CINDY
The truth is, I don't have to think about anything. I decided the second he asked me that I would be helping him out with this.
What I'm actually doing by not paying him attention yet, is trying to talk myself out of this. Because is this not the worst idea in the history of ideas? Why am I like this?
I just felt so bad hearing things from his perspective. He didn't even say anything crazy meaningful. I'm friggin' pathetic.
People will say terrible things. Call me a whore and Tommy will hate me, and I won't be able to even explain things to him. Or anyone for that matter, and I have a big mouth. If I tell one person, I'll feel obligated to tell the whole world.
It sounds like it'll be one big disaster, but I couldn't say no. So I told him I'd think about it. Which, by the way, is basically exactly the same as saying yes. And curse him for looking pretty while basically announcing that my life would soon become a shit show.
Mom lifts her gaze, questioning me with her eyes as she rocks Eryn and tries to eat grapes at the same time.
My mother—the multitasker—asks:
"Are you feeling okay? You seem distracted."
My brain starts rushing because I can't just tell her that nothing's wrong. Because that's an obvious indicator of something being wrong. Who would I be kidding? Not Mom.
The first thing that comes to mind is:
"He asked me out. The guy."
She audibly gasps. "The guy. Football hunky-pants guy?"
I never want to hear the words "hunky-pants" leave her mouth again, but I don't have time to cover how utterly disgusted I am by those words.
"Yes. Him. He was over at my house because he wanted to talk about everything that's been happening, and then we're talking and he just asks me out."
If I can't tell anyone the truth, I'll just keep going by this. God, I think I'm going to have to write all this down before I forget anything.
"Really? What did you say?"
"That I'd think about it! Are you kidding me, Mom? Do you have any idea how many people are watching my every move. I'm pregnant with one guys kid and then seen cozying up next to another. What would people think? I couldn't say no, but God forbid I said yes."
Mom rolls her eyes at me. "Oh, Cindy. Please tell me you don't care about that superficial bullshit. It's that you want to go out with him or you don't. Don't let strangers decide that for you."
"Mom, you don't get it. I don't want to be told to kill myself because I decide to date someone whose name isn't Tommy. It wouldn't be fair to Levin either. Imagine all the dick-crazy weirdos that'll—"
"That'll what?" Mom laughs humorlessly. "Say things to him he's heard millions of times? Forgive me for saying this, love, but you're not a special case. You're something that's going to get him into trouble with some fans, and he's had multiple other somethings, I'll bet."
Never did I imagine my mother would basically tell me I'm not special. And I never imagined I would find it reassuring either. What are the odds?
"I guess you have a point."
She hasn't said a thing I haven't said to myself, but it's different coming from her. From an outside perspective. Even if she doesn't know the whole truth.
"I guess? I'm right, and you know it. So, if you're ready for all that again... Go for it."
It sounds so easy, but AGH.
My face falls into my hands, muffling a loud groan. "Tommy's going to hate me!"
Mother Dearest laughs, leaning toward me to rub my arm.
I place my hand over hers, wondering how such a small touch can be so comforting. It just doesn't make sense. Except maybe it does because she's my mother.
"He's in love with you. He can never hate you."
As if hearing that makes things any better. I don't need to be reminded that he's in love with me right now. That'll just make things harder on me. But maybe she's just trying to help me understand that he'd want me to be happy... in this fake relationship I'm debating.
"You're not helping!"
"Baby, look at me."
I look at her.
"Tell me," she starts, pinning me with a look that gives me goosebumps, "yes or no?"
I sigh, sitting back.
It's a yes. It's been a yes this whole time, but I JUST DON'T KNOW! What if this all blows up in my face? I have read enough romance novels to know that these things always badly...
And I've read enough to have secretly always wanted to experience this fakeness that was earlier proposed to me. So... fuck it.
"Yes." I mumble.
Mom makes an excited noise, clapping loud enough to make Eryn start making weird gurgling sounds.
I grimace. "That can't be normal, Er."
"You'll be finding out for yourself soon enough." Mom smirks at me. I gag.
She must have a sad life to threaten me with future baby things I'm going to have to handle.
"Ew."
She laughs at me again, flipping Eryn around before holding her up and starting to burp her.
For a few moments, we don't say a word. Mostly because I don't want to distract her burping ritual. But she's had four other kids. This is surely a piece of cake for her by now.
"So, it's a yes?" I ask her, still a little unsure.
"It's not up to me!" She says with way too much attitude for my liking.
"Hey, watch your tone lady."
She raises a brow at me, resulting in me looking away from her and awkwardly clearing my throat.
"That's what I thought. And it's a yes if you think it is. It's a no if you think it is. Do your own thinking, I have a baby to take care of."
But what's the point in having a mother, then? Are they not here for limitless distribution of their wisdom?
❄︎❄︎❄︎
I still haven't said a word to Levin, and he hasn't said a word to me.
He hasn't tried texting me, and I'm glad. That definitely helps with the pressure... Not.
Shouldn't it? God, what is wrong with me!
And that isn't a question, it's a demand. Something needs to be fixed in my head, ASAP. I can't live like this. Thinking kills brain cells. Or at least it feels like it.
My nights have been limited to fixing and tweaking things for school, bad cartoons I find, and putting heart shaped stickers on any surface I can find.
Don't ask about that last one, I've just been randomly picking up that sticker sheet since high school. Still haven't wasted up all the stickers, though. Don't ask about how either. But I can't shut up right now, so maybe I'll say something about it anyway.
I've been talking to my stomach for the last twenty minutes, nonstop. Apparently, I'm chatty tonight.
Style by Taylor Swift has been on repeat for these last twenty minutes, but I've been too busy talking to my kid to bother getting up and turning off the music.
I'm transitioning into another rant when I run out of breath for the millionth time. This time, I don't start back up again, though.
I groan into nothingness. What am I even doing?
Work is done, I've eaten and showered. Everything is taken care of, I'm tired of TV. And all I'm doing is staring at Levin's contact, weighing my options with the thing occupying my uterus.
So, this needs to stop. I need to stop.
It takes me two long seconds to decide that I should read. I get up from the couch to head for my bookcart in the corner of the room.
Standing in front of it, I let my eyes wander and linger over countless books. Some of them I've read, others I haven't touched since I set them up on the cart.
My eye catches on a book on the lowest shelf. I bought it some time last year and never read it, but now seems like the time.
My tongue darts out to the side of my mouth when I lower myself to grab the book. I didn't think it would be this hard to get just a little low. I'm not that pregna—
A loud noise tears through my throat.
Too low, too low.
My blood runs cold at the sensation that basically burns through my very lower stomach.
Hot tears instantly start flooding my eyes and roll down my face like it's nothing. But it's something. This feels like something. Something bad.
I'm panting, trying to get up off of the floor, but fuck.
It hurts too bad.
Giving up on getting up, I reach to lower my shorts in the middle of my living room. I can't wait.
The sight of blood seeping through my underwear has me sobbing harder, distracting me from the pain and pinning my focus on the emotional pain that's searing through me like nothing I've ever experienced.
The hot-cold, terrifying sensation I'm feeling gives me enough will to get my ass off of the floor. I can't even pull up my shorts.
I'm basically crawling to the couch, my lower belly on fire, and my shorts barely covering my ass.
My eyes are zeroed in on my phone on the coffee table, and when I finally reach it, relief floods me instantly.
With shaky hands, I get off of Levin's contact info and search for Tommy's as fast as I can.
I don't have many contacts, but it feels like hours before I find Tommy's name in my phone.
I call his work number just in case he has his personal phone off, just in case I can't catch my breath long enough to form a coherent sentence.
He picks up immediately.
"Hey, what's—"
"Tommy, I'm bleeding. I don't—I... What do I do? I don't know what to do!" I rush out in a panic.
My baby. Oh my God, my baby. Our baby. What did I fucking do?
"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. Just breath. Where are you?"
"I'm at home." I tell him shakily.
"Okay. Okay, that's good. Just breath, all right? I'll be there soon."
"Please don't hang up." I make sure to say to him.
And he doesn't hang up. He's on the phone with me the whole time, telling me to breath, to tell him what happened. How I'm feeling.
❄︎❄︎❄︎
Less than twenty minutes later, I'm laying with my legs spread in front of a doctor I've never met.
"Is everything okay?" I question, my eyes screwed shut. I don't want to know, but I have to.
Dr. Neal just shoved multiple foreign things up my vagina, and I'd like to die of embarrassment that a man was just looking at me there, but first I have to know.
"Everything is in order." He laughs. "Nothing to worry about. Bleeding is completely normal at this point in pregnancy, but if it does continue, I suggest you consult your—"
"Yeah, great." Tommy cuts him off, squeezing my hand. "But she was in a lot of pain. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. She happened to just notice the spotting when she had her little accident."
"So, nothing I need to know?" I confirm.
"Nothing you need to know."
A sigh of relief leaves me, my hand instantly finding my little bump. God. I thought this kid was a goner for a second. Or for several minutes, whatever.
Tommy leans over and plants a kiss on my forehead at the news, relief flooding him as well.
I don't think anything of it because I would kiss him too if he were carrying my kid and almost had an at home abortion by accident.
Once the doctor is gone, he asks:
"Are you okay? Feeling better?"
"Yeah. Thanks. I was just really scared. You don't know how bad it hurt, and how scared I was when I could barely stand. I couldn't tell what hurt, so I just... I panicked. I'm sorry for wasting your time."
God, I'm an idiot. Nothing's even wrong and he was probably working. What the hell is wrong with me?
I have to shut that thought down immediately. Because isn't that what being a mom is? The worrying? It's normal and natural, and I don't get to punish myself for that. I was worried, and that's okay.
I take a breath.
He rolls his eyes at me. "You didn't waste my time. If anything, I'm glad it was me you called."
And I don't know what comes over me, but when this familiar feeling blooms in my chest, I can't help but lean forward and I kiss him. Then he's kissing me back. It's a quick, sweet something on the lips that surprises us both.
His brows knit, a frown making its way to his face. "Cindy. That's not what I meant."
I'm not embarrassed like I thought I'd be. It feels good to be rejected after we kissed. Like, I know what I thought I was missing now, and... really? I wasn't missing much.
"Thanks, Tommy. For everything."
"You're welcome."
He smiles gently, leaning over to hug me.
And I love him so much. Just not like I ever did before.
I love him like I'm grateful for what he's been able to give me. Experiences and memories, firsts and lasts. I love him like he's important to me and I'm never going to forget him.
I don't love him like I'm in love with him. At least not anymore.
❄︎❄︎❄︎
Tommy offers to stay the night with me, but I tell him to go home. That I'll be fine. Maybe a little shaken up still, but fine.
On my way to my room, I notice the book I picked up earlier sitting on the floor. I'm careful when I move to pick it up, still in a little bit of pain.
I stare at the book for a long moment, my heart pounding. And then I walk toward my trash can and throw it in there way too aggressively. I never want to see that book every again.
Sure it's unfair to blame a hunk of paper, but it would be bad vibes to keep around anyway.
With that logic, maybe I should just get rid of my couch too. Maybe have my house bulldozed.
After I've showered and dressed for the second time tonight, I settle under my covers and get back to staring at Levin's contact again.
Maybe what I needed to know was if I was really over Tommy already. That's why I kissed him. I mean, it would make sense. The chances of me feeling guilty being with someone who isn't him are higher than I'd ever like to admit. Regardless of if said relationship is fake or not.
After kissing him, after confirming my current feelings for him... it's settled.
So, I finally text Levin.
Me:
So what's our story?