HER.
I threw the envelope and the tickets in the trash.
And Vincent nearly tossed himself in the trash right after them to retrieve them. He was not very happy with me and my irrational behaviors. I just wanted to see how I felt after tossing them away. Carson always talked to me about how he feels for me and how it's crazy because it's the first time he's really ever opened up to anyone about his emotions and everything, and I never seem to reciprocate as I should.
So I tossed it in the trash to try and be the bitch he always called me. Tried to fake it and pretend like I didn't care if he finally gave me his phone number. I didn't care if he was upset over us breaking up, remorseful over the way he broke the news that he was moving to me. I mustered up my bad bitch energy for about forty seconds and then I demanded Vincent to give me my tickets back as he was shoving them in his pockets.
We went home shortly after, and I put his letter on my freezer door, holding it against the metal with a little baseball magnet I got a while ago. And I read, and reread, and reread it over again because looking at his handwriting gave me a sense of nostalgia from when we had class together, and the words I'm so utterly in love with you, it makes me sick were a permanent thought running across my mind. And even now as I talk with my first ever interviewee, I catch myself zoning in and out.
I'm so utterly in love with you...
"My last job I got paid by the hour, contingent on how well I did the work..." makes me sick. "I did a lot of lawn and driveway work, so I know a fair amount about pavementing. Landscaping is something that I put a lot of pride into..." please, please text me.
I absentmindedly jot down random notes in my little, pink spiral notebook with intricately drawn flowers and plants on the front cover, each new page revealing a different flower stamp on the bottom right corner. Good landscapist. Road worker. Clear, confident tone. "What would your last employer tell me about you if I were to call them?"
"She'd say I'm really good with my hands," funny, I write down, a halfhearted giggle leaving me from the slightly inappropriate joke. He lightly chuckles under his breath, seemingly letting out a breath of relief because I didn't grill him for the innuendo. "No but she'd say I'm very punctual, easy-going, maybe a little too detail-oriented. I can take a two hour job and make it a five hour one easily." Perfectionist.
"Admirable, but you have to remember this is a business. Time is money, and if you have four assignments, you can't waste your day stuck on detailing one. I'm not saying you have to change your work ethic, but you should consider what's the task at hand, and do it quickly and efficiently." He nods his head, taking in what I advise him like a good worker would. You always manage to gravitate to me while you're sleeping. I curse under my breath, catching his attention.
"You okay?" He pushes softly, tilting his head to the side in an examining way, eyes flickering over me, forcing me to remember how Ryker would do the same damn thing.
"Yes, just a little cramp," I lie, rubbing my stomach. When it doubt, blame it on the baby.
"Right how long are you, if I can ask?"
"Around three months," I say quietly, my brain reflecting on Carson and I way more than it should at work. The man in front of me leans back in his chair, his chin tipping upward as he peeks over the desk that separates the two of us.
"With all respect, you don't look like you're three months. My wife, well my ex wife," not the ex reference stabbing me in my gut. Oh wow, maybe I shouldn't use that analogy. I wince at the dark joke. "when she was three months pregnant, you could see it, but not like that."
"What does that mean?"
"You're kind," his cheeks stain pink as he fumbles his words, "you're kind of big."
"Clearly you don't want this job," I tap my blue ink pen against my notebook, watching as his eyes widen and he apologies profusely.
"I'm sorry, it's just something I noticed."
"I'm sorry, but not all pregnancies look the same, Mr. Dustin." I purse my lips, my finger flicking the clip of the pen from side to side as I think of any other questions I want to ask him. My eyes stay focused on the blue lines on my light pink paper as I try and get this baby talk and Carson's words out of my head.
"I think you and your uh..." I glance up at him as his eyes travel down to my hand that's resting on the cover of the notebook, keeping it in place because I write heavy. I look down at my left hand as well, "boyfriend should make an appointment to see. Have you had an ultrasound?" I shake my head and take a good inhale.
"Right, I have one more question for you if you're done asking me about my personal life," he chuckles and I bite back a little nervous laugh. "Do you have your own hardhat?"
He perks up, sitting up straighter in his chair, a slight smile trying to fight its way on his face. "Did I get the—"
"Actually," I blush. "No, I'm not allowed to make those kinds of decisions, but I'll put in a good word for you," I set my pen down after scribbling eager onto the page, and underlining it as I notice him nodding enthusiastically to my words. "Thanks for your interest."
"Thanks for your time," he says with a soft smile. "And go to the doctor, okay? Pretty sure it'll ease you and your guy's mind." Oh I wish it would.
"Thanks, we'll get back to you by tomorrow afternoon." I watch him walk out of my temporary office, and count to five. I wanted to make sure I couldn't hear his footsteps anymore as I pick up my phone, searching for my clinic's number. I press the number that's will transfer me to the Ob/Gyn and bite on the tips of my mint colored acrylics. The rings feel like they repeat themselves forever until I finally get pushed through. "Hi yes," I return the greeting before immediately getting down to business. "I would like to schedule an appointment because I'm pregnant and I haven't gotten an ultrasound or checkup yet."
"Okay," the lady over the phone asks me for my important information before asking, "And you took a pregnancy test that was positive how long ago?"
"Three months ago, but I guess I'm kind of big to be three—"
"You need to come in tomorrow morning," she cuts me off hastily, a concerned edge to her tone. "We'll do nine forty-five, is that okay?"
"Yes that's perfect, thank you."
I breathe out a huge sigh, leaning back in my wide-back chair, and look down at my stomach. "What are we gonna do with you?" I poke it lightly. I should call him...
His number has been etched into the depths of my mind, and I can recite it just as well as I can recite my mom's number. Guess that's what happens when you have feelings for someone, and you so happen to be carrying their baby. Practice safe sex guys. Don't get caught up in who you think is your forever man because damn, can they really get you into a pickle. Or in my case, a pregnancy.
"Not that I don't appreciate you being here, tough kid." I pat the bump lovingly, still in complete awe of how great they seem to be doing despite my horrible rollercoaster of emotions. We have our first baby appointment tomorrow. I should call him. I pick up my phone with a heavy heart, the vital organ trying it's hardest to regulate my beats, but with my anxiety shooting through the roof, it has no choice but to take the climb, making me breathless as I type the ten digits onto my screen.
What would I even say? "Hey, I haven't heard from you in like forever! I'm um, pregnant?"
Maybe not like that.
The door swings open, and I'm met with the sight of my boss's happy smile. I set my phone down on the desk, relived because of the distraction. She glances at my phone briefly before she makes eye contact with me again, leaning against the door frame for balance as she pokes her head in. "We're all going out for drinks, you wanna come."
"I can't drink..." I trail off, giving her wide, half-annoyed eyes. If the guy that came in for an interview could tell I was pregnant, why couldn't she piece it together and not ask me to go out?
She rolls her eyes, "Well duh," a soft chuckle leaves her petite body before she clears her throat. "Just inviting you to tag along, to be in company with us. I'll buy you some virgin drinks, it'll be fun."
It isn't like I don't know how to control myself when it comes to alcohol consumption. I know what my limits are. I know the quickest way for me to get drunk is to either drink two and a quarter glasses of wine straight, or around five shots of tequila. I'll definitely blackout if I have a nice amount of jagermeister. For some reason, the Long Islands sneak up on me and I find myself slurring a lot faster than I thought, but that's beside the point.
It's easy for me to say no. To say I've had enough. It's easier to watch my friends drink in front of me and be me enough to pout because they're drinking, but be smart enough not to sip. Especially because I have a growing human inside of me. I'd be a very crappy mom-to-be if I'm drowning my little baby in alcohol before it's had a chance to at least visualize what sober is and what drunk is. Not to mention fetal alcohol syndrome.
I just don't think I can do it anymore. Going out means I have to be subjugated with everything that is associated with going out. The overly loud chords and beats of rap, country, pop, and rhythm-and-blues music forcing its way into your ears and the sometimes thumping bass threatening to break through your chest. The also, sort of loud, yelling from people that clashes against the music, competing to come out on top and be heard most clearly. If there's one thing I'm not in the mood for tonight, it's raising my voice.
When you've been at work for nine hours, you kind of just want to lay in bed for the rest of the day. God save the poor souls who have to work even longer than I have to. My feet hurt. My tongue is dry. My left eye is having a case of the twitchies because I woke up at five in the morning from having a bad dream about, well, I don't even remember, but I shook out of my sleep and rolled over in bed. And damnit the sunrise snuck a peek from my curtains and my brain said good morning, so I was staring at my ceiling until it was time for me to get dressed for work.
We're not even going to talk about how one of my brothers called me in the middle of the night about girl drama.
So yes, I'm tired. I don't want to socialize with my coworkers. I don't want to listen and hope that the DJ plays the songs I like. I don't want to have to worry about guys hitting on me, reminding me that I'm single with baggage. And can you imagine walking out of a club sober? I'm not going.
I look up at my boss's face, thin lips stained a pretty purple to match her heels stretch upward to form an inviting smile. My lips twitch. "I'll be there."
|||
The sound of a phone camera clicking makes me snap my head up away from the mirror to glare at Bambi. She shrugs, snapping another picture of me before unzipping the split of her purse, shoving her phone in there while she says, "Somebody has to get pictures of you while you're pregnant. What do they say now? Pics or it didn't happen?"
"Pretty sure the baby will be proof on its own."
She makes eye contact with me, only to stick her tongue out. "Don't be a downer. And stop looking at yourself in the mirror," she closes the large gap between us, and places her hands on my shoulders. "You look as gorgeous as a pregnant woman can be." Her brown-glossed lips connect to my cheek stickily, and I cringe inwardly, but smile into her affection.
"Where would I be without you, Bam?"
"I dunno, why don't you ask Vincent? You know, the one you actually left the house for," she rolls her eyes and paddles off somewhere else. I blow out a frustrated breath, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. I watch her peel back couch cushions before pushing her hand between a cushion and pull out a set of keys. "You ready?"
"Yeah," I mumble. I don't think I have a choice at this point.
We walk out, arm in arm, and I pluck the keys out of her hand, turning around to lock the door. She pushes her shades onto her face, and looks through her purse for a stick of gum, a few milliseconds later she was balling up the silvery-covering while chewing the contents. She keeps her hand on my back as we walk down the stairs of the apartment, as if I needed the help to get down them, and we're revealed to the muggy heat of the day.
"Do you want me to drive?"
"Pregnant. I'm pregnant, not handicapped," I hold my hand up, unlocking the car with a push of a button, and hopping in swiftly. Bambi follows suit, and we were pulling off. Well, I floored it in reverse.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
Bambi and I both turn around, scowls on our faces when we search for the a-hole that decided to blow all of the air out of their horn. "Oh fuck off!" Bambi turns back forward and gives a stiff middle finger to the elderly woman with her thin eyebrows raised in her soccer-mom car while I smash the horn, watching as she jumps in her seat with dark excitement. We speed past her and giggle at our childish antics, cussing when we lift up in our seats because I didn't see the speed bump in the middle of the road. "Jesus Thickness, the bumps!" She holds her hands out in front of her to keep from hitting the dashboard.
It's not like we moved very much in my little beetle, she was being dramatic.
"Are we picking up Noah?" She asks me, absentmindedly rapping her fingers against the window.
"Why would we?"
"Because he's my boyfriend," she clicks her tongue, then bites it to keep from smirking.
"Was that your way of telling me he finally chose you?" I glance at her smiling face with a bored look, noticing her teeth showcasing themselves in her pretty grin. She nods her head thrice quickly, practically vibrating in the passenger seat.
"Yes. We are a thing. He's groveled respectfully and we had the best sex ever. Not really sure if it's because he's naturally in tune with bedly things or if it was from him learning stuff with other guys."
"Oh God, Bam, I didn't need to hear it," I roll my eyes when she sticks her tongue out of me, crinkling her nose at the same time.
"It was great." She blows a bubble, popping it shortly after with her teeth.
"I'm glad." Now I won't have to hear her whining to me about how he dismissed her or left her to hang out with his 'friends' or use her when he was at a low point. I love Noah, but I hated him while he was dragging my friend through his own issues. No one's feelings deserve to be toyed with. I pause from the words in my head, hitting me like a ton of bricks and caused my lips to part in a revelation.
"You good, babe?" Bambi tries to pull me from my thoughts with a touch of her hand on my arm.
Please, please text me.
"I just had this overwhelming urge to call him."
"Mm," she says, pursing her lips. I'm going to my first baby appointment, and he has no clue. "Are you going to want to know the sex of the baby?" She switches subject, shocking me.
"Bambi," I feel an uneasiness in my stomach, as if I couldn't handle the possibility of finding out whether it's a boy or girl. I just feels like with each passing day I'm carrying a terrible secret. Like every day I'm lying more and more to Carson.
I'm pregnant.
Of course the baby is Carson Speros'
I am a sufferer of morning sickness.
I'm going to my first appointment.
I going to find out the sex of the baby.
And not tell him.
But I have to tell him. "I feel like I should call him."
She holds her hand out, wiggling her little fingers as excitement visibly washes over her. "Then give me your phone, I'll dial him for you."
"I left the letter at home," I shake my head, turning into the parking lot of the hospital. She sucks her teeth, and rolls her eyes as I smoothly swivel into a spot in the front for expectant mothers, something that I can definitely get used to.
"Like you didn't save his number in your phone." Okay so maybe I did.
"Well it's too late, we have an appointment," I gesture to the sliding doors in the front of the building, sitting beneath a screen showing the name of the hospital digitally. She sighs while swinging open the car door.
"Get out," she snaps playfully. "Let's go look at a blob of grey that you and that hottie made together."
The inside of the hospital was clean, and I started to worry about the medical bill in advance before remembering that I'm on my mom's insurance and she's...well hell, my mom doesn't even the full extent of my pregnancy. Far as she knows, I'm a surrogate for Bambi because Noah magically became sterile. I blow out a harsh breath.
Lies, lies, lies.
Funny enough the hospital actually was sterile, and that almost sickeningly clean smell hit me pretty hard and shoved me back a couple months when we went to the hospital after my first failed blowjob. A brief smile makes its way on my lips as I relive that horrid day. Oh, look at how far we've...come.
The Obstetrician private sector of the building was surprisingly almost empty. I'm not sure why I expected more people to be going through the same issues as I was, but then again, how many people are pregnant with a kid of a guy that they're not really sure they are in love with, and finally got their phone number through a letter, though can't really decide whether to call or continue to ignore said guy? The jumbled mouthful of my situation just gave me more anxiety than I needed as Bambi and I strolled over to a nurse behind a check-in desk.
I told her my name, and obviously she had me sit in waiting room until my doctor came to get me. "Raine! How are you? Come on back," she beams at me, and waves at Bambi before disappearing into a small, white hallway. We're lead into a room with about a million baby posters plastered everywhere, and a pretty stork painted along the wall across from the entrance, right behind Dr. Aus' computer desk and some other heavy equipment.
"Ah, so that's where babies come from," Bambi sighs aloud while planting her butt into a blue, uncomfortable chair.
My doctor chuckles before gesturing to the patient bed. I sit on it, ignoring the crunchiness of the sheet laid over it, and link my fingers together, resting my hands in my lap. Jamie Aus's blue eyes connect to my hazel ones, and crinkle at the ends when giving me a once over. "I think the last time I saw you was to confirm you didn't have cancerous cells in your cervix following the Pap smear."
I turn rigid in my seat, remembering that god-awful day. "No need to remind me." Bambi snorts.
"I want to ask what you're here for but I have a strong feeling already," her eyes travel to my stomach. "My my, what did you have for breakfast?"
"Nothing actually," Bambi answers in with a slightly agitated tone. "I tried to get her to eat but she was too busy throwing up the water she drank the night before."
"You're losing your appetite?" Jamie asks, her eyebrows drawing together in concern.
"I just don't want to think about breakfast foods some mornings...it makes me nauseous." Jamie turns around in her rolling chair, and logs into her computer, firing off basic health questions while her fingers smash on those poor letter keys.
No, I don't smoke.
Yes, I do drink.
My last drink was approximately ten weeks ago.
I'm not sexually active, but trust me, I have been.
No I haven't had any infections.
My last period was 13 weeks ago.
Yeah, I think I'm pregnant.
"Well let's ultrasound you, alright?" She types a few more things into the computer before crossing over the small room to the sink to wash her hands. "I know I'm supposed to check your vitals and everything, but you seem healthy, and obviously you aren't here for a personal check up. I'm just gonna hop to it, unless you have any concerns?"
"Not about me, just about what's in my womb." She giggles while aggressively scrubbing her hands. The splashes on the water cut off abruptly, and we hear the automatic paper towel machine do it's thing before she swings open some cabinets and hooks up the monitor. In a few seconds, it seemed, she was slapping that cool jelly over my exposed tummy. Bambi and I exchanged psyched out glances as the room got super silent.
We all looked back and forth at the monitor and her wrist twisting and rolling to search my insides, a plain, focused look set on her face for a few minutes. And then, she smiled. "Alright so we see a cute little head right here..." she points to the screen where I see a big blob of nothing. Bambi squeals, I'm assuming the picture is making more sense to her than it is to me. "And we see some...legs?" She gets quiet again, and I arch a brow a Bambi. She shrugs her shoulders, and mouths blobs to me.
She pushes on my stomach a little more than I would've liked as she quietly scopes out my organs some more. "Okay so either your baby is a mutant or there are two in there."
"Could you not say mutant?" I say flatly, only registering the first part before the second rang in my ear more prominently. "What the hell do you mean two? Two legs?"
She says nothing, just moves that wand over my stomach some more before she gasps out, "Babies."
"Twins?" Bambi nearly shouts just as I practically yell:
"I'm having twins?"
Jamie winces at our volume before moving the wand just a bit and nodding her head. "So there's baby number two," she points to another blob. "So we have four legs, four feet, four arms...oh so here's a cute little penis."
"A penis??" I gasp.
"Maybe it's just something in the way, I'm not exactly sure but it could be one. We'll definitely be able to tell in a few more weeks. How many weeks do you think you are?" She asks me, still working that jelly on my stomach.
With wide eyes I mumble, "Nine weeks."
"Right. So you're actually twelve weeks. I'm going to schedule you to come back in two weeks because that will be your second trimester start, and we can set you up with someone to get you those cool things like blood tests, in depth ultrasounds, and the ins and outs of your pregnancy. In the meantime," she reaches behind me, to where a bunch of file holders were stapled to the wall. "Here's a packet all about pregnancy. Your morning sickness should be finishing up by now, so read about how to calm that down. I would also recommend some healthy food choices, are you constipated?"
"Mrs. Aus..."
"If you are there's some things about that. Don't be ashamed, it's common."
"Jamie." She shrugs her shoulders at me while Bambi laughs.
"I don't want to stress you. Congratulations on your twin babies. We will see you back in two weeks. Until then. I actually have to go, I have an important meeting. It was lovely catching up with you." She washes and dries her hands before giving me a bunch of towels to wipe the gel off with. "I'll go get your nurse to discharge you."
And she was gone that quick.
"Fucking twins! How awesome is that?" Bambi claps her hands together in quick succession.
"You tell me, Bam."
Fucking twins.
___
Hi guyssss! I'm sorry about the timing. I feel like I reveal more about myself bit by bit, but I was figuring out college stuff and I just graduated so there was a lot going on at once.
Everything's mellowing out now, so I'm hopeful I'll have more time on my hands to finish their book.
Anyways, love you lots!