Elliot
***
I could hear them talking from outside the door. There was a women's voice, her tone low, only, to my disadvantage, I couldn't tell what she was saying. She sounded nervous, anxious, jumpy. I couldn't just barge in.
I could hear my boss responding to the unfamiliar voice, in her usual snappy, tough-as-nails forum that made me sweat. Even the simplicity of hearing the muffled translations was enough to make me picture her gaze, so uncanny, so knowing-- it makes me turn away each time it fills mine.
I had been standing still and keeping to myself for so long that by the time the door I was leaning against pushes open, I hop backwards and nearly spill the coffee tray I was holding all over my top. Great, I think to myself. I was becoming jumpy again, getting startled by almost everything.
"Oh, Elliot," my CEO smiles, her shoulders square as she closes the door behind her. She had recently cut her hair to her shoulders, and it fell limp over her blouse. She was aging, small, creased wrinkles pressing beside her temples. "I was just coming out to get you."
"I- I got your c-coffee," I stutter, looking down briefly to double check that I really didn't spill anything. You can never be too sure. Lucky for me, no one was really around to see my little mishap. Interns aren't supposed to go into meetings unless they're called to, which I wasn't-- so most of the office was in their own meetings at the time.
"Oh, good," she chirps, clearly exhausted. She takes the cup I offer her, bringing it to her lipstick-smeared lips and taking a sip. "We have a new intern, a reporter from Rolling Stones. They warned us about her, said she was a little tense."
"Is that who was in there?" I ask. I try to seem friendly, like we're best mates, even though she makes me so nervous I want to turn around and run away most of the time.
"Yes, that's her. She's not much older than you, so I figured I would place her in your department."
"But you said she's a reporter?" I furrow my eyebrows.
"She is, but you will be too after your internship."
I nearly choke on my own saliva. "What?"
I waited for her to laugh and wave a hand, show some indication that she was kidding-- but she didn't. She just stood there and took another sip of her coffee.
I can't be a reporter. I'm not loud enough, or bold enough, or scary enough. I don't have the courage to step into a giant swarm of chaos and jam a microphone in someone's face. At least, I think that's what reporters do.
"We all agreed, it's where you'd fit best. Don't act like its such a bad thing, dear. It pays quite a bit, and you'd do a hell of a job," she compliments, ready to end it there and get back to work.
"I seriously do not agree," I try to calm down. "I'm a novelist, ma'am. I don't know the first thing about reporting."
"That's what she is here for," she points toward the office door, where the Rolling Stones reporter hasn't exited yet. I hoped we weren't talking too loud. Though if I know anything, the door is almost completely soundproof.
"I'm sure you'll find it entirely easier than you think," she winks, and my breath halts. I can't handle her acting like we're friends, too.
"Go on in and meet her," she encourages me, beginning to walk away and yelling over her shoulder. "Her name's Brooke. Be careful Miss Johnson, she's not a walk in the park. Oh, and grab the coffee for the publishers section when you're done, their meeting is ending in about ten minutes."
And as soon as she picks up the pace and turns the corner, making her way towards the third corridor, I stand there, deflated, not knowing how the piece together my new career knowledge. It just kept repeating over and over in my head, reporter??
I wasn't lying when I said I knew nothing about reporting. Unless this Brooke girl has spent most of her life studying it, and can teach me everything in the given time, I'm so going to flunk out of this place.
I guess I had no choice.
I had to introduce myself right away.
***
Shawn
"I think this is the first free weekend we've had in a while," Sarah says enthusiastically, waddling behind me through her wide-open front door.
I set down the heavy box of clothes I was wearing and look up at her, exhaling thoroughly. "Yes, and we get to spend it unpacking all of my shit."
She giggles, obviously taking advantage of her oversized stomach by not being able to help me carry any of the larger boxes. Even though it infuriated me, since I had to do all the heavy lifting, I wasn't bothered too much-- I knew if the tables were turned, I would've done the same.
"Can you believe this is actually happening?" she grins, her voice soft. "I mean, at first I was terrified of being a mom, since I didn't have one growing up and I wasn't sure if I could play it out right. But knowing I have you, I... I don't know. It really calms me down. We're going to be parents, living together! I mean, how exciting is that?"
"So exciting," I return her smile.
I wasn't sure how well I played that off. I mean, I'm going to be honest, there was a part of me that was totally psyched. At first, I freaked-- but that was normal. The bottom line is that I'm going to have a daughter in a few weeks, and nothing could prepare me for the joy that follows a child.
However, there was an even bigger part of me that didn't want to let go of this life I've spent years building. Of course, it was all an accident, but I fell in love with music in high school and now I can't do it for a living anymore, and, call it wrong, but that doesn't sound like joy to me at all.
And then there was the fans. They attacked me, stalked me, ripped up some of my favorite clothes with their scrawny, handsy fingers-- even gave me anxiety-- but the thought of leaving them for good with no warning terrified me more than all of that combined. I hated them with a passion, but loved them with an even bigger one. And now they're going to forget about me, and there was no joy in that, either.
I guess I didn't have a choice, anyway. I can't just abandon my child. That was something that I reached for, one night, out of stress, and it turned completely around on me. I guess I'm kind of lucky it did, though. I can't imagine what would've happened if Elliot had said yes. Luckily, I didn't have to.
"Will you get the mail while I finish unpacking these last few?" I yell over my shoulder to Sarah, setting the box I was carrying down on the queen sized and prying back the tape.
"Sure," she calls in return, and a few moments later I hear the front door close.
As I was digging through the box of clothes-- which by the way, I have no idea why I kept, since I wear the same t-shirt and jeans everyday of my life-- my phone started buzzing in my back pocket.
I thanked every god of every religion; I've been unpacking all day and was relieved I didn't have to start on another box.
I took so long to get to it, I almost missed the call, so I skipped the caller ID check and went straight for hello.
"Hey," the familiar voice says in response, and I take a minute to gather myself.
"Aaliyah?"
"Yeah, hi," she mutters, trying to get right to the point. "Listen, Mum's about to call you."
"Why? Wh--"
"She's going to talk your ear off about baby-proofing the place. It kind of just hit her that she's going to be a grandma and she's not taking it so well."
Her voice was the same-- a touch of humor, giddy, like a little kid, but as if she was rolling her eyes every five seconds at the same time. The last time I talked to her was almost three months ago, right before Mum actually found out the rumors were true. Talking to her gave a certain palpable ping in my gut, like she was right here beside me, and nothing has ever happened.
"Baby-proofing?" I scoff, tracing my fingers along the edge of the cardboard in front of me.
"You did, didn't you?" she laughs. "Please tell me you did."
Absentmindedly, I take a glance around the room. I could see the bathroom door swung open in the corner, the toilet seat lifted up-- something a small child could get into with ease. Lower cabinet drawers were easy to be pulled open by small, chubby hands, its contents at reach. And then there were all the outlets in the place, in plain view, provoking dangerous risks for an infant.
"Of course I did," I lie. "Sarah and I did that months ago."
"Good, because otherwise, Mum would chew. You. Out."
"Thanks for the warning, Al. What are you up to, by the way?"
"Homework, then meeting up with friends later. The usual. Why?"
"Just curious," I shrug. I know it sounds stupid, but talking to her made me remember what life used to be like. I haven't done homework since I was sixteen, and the only "friends" I've hung out with in the last few years are Andrew and Sarah. Even a simple conversation with her was enough to make me realize not everyone lives the way I do, not even my little sister.
"So, I'm really gonna be an aunt, huh?" She sighs, and her voice jumps, as if she had plopped down on the bed.
"Guess so," I say. "Good news is, I'll be visiting more often."
"It'll be so weird seeing you with a baby," she says.
"Oh yeah? How so?" I arch an eyebrow, a smile creeping upon my face.
"Oh you know what I mean, God help the child that has to be raised by you. I mean, come on, Shawn. You're still growing up."
I hated to admit it, but she was right. How am I supposed to take care of a child when I didn't even think to baby-proof my own life? They taught me how to put a condom on in high school health class, yet somehow I skipped that step and changed so many lives by one stupid night. Rearing a kid, well, that might take more attention than condom 101 sessions.
"You're so right," I mumble. "I don't need a baby. I have you, and you're winey enough."
"Ha," she snorts, and I could practically see her rolling her eyes. "God I miss you."
"I miss you, too, Aaliyah," I reply, pressing my lips together.
Just then, my phone starts buzzing again in my hands, and I had to resist the urge to groan.
"Mum's calling," I yawn.
"Godspeed."
I laugh, mumbling a quick goodbye and catching the call before it runs out of ringing. It was fortunate for me that Aaliyah gave me a warning, otherwise I would've been completely unprepared for the yacking.
Sarah waddles in the room right then, holding a few envelopes in her hand. She gives me a blank stare, holding one of the papers up to her chest and giving me that look. I needed to get off the phone soon, otherwise I'm about to get yacked at yet again.
"Yes, Mum, I promise," I say for the nth time, and I begin to believe that I actually have baby-proofed this place. "Listen, I'll have to call you back later."
"Alright. Okay. I'm going. But seriously, make sure Sarah's place is comfy-cozy for me and Aaliyah when we fly out for the delivery, because--"
"Okay, yes, I'm on it," I bite my lip, ready to hang up already or shoot myself, one or the other-- either would do.
"Okay. Bye, Shawn. Love you."
"Love you too," I suppress a grin, feeling happy to have said that quite the number of times today.
I end the call and toss my phone on the bed, not wanting to do any more talking for the day. In fact, I felt the overwhelming desire to crash, but I knew that wasn't an option.
"What's that?" I ask Sarah, eyeing the envelope in her hands.
She looked uneasy, as if she was strangely close to tears. "It's my invitation."
"For?"
Her chin quivers, her eyes drifting all around my area but never landing on me. "The Forest Runners premiere."
She walks towards me slowly, easing down on the edge of the best and placing her fingers on her temples. "I don't want to show up all fat and pregnant."
"You're not fat, Sarah," I say sternly, which was only partly true. She had gained some weight, but not nearly as much as I thought she would. And she still looked gorgeous anyhow.
"Still, people will take pictures and shame me, I'm so not ready for that. I can't handle it."
"Then don't go," I shrug.
"I can't just not go, I'm the star of the movie. People will get the wrong idea and spread even more rumors, Shawn."
I was about ready to tell her she's way overreacting about this, but I knew it was just hormones. With this last few weeks, I have to be prepared for the worst side of her.
"Becoming a mother is not a crime," I say quietly, sitting down next to her and grabbing her hand. "It's nothing to be ashamed about, Sarah. And it's not like you'll be there alone. I'll be there, right beside you, walking you down that red carpet while you proudly display our daughter."
I place the ball of my clammy palm on her belly, holding it there until she looks down at it, and sets hers on top, a single tear plopping down on her cherry red striped dress.
She looks over at me, round eyes turning pink.
"I love you so much," she manages, and for a moment, I stopped looking at her as the crazed celebrity I knocked up. It was stupid that I was just now coming to this realization, but I began to see her as someone capable of being loved. She was skin and bone, with a heart so big and ready to share, and for some reason, she was settling for me.
And all I did was say things that I wanted to be true, but at the same time, I couldn't manage on my own if they were. I was a terrible person, and I couldn't bring myself to give a shit.
But even though I couldn't look her in the eyes and tell her I loved her too, I just close the gap between us and plant a kiss on her forehead.
So simple, but I couldn't go on letting her think that she was alone in this world. Because if I wasn't in-love with her, there was no denying that she meant something to me.
A lot.
***
next chapter is gon hit y'all so hard lmao