I sat with my knees to my chest as I drank my smoothie and watched the tele with Harry in our tele-room. We cuddled close together as we both focused on the screen in front of us. We were both quite tense as we watched the movie, which startled us both. The Shining, while although a classic movie, was a quite scary movie. Harry would flinch whenever Jack Nicholson would laugh maniacally or would smirk in a creepy way. I found it quite amusing that Harry found the movie pretty scary; I loved to laugh at his expense.
“Wendy? Darling? Light, of my life. I’m not gonna hurt ya. You didn’t let me finish my sentence. I said, I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’m just going to bash your brains in.” Jack Torrance seethed at his wife as he slowly chased her up the stairs.
“Oh fuck.” Harry cursed.
I chuckled, continuing to watch as Wendy swung her bat at him until she hit his hand and then head. He went tumbling down the stairs and lay there unconscious. Harry shouted at the tele, “Run, Wendy! Just run!”
I chuckled at his expense, shaking my head at how girly and childish he could be. He clung onto my arm, luckily it wasn’t the one that was holding onto my smoothie, and so I was still able to drink it just fine. I drank as I watched Jack being dragged across the floor of the kitchen.
“Why the fuck did you make me watch this movie?” Harry hissed at me.
“Because it’s good.” I half-lied. I also made him watch it because I knew it would scare the shit out of him. There was nothing more life affirming.
Harry kept clinging onto me as we sat beside each other. Harry sat resting against the back of the couch with his legs spread so that I could sit between them, resting my back against Harry’s chest. He had his arms wrapped around me, his chin on my shoulder to watch the screen in front of us. Although he was afraid, he was still like my rock; he kept me warm and made me feel protected.
I smiled and leaned further back against Harry, just happy to have him in my life. Those months that I had been kidnapped and taken away from Harry were much harder on me than I had initially noticed. I became much more dependent on Harry and our relationship. I needed him and I doubted that I could live without him.
When Danny Torrance started to chant Redrum in his creepy voice, Harry cursed, “I can’t fucking do this. This is so fucking weird. I’m going to go get a beer and I’ll be back.”
I got up so that he could. He left the room and I laughed to myself. He was so childish, but I loved him for it. I sat back down, chugged the rest of my smoothie and watched the movie.
“Monreau? You in here?” Jeannie asked from outside in the hallway.
“Y-yep.” I called back, keeping my eyes glued to the tele.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she walked into the room, as I heard. “Oh, The Shining, classic movie.”
“Yeah. It’s g-great, but Harry is f-freaked out of his m-mind.” I said, still watching the tele as Danny wrote Redrum in lipstick on the door.
“Really? Should I scare him?” Jeannie whispered, as if afraid she would be doing something bad. Being a girlfriend of a gang member, you would think that she would be used to doing bad things, but she’s a goody-two-shoes.
“W-would you?” I asked of her, smirking to myself.
“Yes. That would be so much fun.” Jeannie said with a devilish smile. I had never seen her wear a sly grin, but it looked good on her. Maybe it was because of her thin lips that she looked so sly, but she looked cute when she looked bad.
I heard Harry’s footsteps coming back. I pointed behind the couch so Jeannie could hide there. Just as she crouched down, Harry walked in with a bottle of beer. The beer was so cold that it dripped water from the bottle and onto Harry’s hand. He sipped back the bright yellow liquid, sloshing it in his mouth for a second before swallowing it down.
“Anything important happen?” Harry asked.
“You were gone for l-literally t-ten seconds.” I pointed out to him.
“Why are you stuttering?” he asked, sitting down beside me instead of behind me. “You don’t stutter in front of me anymore.” He sipped his beer as he eyed my suspiciously.
“I s-stutter now and then.” I said quietly.
“But not with me. What’s up?”
“N-nothing.” I lied. “Just watch the m-movie.”
“Redrum.” Danny chanted in his creepy voice as he approached his mother’s bed. “Redrum.”
“What the fuck is redrum?” Harry murmured under his breath.
I shushed him and continued to watch the movie, trying not to smirk to myself at what Jeannie was going to do. I wanted to scare Harry so badly. I would probably lose it laughing when it happened. But I had to ready and not blow it, so I kept my poker face on.
Wendy saw the Redrum, which was written on the wall, in the mirror and screamed because she could see that it said Murder backwards.
“Fuck!” Harry cursed out loud, covering his hand over his eyes.
I tried not to laugh at him by covering my palm over my giggling mouth. Harry was such a pussy sometimes, but I liked that about him.
We watched for a few more minutes, Jack approaching Wendy and Danny with the ax, before I heard Jeannie’s voice right by Harry’s ear whisper, “Redrum” in Danny’s creepy voice.
Harry screamed, a manly deep scream, and jumped up off the couch, which caused him to spill his beer slightly. He looked back, utterly startled.
Jeannie and I burst out laughing at how startled he looked. His eyes bulged out of his head and his lower lip popped out awkwardly with his jaw dropped. He looked so ridiculous; I just wished that I could have taken a picture or something. I fell across the couch, my hands clutching my stomach as I repeatedly laughed uncontrollably.
“Why the fuck did you do that?” Harry snapped and scowled at Jeannie, whom was also still laughing. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“That’s what I was trying to do.” Jeannie pointed out, still laughing. “You should have seen your face!”
“Fuck off.” Harry grumbled.
He sat back down on the couch next to me, pouting to himself. I continued to laugh to myself, though it quieted down eventually. Jeannie left the room, still laughing to herself.
“I’m going to get you back so badly.” Harry warned me, pointing his finger accusingly at me. “I’m going to scare you until you literally shit your pants.”
“I’m not easily scared, Harold.” I confessed, smiling cockily at him. “So if I were you, I wouldn’t even try.”
Harry sighed and began watching the movie yet again. I smirked to myself, still laughing at how stupid he looked when he jumped up from being scared. I giggled to myself when I imagined him again being so scared. It was quite funny actually.
“Shut up.” Harry hissed, slapping my arm. “Just watch the fucking movie.”
I rolled my eyes and continued to watch as Jack cut opened the bathroom door with his ax. Harry flinched whenever the ax would hit the door, making me grin at how jumpy he was. I knew Harry was afraid, but I didn’t know he was this afraid.
The movie finished and Harry sighed with relief. “That last part gave me chills.” Harry said.
“Me too.” I agreed. “Do you want to go to bed?”
“Why? What times is it?” Harry asked.
“Just before midnight, I think.” I assumed.
“Okay. Let’s go now.” Harry said as he stood up from the couch, chugging the last bit of beer in his bottle.
“I’ll wash my glass and then I’ll be right up.” I said, taking my smoothie soiled glass off the coffee table. “Go without me.”
“I was planning on it.” He teased.
We went our separate ways, him towards the bedroom and me to the kitchen.
Everyone else was in bed, so I was alone in the kitchen. I set the glass down in the sync and ran water into it and rubbed it down with a rag to clean it. I cleaned the rest of the dishes in the sink while I was at it. My shirt got slightly wet just over my stomach, but I continued to wash the dishes with the mould-smelling drying rag draped over my bare shoulder.
I was going to be a mother. Sometimes it would hit me at the most random times, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. I rested my soapy hands on the edge of the sink, leaning my weight there as I bowed down my head. I was dying inside. My brain was so internally exhausted from the flipping of perspectives. I knew that I didn’t like children, nor wanted them, but I had to change that for the sake of Harry and my baby. I was going to be a mother and had to want this, I just had to. But the changing of my wants was hard for me since I didn’t change by just a clap of someone’s hands; it was a long process in which I had seven more months to live with. It was going to be a long seven months.
It was so hard to believe that in seven months, I would be holding my child in my arms. In seven months, I would be a mother. Seven months was the length of time that I was held kidnapped in that barn by the East. Those seven months were hell because I was tortured, starved, beaten, and abused. But the next seven months would be so mentally exhausting and cruel; that it could easily be compared to the seven months I had been kidnapped for.
I was still no mother, but I was working on it.
When I finished washing the dishes, I dried my hands, put away the now clean dishes, and went upstairs to where my bedroom was. I could see light seeping just underneath the crack of the door, meaning that Harry was still up. Good, I didn’t want him falling asleep on me. Sometimes, when he fell asleep when we were watching movies, I would purposely wake him up but pretend that I didn’t, just because I didn’t want to be alone.
I pulled opened the door and frowned when I saw that Harry was inspecting a book. My book. It was my book that my dad made me when I was sixteen. It had a bunch of photos of me from when I was born to sixteen, and I had attempted to keep it going, but I didn’t have all that many photos of myself.
“What are you doing with that?” I thought aloud, wondering how he got a hold of it.
“You left it in the drawer.” Harry stated simply, not looking up from the book. “Care to join me as I take a stroll down your past?”
I rolled my eyes, but smirked, at his cheesiness. I crawled onto my side of the bed, grabbed my reading glasses off the nightstand, slid them on and sat down next to Harry. We were both leaning against the wall behind us, side by side, beautifully.
“What? You wear glasses?” Harry noticed, staring at my fairly large reading glasses.
“For reading, yeah.” I replied.
He scoffed, “Nerd.”
I chuckled, shaking my head at him.
My eyes found the very first image in the book, which was the first photo ever taken of me. It was a picture of me at a year and a half and it was just some random photo that my mum took. I remember seeing this picture at twelve and hating my mother for taking it. I thought I looked like shit, but I loved it later on in life. I was also sad that I didn’t have more pictures of myself as a kid. Pictures were proof that the things in my past had happened, and it gives people images when they can’t remember every detail of their past.
“You were really cute.” Harry complimented, touching his finger to my puffy cheeks in the picture. “I hope our kid is cute like you.”
I blushed at his compliment. “Thank you.” I mumbled quietly to myself.
“Look at those curls.” Harry pointed at the blonde ringlets that stood erect in all directions from my head.
“I know. I had blonde curly hair. Good thing I grew out of it.” I muttered.
“Why? You didn’t like it?”
“Seems girly.” I mumbled with a shrug. “Plus, my nickname that my parents gave me until I was five was Shirley Temple.”
Harry laughed at that. “Shirley Temple? That’s fucking rich.”
I chuckled, shaking my head at him. I flipped to the next page while he just laughed at my old nickname. I smiled when I recognized the picture of me when I was two. I was on my daddy’s shoulders, holding a football high above my head, though the football was massive to my tiny little arms. I smiled at how cute I looked with my baseball cap covering my eyes. I also smiled at how young my dad looked, his teeth were glistening as he smiled naturally. I couldn’t imagine life without him.
“How old was your dad here?” Harry asked.
“Probably fifty.” I assumed with a shrug.
“No offence, but that seems pretty fucked up.”
I rolled my eyes, taking slight offence, though I didn’t say anything. Why would I start a fight over this? Plus, we’ve fought that fight way to often and way too many times.
“But you were fat as a baby.” Harry said, pointing to the picture of me on me on my daddy’s shoulders. “Look at those cheeks, you were chunky.”
“Well chunky is cute.” I defended.
“Sure.” Harry teased me more.
“I bet you were like Jabba-the-Hut as a baby.” I joked, making Harry roar with laughter. I loved how great we joked with one another.
Harry flipped to the next page and smirked to himself at the photo. It was me at three years old. I was wearing a pair of Monster Truck pajamas, with my hair wet and crimped because I had just had a bath. I was smiling widely for my mum as she took the photo of me. The photo was not a good one of me, but it was still pretty cute.
“Weirdo.” Harry muttered before flipping to the next photo.
After a few more pages, I grew tired. I got off the bed, abandoning Harry, and went to my dresser to dress for bed. I slid down my tank top to my waist and removed my bra before sliding it back up into place. I then took off my shorts, ready to put on a new pair, but Harry’s voice stopped me.
“Nice panties, Granny.” He teased me.
He claimed that all of my panties were like Granny-panties. I didn’t agree, of course, but he was insistent. I laughed, turning around to look at his devilish smirk, which I knew that he was wearing.
“But you think these are hot.” I teased him; rising up the tank top so that he could see how high up my panties went.
He chuckled. “Of course they are. They’re so sexy.” He muttered sarcastically.
“What about the glasses?” I joked.
“Hot.” He teased.
“And the lack of bra beneath my tank top?”
“Sexy.” He teased again.
I came over and stood on the bed at his feet, looking down at his smirking face. I turned around, bent over slightly, but watched Harry over my shoulder.
“Don’t these make my butt look so flat?” I teased with a laugh.
“The flattest.”
“And don’t they just compliment me?” I teased, raising my tank top up again so that he could see that they went to just below my bellybutton. “They really flatter my hips.”
“They do.”
“And my saggy boobs just put it over the top.” I joked, laughing to myself.
“The saggiest.” He teased me with a laugh.
“You like them saggy.” I stated with another laugh.
“I like them very saggy.”
I roared with laughter, falling back onto the bed beside Harry, who was also laughing. We both had a strange kind of humour, but it was what made us perfect for each other.
“Maybe I like old ladies.” Harry joked.
“I’m younger than you.” I pointed out.
“You look like you’re seventy.” He teased, making me laugh again. “Your boobs are all saggy and you wear granny-panties.”
“But you love it.” I teased him further.
He chuckled. “Monreau?”
“Yeah?”
“What do we tell our kid when they ask how we met?” he asked in a serious voice.
“Why can’t we just tell them?” I wondered.
“I think we’re going to need to make it slightly more glamorous.” Harry said in a quiet voice. “I didn’t like how we met.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I was mean to you.”
I smiled to myself. “Now you regret being mean to me.” I teased him. “What was the first thing you said to me?”
“Probably something involving me not wanting you to work on my car.” Harry sighed. “I wish that I could go back and be nicer to you.”
“But then maybe we wouldn’t have been such great friends.” I attempted to reassure him. “Look, Harry, I really don’t give a shit how you treated me then. I mean, we’ve treated each other pretty shitty, so I think we’re even.”
He chuckled. “We are pretty shitty to each other sometimes.” He agreed.
I smiled. “So how about we just go to sleep?” I said. “Because I’m tired.”
“Okay.” Harry mumbled. He cuddled closer to me and rested his head on my stomach, just where our baby lay. Harry clutched onto my waist, holding me tight. I ran my fingers through his long hair. He needed a haircut.
“Harry?” I mumbled.
“What?” he grumbled against my stomach.
“Did you hear about the guy who had his whole left side cut off in an accident?” I randomly blurted out. “He’s all right now.”
I chuckled at my joke, but Harry stayed quiet, just listening to me.
“I’m glad I know sign language. It’s very handy.” I continued to joke, laughing at my own lame jokes. I did this a lot when I was tired.
“Monreau, go to sleep.” Harry mumbled.
“One more. I held open a door for a clown the other day. I thought it was a nice jester.” I snickered at my own joke, this time more than before. I didn’t know why I found it so funny, because they weren’t.
“Just go to sleep.” Harry complained.
“I can’t. I’m too awake.” I half-lied. I felt slightly energetic, but exhausted.
“Doesn’t milk help you get to sleep?”
“Yeah?” I asked rather than stated.
“Do you want me to get you a glass of milk?”
“Yeah.”
Harry sighed, got off of me and left the room in nothing but pajama pants. I admired his bare back before he left the room. I took slight pride in myself knowing that that man was my boyfriend, my guy. I was his girl.
What would we tell our kid? I was a mechanic and Harry came in to get his car fixed. We met up “accidentally” again and started to hang out more. That was pretty close to the reality, but it wasn’t the whole truth. That was as detailed I was going to get in my explanation to my kid about how we met. Because our story wasn’t glamourous, it wasn’t that great to tell, but it was great to live. If I had the choice to go back and change anything, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t change that American skank he dated when I was kidnapped, nor all the fights we’ve had, nor the baby; not anything. Our story was perfect.
I crawled beneath the warm duvet, clutching it to my chest as I stared up at the charcoal coloured ceiling. Would our kid ask how we met? Would our kid care? Would our kid love sports? Would our kid want to be in the gang? Would our kid pass the tests to be in the gang?
All these questions overwhelmed me, so I shut off my brain for a few more minutes, until Harry came back with a tall glass of milk. I took it from him gratefully, chugging it back before setting it down on my nightstand.
Harry crawled into bed with me, resuming our position where he lay on my stomach. I closed my eyes, feeling them grow heavier by the second. I ran my fingers through Harry’s very long hair, sighing tiredly.
“Harry?” I whispered.
“Hm?”
“Can we just tell our kid the truth?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a good story.”
He thought for a few seconds before he replied, “Okay.”
At that, we both fell into light sleeps. I slept peacefully with Harry’s head hovering over our baby, protecting it. He was being protective, which I needed to be. I was going to be a mother soon; I needed to act like one. I only had seven months to go.