “You work too hard. You will never get better working so much. You should stay home today and rest.”
    Anna shook her head, which set off more queasiness. “And then what—return to the factory tomorrow to find they have given my finishing job to another girl? What would we do for money then? Thank you, Riv, but I am well enough.”
    A sudden wave of nausea struck, and she vomited again.
    “Yes, you look very well to me,” Rivka said, holding Anna’s bobbed hair back.
    “I will be fine.” Anna rinsed her mouth and spat. She reminded her youngest sister it was her turn to make breakfast and then slipped outside to the only place where she could have a moment to think in peace—the landing in the stairwell.
    She lowered herself onto the top step. When she was sick several times a few weeks ago, she suspected she had eaten something spoiled. Then last week was likely from nerves, as Friday mornings were always tense at the factory with the extra pressure of getting all the finished garments bundled for delivery.
    And who would not have indigestion after that conversation with Mama last night?
   Or, perhaps feeling ill was due to recent changes to her menses. Girls at the factory said the harsh working conditions and the stress on their bodies had altered their cycles. Anna heard that missing one was common, so she had put the missed cycle out of her mind.
    Had she missed only one? No. It had actually been more than one.
    Her breath caught. Sick several times in the past two months—several mornings. Sickness in the mornings sounded like—
    No. Missed menses and morning sickness could be explained away.
    Or they could mean—
    No. Impossible!
    But it was possible…
    She clamped her mouth with hands that shook.
    No, no, no, it could NOT be possible…
    Or it could mean that the worst mistake of her life was no longer just a humiliating memory she could quietly bury and try to forget.