Almond Joy (An Amy Blankenhooper & Bob Duncan Fanfiction)

Reality

Bob sat on Amy's bed, quite unsure what to do with himself. She stood after dresser, her back to him.

Bob let out a long sigh, "Well, that could've gone worse, right?"

Amy spun around, exploding into her reply. "Worse? Bob, they don't believe in us! My dad thinks you're throwing your life away, and my mom doubts I can go to school still."

Bob's eyebrows rose, not expecting such a reaction out of her. He spoke calmly, "Amy, we expected them to react this way. It's a big change."

Amy let out a huff and crossed her arms. "I know, but I thought they'd at least support us. They act like we're ruining everything!"

"Amy, it's not about them. It's about us and our choices. We can't control how they react."

Amy's frustration escalated into a full-blown fit. She began pacing the room, her anger palpable. Bob, taken aback by the sudden outburst, tried to keep the situation from escalating further.

"Amy, calm down. We knew this wouldn't be easy."

She brought her hands to her face again, "I'm just so angry." She balled her hands into fists against her face. "And so sad." Her voice cracked before she began to cry again.

Bob stared at her, unsure of what to make of how she was acting. "It's all going to be okay.

She pulled her hands from her face, "People keep saying that! Why am I the only one that doesn't think it?!" Tears flowed from her already red eyes in rivers down her cheeks.

Bob watched as Amy's mood swung from anger to tears, Bob realized the emotional rollercoaster they were about to embark on. He approached her cautiously, unsure of what her next emotion was going to be. When close enough, she leaned into him, letting him hold her.

It was awhile before Amy's parents called for them to come back down. Amy could hardly look at her father, his eyes beat-red from obvious crying. She had never seen him in such a state before.

Hank cleared his throat, sitting across from Amy and Bob. "We've had some time to think, and we realize this is a decision you've made. While we may not fully agree, we want to support you."

Petunia nodded, taking Hank's hand. "Amy, we've decided to provide you with some financial support, but with conditions. We'll help with a small amount, but you need to maintain your GPA. Education is still a priority."

Amy blew out a breath of relief. "Thank you, Mom, Dad. I promise I'll keep up with my studies."

"Good." Petunia continued, "Now, I've booked you an appointment with Dr. Peters on Monday at one P.M."

"Monday? But Bob and I have classes."

"Amy, you need to decide how serious you want to take this. Your health and the health of the baby are essential. Skipping an appointment is not an option."

Bob turned to Amy, "We can leave after the appointment. You will be back in plenty of time for your Tuesday morning classes."

"And yours." Amy nodded.

Bob glanced down at his hands before looking up at her parents. "Well," He looked at Amy again. "I think I'll go work for my dad after I drop you off at school."

A cold blanket wrapped around Amy. A realization for her. This was becoming too real too fast. It was like she was reading the test for the first time all over again. That life had been put on pause the last two weeks and she just pressed play.

Hank shifted, "When do we get to meet your parents, Bob?"

Bob resisted rubbing the back of his neck. "We're going to tell them next week. So, hopefully soon after that?"

Petunia nodded, "They can stay with us for a night. That's completely fine."

Bob shook his head quickly, "No, that's okay. I don't think they'll want that. They'll just drive back home after." That's if they agree to come at all. Bob thought.

Petunia's eyebrows raised, "Oh! Do you live close then?"

Bob opened his mouth, but words hesitated to come out. "Uh, like four hours."

Petunia blinked. "Well, I suppose it's up to them then." She nodded towards Hank.

"I'm going for a walk." He announced standing up.
Petunia looked at him quizzically, " Walk? Where? The only path paved is the driveway."

He stood, "Then I'll walk the driveway." And walked off towards the entryway.

"Wait, Hank—" Petunia in tow.

Amy and Bob shared a glance.

She let out a sigh, "That conversation was more promising."

Bob nodded, watching out the window where Hank stomped through the snow. "Yeah, your parents seem more understanding now. But, Amy, why did you get so upset earlier?"

She played with one of the rings on her fingers, "I don't know, Bob. It's just frustrating that they can't fully support our decisions."

"They're worried about us, about you and the baby." He placed a hand on hers. "We'll figure this out together."

The dim glow of the living room was subdued, casting shadows on the faces of those gathered around the table. The aroma of freshly delivered pizza filled the air, but the unease in the room stifled any appetite. Bob sat quietly, absorbing the weight of the conversation, his eyes occasionally meeting Amy's in shared uncertainty.

Petunia picked at the pizza on her plate, "Amy, dear, we just want to make sure you're making the best choices for yourself and the baby."

Amy nodded, her food cold and untouched, "I understand."

The hours wore on, discussions delving into plans, fears, and expectations. The table was cluttered with pizza boxes, remnants of a meal barely touched. The room felt heavy, tension hanging in the air as the clock ticked away the minutes.

Eventually, Hank and Petunia, sensing the fatigue in the room, declared a temporary ceasefire.

"Let's continue this tomorrow. It's late, and we all need some rest." Her father said, collecting his plate and Petunia's.

With the suggestion, everyone dispersed to their respective rooms. Amy and Bob retreated to their separate spaces for the night.

In the quiet darkness of his the guest room, Bob grappled with the flood of emotions that had been building throughout the evening. The muffled sounds of the house settling into night served as a backdrop to his internal turmoil. Alone with his thoughts, Bob's eyes, wet with unshed tears, glistened in the low light.

The gravity of impending parenthood weighed heavily on his shoulders. In the solitude of the room, the vulnerability he felt found release in silent tears. Bob yearned for the support that seemed elusive in that moment, wishing for the comforting embrace of parents who could provide reassurance in times of distress. The night became a canvas for his quiet breakdown, a space where emotions flowed freely until he fell asleep.