Blog #7: Wrath

I woke up early, the clock read 6:30. I instinctively rubbed my stomach, my 6 month bump was finally enough to force me into maternity clothes. I pulled on my robe and snuck pass my mother snoring on the pull out couch. I headed up to the roof to watch the sunrise. The breeze was cool but comfortable. I saw Victor and Jack up there too. I waved and then headed to my own corner. I wanted to feel peaceful as I watch the sun come up and the light of the new day refreshed my spirit. I expected a calming feeling to come over me and the stress to fade away as I thought of leaving my mom at the airport later that day. Instead I felt a hot rage. I was angry. Angry at my mother for her incessant pleading and hurtful comments. I was angry at Willis for coming to visit me when I had asked him not to and even more angry that I had let anything happen with him. As I made breakfast my mother started her daily interrogation.

“When will you tell me why you won't tell Willis?” she pleaded

“Why does it matter?” I hissed.

“It matters because he should be a part of the child's life and that means a part of mine.”

“This isn't about you. This is about me and this baby. At this point I don't want you anywhere near him. I don't want you anywhere near me. I want you to leave. Now. Call a cab to the airport. I don't care, just leave.” She stood there staring at the spatula I had been swinging around and my eggs burning in the pan. Without a word she turned around, grabbed her bags, and left.

I pulled out my phone and text my dad.

“If you have time in your super busy schedule, call your daughter. I’m pregnant. It's a boy. I know with all of Sue’s doctors appointments this doesn’t seem like a priority but I'd like to see you. Maybe I’ll hear from you, who knows?”

Blog #6: The Sunday Comics

I stared out the window at the fog that obstructed my view of the town. It looked like how I imagined my brain did.

“I’m pregnant.” The line went silent. For a few seconds I could hear my heart beating. The fog appeared to be thickening. I could barely make out the west tower of the Maitland 30 feet away.

“Who’s the father?” Typical. She never thought about me, only the ways in which I could embarrass her. I knew she wanted to make sure that no one indecent would be attached to the family.

“I’m four and a half months along, the baby is healthy! I am finding out the gender next week. I’m hoping for a girl but I would really be happy with a boy too.” My best attempt at changing the subject. I opened my window, hoping the fresh ai would calm my nerves.

“Bess, who is it?” The apartment began to be filled with the cloudy air.

“Willis, mom. I’m sorry.” She hung up. I knew she would, she always acts like a child when she’s unhappy. At least she knew, as she was leaving to come see me the next day.

I decided to distract myself by reading the newspaper. I flipped right to page 6. Reading the comics had always been the highlight of my Sundays. I started to read Zits and realized I had seen this one before. I knew I had because I remember bringing it to school to show Marshal and Owen in our first period music class with Ms.Chaker. I had just begun to make friends after moving here over the Christmas of 2012. I was 14 and terrified. Marshal and Owen were the first people to introduce themselves to me. They were both older, a junior and senior respectively. Our friendship was unbreakable for the next four years. They both graduated but stuck around, I would skip school ot get lunch with them, we would meet at Alice’s for midnight snacks, they would pretend to be my dad to check me out of school. Very Ferris Bueller's Day Off. When I left for college, and my dad moved back to Texas, we lost touch. The Zits comic brought all of those feels of love back to me. I had seen Owen and Marshal around, sometimes we would smile at each other but most of the time we would treat each other like strangers, reminders of our past we would do anything to ignore.

I snapped out of my thoughts and noticed I was surrounded by fog. I slammed the window shut and turned on the fan, tripping over my coffee table on the way.

Blog #5: "It will all work out, Bessy."

I’ve never been superstitious, never been scared of black cats or broken mirrors, but that night something came over me. I was still reeling from my visit to the doctors. I couldn't wrap my head around the new life growing inside of me, let alone it had been there for three months. Pregnant. The word seemed to have little meaning after the 100th time I had said it that day. When I saw the shooting star I decide to make a wish because it seemed like that was all I could do. I wished for peace. Not for me necessarily, but for the town. Maybe it was me projecting onto other the way I felt with myself. I was angry that I had gotten drunk that night, potentially harming my baby. But most of all I was angry that I had no control over my life, a fact I was slowly realizing. The wish was my pitiful way of denying that.

I was growing more and more anxious to find out my test results. My carelessness the day of Mr. Evans funeral could result in a lifetime of struggles for my unborn child. I should have known I was pregnant. I was months late and my usual bloating had been drawn out. For reasons I was trying to forget, I had denied the obvious.

As soon as I found out, I went to Alice’s. She had been my surrogate mother since I had moved to East Maitland and I knew she would have the best advice. “It will all work out, Bessy.” She said, soothingly. I hoped she was right.

I had finally worked up the courage to call my mother. I knew I had to tell her soon, she was coming to visit in a 2 months and my bump was getting harder and harder to hide. She knew something was wrong the second she picked up the phone.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Is it that guy?”

“Mom, its okay, I’m fine. I’m excited to see you!”

“Me too sweetie. What’s wrong?”

"Nothing mom, I'm really okay. I'll talk to you later." I hung up.