After Cason's panic attack, he has been quiet. I think the fast heart rate and chest tightening scared him more than what he was actually thinking. Who knows what he was thinking, he won't talk about it. He hasn't had another one since, but it's only been two weeks, and we can't predict the future.
I sat at the counter in the kitchen helping Anya cut up vegetables for dinner. She was making a tuna casserole with the stuff we have from the basement. It actually sounds really good. I'm hungry all the time because of the babies, so, anything sounds good to me.
Trace was fishing outside since the ice over the pond is gone completely and the weather is nicer. Weird how it is warm in the middle of winter.
"I'm done with the peppers, Anya," I said to her while leaning back in my chair. "What else do you want me to do?"
"Nothing else really." She took the peppers and washed them again and put them in the glass dish. She put the dish into the oven and set the timer. "Do you want anything?"
"Some lemonade if it's made. Do you mind?" she shook her head and gave me a glass with a straw. "Thanks Anya."
"Welcome." I put my hand on the left side of my stomach. I was huge and look rounder than before. Before my right side was sticking out and now my left matched, so I think there is a baby in both of my uteruses. "Are they kicking?" I nodded and waved for her to come over. I pointed to the spot and she touched my stomach and smiled widely. "Oh my God, I feel them moving inside of you. This is so cool."
"It hurts. Everyone is moving inside me right now." She laughed and cleaned up the mess I made. "I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?"
"Bathroom." I got out of the chair slowly and went upstairs to the bathroom.
I stared at my stomach in the full length mirror. I lifted my shirt and turned to see how big I was. My stomach was shiny and free of stretch marks. There was a dark line going down the middle and my belly button was about to stick out. My back was curving inwards because my stomach is so big, gravity is pulling everything forward.
I smiled widely and stared down at it. I can't wait to meet my babies. I don't care if it's two boys, two girls, or one of each because no matter what I will love them unconditionally.
I went back downstairs and into the living room. The giant box that came is sitting across the room, no one wanting to go near it, especially me. I sat down in the recliner and turned on the television. I had the TV on for mostly noise because lately I need to hear someone's voice at all times.
Anya and Hadley made me a little desk by the recliner and got together paper and pencils so I can draw. I'm really good at sketching and painting, mostly using oil paints and sometimes ink. I like to do still life like landscapes or animals and then I like to do emotion paintings. Emotion paintings are the best because you can draw or paint anything and no one can judge because it shows what is actually happening. An example of an emotion painting is The Scream by Edvard Munch.
Last year, I did a painting that I did not intend to show anyone. one day, I was home and my mother was talking about Rydal and how perfect she is, so, the first thing I drew was a girl in the background, just her face and torso, and then from there I drew out a shadow of herself but as a skeleton and sad looking. After that I decided I wanted to incorporate an animal, mostly a raven, for it is a dark bird and I was going through a dark time at the moment. I drew it so the raven was flying out of the head of the skeleton and into the sky, meaning it is trying to escape the trap it has been caught in.
I wanted no one to see this drawing because it was very personal to me. I had my portfolio and it was a big, black, bulky folder that held all of my drawings and paintings from high school. Cason took it one day by accident, I left it in his truck, and he saw the drawing on top of the pile. He gave it to the art teacher, Mrs. Hilton, and she entered it into a contest the Museum of Modern Art was holding for young aspiring artists. The first place prize was a month long exhibit and a thousand dollars for college. I won first place.
I was so excited to tell my parents that I won and wanted them to go to my exhibit. I got home the night before winter break with the news and Rydal was at the house. My mother was home early from work and my father was cooking.
"Mom, dad, I have good news," I said walking into the house.
"Not now, Locklyn, Rydal has to tell us something," my mother said and smiled at Rydal. I sighed and went to the dining room table for dinner. We all sat down and began to eat. "Now, Rydal, what is the news?" my mother was ecstatic about Rydal being home.
"I was just offered a modeling contract in Europe for the next two years."
"What?!" my father sounded upset and my mother sounded excited when they both yelled at the same time.
"This is so exciting," my mother hugged Rydal.
"No, you are not going to Europe for two years straight," my father was angry. "I will not let my daughter go prancing around a different country with barely any clothes on. The boys over there are dirt bags."
"Dad, this is my job. I'm twenty-one years old. I'm not a child anymore. You let me move to California, why is Europe different?"
"It is a whole different country; one you have never been to."
"Dad, I'm going and you can't stop me." Rydal was getting upset with our father. "You let Locklyn have a boyfriend and they did it and stuff."
"Rydal!" I yelled and smacked her. "You don't know anything about Cason and I's relationship."
"You two are glued at the hip and everyone knows about what you two did in the boiler room at school."
"Locklyn Giovanna!" my father yelled at me. "What did Cason and you do in the boiler room?"
"Nothing, Dad. Rydal is just listening to the rumors being spread about us. We haven't done anything bad." He nodded. "Well, I have good news that can turn everything around."
"It won't be as good of news like Rydal's," my mother said.
"Gwyneth, I can't believe you just said that to our daughter." My father was sticking up for me. "Locklyn, what is this good news? I can't wait to hear it."
I sighed and said, "My drawing won first place in a contest the MOMA was holding and I get a month long exhibit. All of my paintings and drawings will be on display beginning January 12th. I want everyone to be there opening night because this is very important to me and can kick start my career."
"I can't go, I have work," my mother said coldly. I looked over at Rydal and she didn't care about what I said.
"I will be there, Lock." my father had the biggest smile on his face. "I can't wait to see your paintings and drawings, you are a very talented girl and I'm proud at the hard work you put into your art."
"Thanks, Dad," I said and continued eating.
My father was the only one out of my family to go to my exhibit. I was upset that my mother missed it, but I mean it isn't the first time it happened. Now, if it was Rydal, that's a different story.
I started to draw whatever was coming to mind and that was a flower, but no ordinary flower, a flower that branched into other flowers and kept going, all different and realistic like.
While drawing, the news reporter on the national news channel came on and said, "The trial of Senator Reed Quinn's murder has been extended due to unknown causes. On August 17th 2012, Senator Quinn was brutally attacked and murdered. The president ruled it out as an act of terrorism because of the accusations of fraud Quinn encountered about two months prior." She paused and looked down at the desk. She knew something wasn't right about this story but can't say her opinion for it is the national news. "No witnesses were reported at the time Quinn was murdered. Neighbors called police for screaming and when they arrived, senator Quinn's body was found. Here is Detective David Beemer from New York City, Unit Twelve investigating division."
That is Trace's father. I sat up and watched closely. Trace's father stood at the podium and looked like he is in pain. He has bags under his eyes, his face is covered with scruff, and he looks thinner than before we left. He misses Trace.
"Senator Reed Quinn's body was discovered on August 17th 2012 at approximately 1:06 in the morning. Autopsy reports stated that Quinn suffered five gunshot wounds to the neck, back, arm, and leg. While searching the area for suspects and a weapon, police found a trail of blood, coming from the thick wooded area nearby. It was Senator Quinn's." David sighed and continued with his speech. "As of right now, no suspects were taken into custody. We are still searching for them and have extra officers patrolling for the suspects. They are believed to be three white males, strong builds, and mid-thirties. They were wearing all black and no one could point out their faces. Thank you, that is all." David left the stage and the screen went black.
It just doesn't add up to me. No witnesses but they have a description. A very vague description. It can be any white thirty-year-old male. How do they know if the three men were even thirty? Are there certain postures or walks that thirty year olds have?
We were witnesses to that murder! How come we are in this cabin? What is the reason behind it all?
"Oh," I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and rubbed the right side of my stomach. "Oh, what is going on in there?" I looked at my stomach and saw some small movement to it. "Come on, don't hurt mommy now," I said to my stomach. Soon, it felt like a someone was using me as a punching bag from the inside out. I put my other hand on my left side and rubbed my whole stomach. "Ow." I had my eyes closed tightly and wasn't breathing. I was holding my breath thinking it may stop the babies from kicking and moving.
Trace came into the living room and saw that I was in pain. "Lock, you okay?" he came over to me and moved the small desk. "You need to breathe, come on, now." I let out a breath and sighed. "You okay? You looked like you were in pain?"
"I am in pain. The babies began to kick all at once and I never had it hurt like that. I was watching the news and your father came on to talk about Senator Quinn's murder. I think it stressed me out because of what he said. I think I will be fine. Don't worry about me."
"My father was on TV?" I nodded and rubbed my stomach. I sat back and was taking slow deep breaths.
"Jeez, that was scary, imagine what labor pains will be like for me. I'm not good with pain."
"I know. But wait, my father was on TV and you didn't call me in here. How does he look?"
"I wasn't thinking. The babies were kicking and everything. He looks tired and very thin. He didn't shave and had bags under his eyes." Trace sat down next to me and covered his face. "Trace, I'm sorry."
"No, he is grieving and I was worried it would happen while I am here. Those are some of the signs for grief, no sleep, not eating right, and not caring about how you look. I knew it happen the minute I left home. Shit!"
"Don't start worrying about your father, he will be okay, and before you know it, we will be home." Trace nodded and sat next to me quietly.