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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 12, 2005 21:23:59 GMT -5
Okay, so I caved and decided to make a sequal. I started writing it and it seemed to be pretty good. I couldn't think of a good title, and this happened to be the song I was listening to as I tried to think of one, so it's what I picked. I guess I could've done a lot worse. Anyway, I present to you part one of my new story. Comment pleaseness.
Part One
“Oh my God,” I whispered. I sat on the edge of the bathtub in Tre’s master bathroom. Romy sat in her wheelchair in front of the sink, watching me nervously. So much in my life had changed, and it seemed my life was still changing. Tre had moved into his new house about six months previous, and after deciding that I didn’t like living alone, I had moved in about two months later. He and I lived together, and were loving it, especially now that I didn’t have a psycho ex-boyfriend following me, trying to kill Tre. My mom had moved into town, deciding that she didn’t like living so far away from her “baby”, as she affectionately called me. I had quit my job at Sunrise, getting a job, instead, at a local F.Y.E. The pay wasn’t very amazing, but Tre insisted that I not pay rent or even pay for the groceries, so I hardly had anything I needed to spend money on. I had dyed my hair a lime green color, which Tre seemed to find very sexy, and now there was a new change. I was pregnant. “Are you sure it’s right?” Romy asked, blinking at the pregnancy test in my hand. “I mean, those things aren’t 100% correct all the time.” “This is the eighth one I’ve taken, and they’ve all given me the same results. Every single one of them.” I stared at her. “I can’t be pregnant, Romy. I…I’m not ready.” “You were ready to have sex, weren’t you?” she asked. Sometimes Romy sounded so much like my mother that it drove me crazy. “Shut up,” I grunted. “But seriously, what am I supposed to do?” I was almost crying by this point. “I suggest you tell Tre,” she said. “After all, he is the father, right?” “Oh my God,” I gasped. “Tre. I haven’t even fucking thought about telling Tre. Oh God, what am I going to say?” “Just tell him. What’s the worst that could happen?” She knew right away that she hadn’t asked the most intelligent question. All sorts of thoughts leapt into my head. Thoughts of Tre leaving because he couldn’t take another baby. Thoughts of him making me get an abortion, something I would never do. I couldn’t help but think of all the awful things that could happen now. “Oh God,” I said again, now in tears. “Romy, this isn’t fair.” “Life’s a bitch,” she said. She hardly even seemed interested in my problem. I just stared at her. “What?” she asked, shrugging. “I can’t do anything. I can’t go back in time and say, ‘Bad girl. Don’t screw your boyfriend.’ I wish I could, but I can’t.” “I know,” I sighed, wiping the tears away. “Tre’s going to be back in an hour. Should I tell him right when he comes home?” “I honestly don’t know, Vicky,” Romy sighed. “You know him better than I do.” Romy left about half an hour later. I sat on the couch in the living room, anxiously fidgeting with the pregnancy test. I rehearsed it in my mind. I would just tell him and hope for the best. If I was lucky, Tre would take it well. If not…well, I didn’t want to think about that. “Honey, I’m home,” Tre announced as he entered the house. This was his daily routine now. The guys were still in the studio, constantly recording, and Tre being home during the day was a rarity. I slipped the pregnancy test into my pocket and went over to greet him. “Hey, honey. What’s up?” I asked, wrapping my arms around him and giving him a big hug. “Nothing exciting. We actually recorded an entire song today, without Billie interrupting 80 million times,” he said, smiling. “How about you? How was your day?” “Um, it was okay.” I could almost feel my eye twitching from the horrific lie I had just told. “I got some news.” “News? About what?” he asked. I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the couch. As he sat, I could see the concern on his face. “Did somebody die? Is somebody going to die? What the hell happened?” “Promise me you won’t freak out,” I almost whispered. “I promise. What’s wrong?” I looked up at him. The tears stung at my eyes as I prepared myself for the worst. “I’m pregnant.” “Pre..what?” He blinked at me, as if the words hadn’t registered. “Pregnant? You?” “Yes, me.” “It is mine, right?” “Of course,” I nodded. “I haven’t slept with anybody else.” “So I’m going to be a dad…again.” He didn’t seem angry, but he didn’t seem too thrilled either. “Yeah. Your third kid and my first.” “That’s great,” he said, though he didn’t sound all that excited. He kissed me. “I love you so much.” “I love you too,” I whispered, fighting back tears. He was being so nice, so understanding. For someone so crazy and weird, he knew when to be serious. “I get to be a dad again,” he repeated as he embraced me. “This should be fun.”
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xxnimrod
American Idiot
Tr?'s Dominated Love Slave
Posts: 27
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Post by xxnimrod on Jun 13, 2005 0:53:14 GMT -5
Finish it! PLEASE! Lol.
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BaSkEtCaSe
Nimrod
I may be out of my mind at times but I'm fucking smart!
Posts: 100
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Post by BaSkEtCaSe on Jun 13, 2005 9:21:39 GMT -5
Oooo MORE NOW!!!...Oh yeah, you should know that I read your other story too! All in one day! Haha my mom was like get off the computer, youve been on there all day! But my argument was Noooo I need to see if Tim kills Tre.....Yeah after that she didn't bug me to get off of the computer...hehe...Back on topic - MORE!! NOW!!!Or.....I'll....Poke you with my jedi lightsaber and they burn!
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 10:03:48 GMT -5
Okay, I'm working on another part that I should be able to finish today. Plus I started this other story for no reason at all and I kind of like it. I'm going to try and think of a name for it, then I'm going to post it. I might just select some random song title like I did for this one. But then it'll be a challenge to see if I can post two stories at once. Hmmmm.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 11:07:00 GMT -5
Part Two
“Chocolate will help, I promise,” said Cory. Cory had been my best friend through most of high school, but she had then moved to Pennsylvania during her senior year. She was back now, married and with two children. In my little high school clique, we had voted her “Most Likely To Settle Down And Have A Family”, and I guess we had been right. I hadn’t spoken to her very much before the Tim incident, but since I had moved in with Tre, I found myself hanging out with her more and more. She and I sat in her kitchen. Her husband, Mark, was out with the kids. He had taken them to the park, which their 4-year-old son Greg had requested. I had always thought Greg was a stupid name for a child, but then again, I was dating a man whom had named his son Frankito. Cory had just handed me a large chocolate bar and made it sound as if the chocolate would make everything wrong with the world go away. I took a bite of the chocolate bar, chewed it up, and swallowed. “I don’t feel any better,” I whined. It wasn’t like I had actually expected the chocolate to help. “Having a baby isn’t that bad,” she sighed, placing her hand on my back. “In fact, it’s one of the best things anyone could ask for.” “You can say that because at leas the first time you got pregnant you were married!” I said, feeling the tears come back. I had been crying a lot since I got this news. “Do you plan on marrying Tre?” she asked. “What?” “Getting married. Do you want to get married to Tre?” “I guess,” I said. The strange part was that I hadn’t even really thought about it. What kind of idiot was I that those thoughts didn’t even occur to me. “You guess? What if he strolled right in here, dropped down on one knee and proposed to you?” she questioned, arching an eyebrow at me. “I would say, ‘You don’t want to marry me because by the time we’d get a wedding and everything arranged, I’d be a fat, pregnant lard.’” I looked at Cory, knowing this wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “You are such a pessimist,” she groaned. “I must insist on being a pessimist,” I sang. She just gave me a glare and I shut up. “You’re getting off topic,” she said. “You really need to think of what you’d really say. You never know how close in the future getting married might be.” “Then I’d be Tre’s third wife,” I sighed. “Do I want to get married to a man who obviously couldn’t handle marriage in the two times he’s experienced it? How do I know that this time it’ll be different?” “You don’t,” Cory shrugged. “You just hope it is.” “Hope. I don’t have much hope about anything anymore,” I muttered. “God, Vicky, you’re a lot more blessed than you think. You have a job, you’re dating a rich, funny guy who loves you, you managed to elude Tim back when he was Tre-hunting. Come on. What else do you need to realize how much God is taking care of you?” Cory was very religious. I wasn’t, but I prayed occasionally, but it wasn’t a regular thing. Kind of only when I really needed help. Cory, however, was always trying to force religion on me. “Whatever, Cory,” I whispered, then took a big bite out of the chocolate bar and slunk back into my chair.
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xxnimrod
American Idiot
Tr?'s Dominated Love Slave
Posts: 27
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Post by xxnimrod on Jun 13, 2005 12:38:01 GMT -5
Awesome! More. LOL.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 12:40:25 GMT -5
So demanding, jeez. Well, I'm working on the next part, but my mom is yelling at me about doing nothing but sitting on my computer. All the time. Since I got out of school that's all I've done. So I'll have two more parts up at some point today. I promise.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 13:01:03 GMT -5
Part Three
“Oh my God,” Cory whispered. “Hi, Cory,” I said into the phone. It was a matter of days since she and I had hung out in her kitchen; me stuffing my face with chocolate and her harping at me about faith and stuff. Now I was home alone, reading a book I had found in the bookstore next to the F.Y.E. where I worked titled, “Pregnancy: Knowing You’re Not Alone.” It seemed like the stupidest name. Of course I’m not alone. If I was, the entire human race would depend on me. But I had bought it anyway. “You will never guess what happened,” she said. “You’re probably right. I’ll never guess. Why don’t you just tell me?” “You’re no fun,” she said. “I was at the mall, right? And we had just walked out of Baby Gap, where we got these really cute overalls for Taylor, and then I saw Tre.” “You saw Tre? But he’s supposed to be recording.” “I know,” she said. My heart raced. I was anticipating the worst. He had been there with another woman or something. I waited for it. “But he was in this jewelry store. And he was looking at rings. I think this getting married thing is growing close.” “What?” It didn’t seem to make sense. “Maybe he was getting…I don’t know, but he’s probably not going to propose anytime soon.” Even as I said this, I wasn’t so sure. “Sure,” Cory said, not entirely convinced. “I don’t think he saw me, but I would brace myself for it if I were you.” “Whatever,” I mumbled, trying not to concentrate on it. What if she was right? What if he was going to propose to me? What would I say? “I don’t know,” Cory said, and I realized I had just been saying my thoughts out loud. “Do you love him?” “Yeah. Of course. But it’s not whether or not I love him. That’s not what’s confusing. What’s confusing is whether or not I’m ready to get married.” “I understand,” Cory said. “When Mark proposed the first time, we were 18 and I said no.” “Really? I thought you said yes right away.” “Nope,” she sighed. “When I said no, he started to cry. He almost went ballistic. He thought I didn’t love him. I told him that wasn’t the case. I told him I just wasn’t ready. And he waited. Then he proposed again. And that time I said yes, because I had the chance to think about it.” “Oh,” I said. I didn’t feel that Cory’s story applied to me. I mean, I was pregnant. I had two options; I could become an unwed mother or I could rush into a marriage I might not be ready for. I heard Tre’s car pull into the garage. “I have to go,” I said. “Tre’s home. Thanks for calling and telling me this,” I sighed. “It helped.” “No problem,” Cory said, then hung up. I put the phone down and sat back on the couch, cuddling up against a pillow and returning to my book. “When you’re pregnant, you often feel like no one understands you. Your husband/boyfriend tries to comfort you, but he couldn’t possibly understand. Your friends try to tell you that they know what you’re going through, but how could they possibly know? Don’t worry. You’re not alone,” the book read. I just shook my head. It was almost like this book was reading my mind, but it wasn’t really helping any. “Hey, babe,” Tre said as he came in. He placed his hand on my shoulder as he walked behind the couch and into the kitchen. “How was your day?” “Pretty good,” I said. “How about you? How’s the CD coming?” “The album’s looking pretty good. We might finish recording by the end of the month, if we’re lucky.” He came out of the kitchen, beer in hand. “It feels weird to be nearing the end of the recording process.” “I bet,” I said, wondering if he had recorded anything today. He had probably spent the entire day at the mall, picking out rings. But what if Cory was mistaken? What if it wasn’t Tre? Tre didn’t usually go to the mall. He was always afraid of getting attacked by a swarm of teenies or something. He sat down next to me. “What are you reading?” he asked. I showed him the cover and he kind of snorted at the title. “Stupid, I know,” I said. “But it’s actually kind of interesting. Reading through this, I’ve realized that I’ve been pretty lucky so far. No morning sickness, so severe cramps.” “Well, you’re only in your third month, right?” “Yeah,” I nodded. “Wow, three months. So I was pregnant for a little over two months without knowing it. I feel oblivious,” I laughed. Tre smiled. Talking about being pregnant seemed to make him a little uncomfortable, so I changed the subject. We went back to talking about the album. These days it seemed the only thing Tre seemed comfortable talking about with me was music, but I could understand why. At least, I sort of could. “And then Billie burst into this weird guitar solo. It’s crazy cause we haven’t had a guitar solo like that on our CDs since, well, since before I joined the band. But Mike thought it was pretty sweet so we tied it in with this one song. I think this album’s going to be a lot like the old stuff, which’ll hopefully bring back some old fans.” “Cool,” I nodded, watching him. And for some reason, all I could wonder was if my baby would look more like him or like me.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 13:18:11 GMT -5
Part Four
Okay, so Cory wasn’t kidding when she said Tre was going to propose sooner than I thought. We had just finished having dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant that you have to make reservations weeks in advance just to get a lousy seat there. I wondered how long Tre could’ve possibly been planning it, since we got this amazing table on a balcony, overlooking this garden and fountain with lots of fancy lights. We had eaten about four courses, and Tre kept making me laugh, which sort of took my mind of why were there. I knew he had brought me here for one of two reasons. Either he was planning on killing me and had decided to make the last few moments of my life happy ones, or he was going to propose. I was actually kind of hoping it was the first one. But, of course, it had been the second reason. He had gotten down on one knee, flashed the ring at me, and asked me to be his wife. We had just finished our dessert, and I felt so full that I thought I was going to throw up. That, plus the nervousness and stress placed on my by the whole ordeal, indeed caused me to throw up, narrowly missing Tre, who leapt back almost an entire three feet. The busboy, who appeared to be about 17, was mopping up the mess, while Tre sat at the table, laughing nervously and shaking his head. “Does the thought of marrying me really make you that sick?” he asked. “It’s not that,” I said. I felt like I was going to cry. “It’s just, I ate so much. Then I was so nervous. You know, don’t you?” “Yeah,” Tre nodded. “But what do you say? Do you want to get married?” He looked front the busboy mopping the floor to me. “Are you just proposing to me because I’m pregnant? I mean, are you just doing this to make an honest woman out of me?” I asked. “No. I love you. I was planning on proposing to you since before you even moved in. I just wasn’t sure when. Your, um, announcement caused me to kind of really start to think about when I was going to do it. It’s not just cause you’re pregnant. It’s because I love you.” He reached across the table and grabbed my hands, almost knocking over my glass of water while he did so. “Yes.” Wait, where did that come from? My mouth was way ahead of my brain. I had hardly even thought about this. I couldn’t just give him an answer that quickly. I was never one to make life-changing decisions all spontaneously like this. “Yes?” he repeated. “You’ll marry me?” “Yes,” I said again. Stop it, my brain told me. Just calm down for a second. Tell him you’ll sleep on it and give him a final response tomorrow. “I love you,” Tre said, getting up, stepping around the busboy and walking over to kiss me. “I love you, too, but you might not want to kiss me,” I said. “Why not?” he asked. “I just puked all over the place and I might have vomit breath,” I said. Leave it to me to ruin a moment such as this. Tre just laughed. “Mint?” he offered, digging through his pocket and producing a box of Altoids. “It would be much appreciated,” I laughed, grabbing the box from his hands and popping one in my mouth. As I sucked on the mint, Tre reached in his other pocket and produced the engagement ring he had shown me moments before. He slipped it onto my finger and leaned forward and kissed me. For some odd reason, all I could think about was the next time I went to visit my mother. Announcing to her that I was engaged and pregnant was going to take a lot of mental preparation.
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xxnimrod
American Idiot
Tr?'s Dominated Love Slave
Posts: 27
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Post by xxnimrod on Jun 13, 2005 15:26:11 GMT -5
*Claps* Amazing. Amazing, I tell you! Lmfao! <33 Sorry to rush you. Heh.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 17:51:37 GMT -5
Part Five
“So, what was it you wanted to tell me?” Mom asked. We were sitting at a picnic table at the community center of her neighborhood, where I told her that there were two things I needed to tell her. I felt like I was going to throw up again. My mom used to be really gorgeous. I mean, I saw pictures of her back when she was first dating my dad. She could’ve been a model. Really, she could’ve. But once my dad died, she started eating a lot and gained about 100 pounds in the first few months. Her doctors freaked out and told her she needed to lose weight, but she kept progressively getting larger. My mother, once skinny as a stick, had practically caused the picnic table to have a see-saw effect when she sat on it, almost tossing me into the air. “Um, look, Mom, this isn’t one of those share-the-news-and-leave,” type deals. This is really a big deal,” I said, staring at her. She seemed to be in some big rush to get out of there, even though she had been bugging me to come visit her for the past few months. Now that I was here, she seemed to want me to just get out of her hair. “What is it, already? I mean, you had to drag me out here to the park because you couldn’t tell me whatever this was back at the house. Are you dying or something?” She leaned on the table, shifting its weight a bit. It wasn’t a stable table as it was, and my mother really wasn’t helping it. “I’m not dying. But, Mom, you know that guy I’ve been dating for a while?” “The guy Tim was chasing? Yeah, what about him?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. I began to speak, but I could tell by her rapid change in expression that she knew what was coming. “He proposed, didn’t he?” “Yeah,” I nodded. My mother always seemed happy about everything that happened to me. I told her I was moving to Oakland, and she was ecstatic. I told her about my job at every recording studio I had ever had, she cried and hugged me. No matter what, she had always seemed happy. Except now. “Did you say yes?” she asked. “Yeah,” I sighed, watching her face and hoping for some sign of happiness. But there was nothing. Just shock. “I haven’t even met the boy, and you’re already planning a wedding? Besides, he’s a rock star. You can’t trust him as far as you can throw him. If I were you, I would’ve said no.” “But Mom, I love him. I really do.” “Love is just something someone made up a long time ago. It’s a fairytale that never really happens. I hope you realize that,” she said. “Bullshit!” I said. A few mothers who were at the park with their children looked over at me. “You just say that because Dad died.” Mom just blinked at me. I had said the wrong thing, but I didn’t care. “Don’t yell at me about something you know nothing about,” she said. “You get married, raise a family and then have your husband and son die, then you yell at me about this kind of thing.” “Oh God, Mom,” I said, crying now. “That’s not all the news I have for you.” “What? What else could you possibly have to say to me?” she asked, starting to stand up. As she did, the bench began to lift as well. “I’m pregnant,” I said. “What?” She didn’t hear me. “I’m pregnant,” I said louder. “Jesus,” she whispered, then blinked at me. “What’s happened to you, Victoria? I always thought you would grow up and marry some responsible man and have a big loving family. So now some rock star’s knocked you up and you’re getting married just because of that baby, aren’t you?” She pointed to my stomach. “What happened to me? Don’t you realize that you’ve been treating me like shit since I came to visit you? I fucking hate you.” My voice grew cold and sharp. I stood and walked away, ignoring her calling my name after me. I rushed into the parking lot and got in my car, practically sobbing as I drove back to Tre’s house.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 20:01:17 GMT -5
Part Six
I lay on the bed that Tre and I shared, watching the blades on the ceiling fan spin and thinking. I had never been in a fight like that with my mother. Sure, I had gotten overly pissed of at her thousands of times before, but I had never told her I hated her. But I felt like I really did. After all, she was trying to convince me that Tre didn’t love me, and I knew that wasn’t true. I knew he really did love me, and that was all that mattered to me. I wiped the tears from my eyes again, then looked around. I had all this; a nice, big house that I didn’t even have to pay for, a loving fiance, and soon I would have a baby. Cory was right, I was blessed, no matter how I looked at it. Even if my mom decided she was going to be a cold hearted bitch. I thought about it. I wouldn’t invite her to our wedding. She would just suck all the happiness out of it anyway. I wondered when Tre was coming home. The problem with them recording was that there was no set time for him to come home. I just sat there idly, waiting for him to rush in, see me crying and ask what’s wrong. That was the thing about Tre. No matter how bad the situation seemed, he always made me feel better. I grabbed and pillow and squeezed it tightly. The pillow smelled like Tre. I wrapped myself in it’s comfort and slowly fell asleep. It wasn’t long before I started dreaming. In the dream, I was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette, which is weird, since I never smoked. I was just sitting there, and in walked Tim. I didn’t even seem surprised to see him, like my dead ex-boyfriend just walked into my kitchen everyday. He sat next to me and told me that he missed me. I just nodded, but said nothing. Then he told me that the baby wasn’t really Tre’s, it was actually his. I said that wasn’t possible, but he told me that anything is possible. Then Tre came into the kitchen and stabbed Tim to death. And I just sat there, smoking my cigarette and watching, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. “Vicky, wake up.” Tre was shaking me out of my violent dream. “What happened?” he asked, blinking at me. “Nothing. I was just dreaming. Why? Was I talking or something?” “No, just shaking,” he said. “What was the dream about?” “I don’t remember,” I lied. “I told my mom today.” “That you’re pregnant?” he asked. I nodded. “And I told her that we’re engaged.” “And?” he questioned. He was sitting beside me on the bed now, still kind of sweaty from playing the drums. “It didn’t go so well,” I said. “She seemed really pissed off and tried to convince me that love is bullshit that doesn’t exist. Then she more or less called me a whore.” Tre’s eyes widened. “Vicky,” he whispered, hugging me. “I don’t care what your mom says. I love you.” “I love you, too,” I said. I realized how often we said that to each other. It seemed to be the only thing that mattered. We sat there in silence for a moment, just cuddling together on the bed. “I’m going to take a shower,” Tre said suddenly. “Okay,” I nodded. “Don’t worry about your mom, okay?” he said as he looked at me. “Okay,” I said, laughing a bit to show him that I was okay. He smiled, then stood and headed into the bathroom, closing the door partially behind him. I could still see part of the bathroom. I watched as his T-shirt flew towards the sink and kind of smiled. I heard the shower start up and leaned back into the pillows again. Tre had all these weird habits. They weren’t annoying. In fact, I found most of them cute. Like when he left each morning before I woke up, he would put this little green teddy bear on the bed in his spot. And before he took his shower, he would throw his T-shirt onto the other side of the bathroom and yell, “SCORE” if it landed in the sink. When he ate Pop Tarts he would start singing songs from 90’s boy bands, which always made me laugh. I didn’t understand most of these habits, and odds were, I never would, but I enjoyed them while I could. Cory had told me that once you get married, the cute things you noticed in them didn’t seem so cute anymore, mostly just annoying. I hoped that wasn’t the case. I liked listening to Tre singing “Bye Bye Bye” as he stuffed his face with strawberry filling.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 21:41:58 GMT -5
Part Seven
It was raining. Horrifically. The water was practically coming down in buckets. I sat in the bedroom, laying on the bed and watching the water trickle down the window. Billie, Mike and Tre were in the living room, drinking and talking about the CD. I could hear Billie’s voice booming throughout the house, but I couldn’t exactly make out what he was saying. We had started planning the wedding already. We had decided to get married at the church Romy attended that I had gone to occasionally while in college. The pastor seemed pretty nice, and it was nondenominational, so I figured it worked pretty well. We had decided that my dress would be the last thing we bought, since there was no telling how pregnant I would be by the time we got married. Tre had insisted he pay for everything, from my dress to the reception to the honeymoon. I told him he didn’t have to, but he insisted. Romy was going to be my maid of honor, while Cory and a few old friends of mine (Michelle, Carrie, Dawn) would be my bridesmaids. I had picked out the bridesmaids’ dressed. They were purple, cut low in the front and just dragging slightly behind them. They were gorgeous, and all my bridesmaids loved them. I called my mom to apologize and ask if she wanted to be part of the wedding. She said no. What kind of mother doesn’t want to be a part of her only daughter’s wedding? It drove me crazy that she wouldn’t, but I didn’t let her know that. I just said, “I’m sorry you feel that way” and hung up. I couldn’t stand my mother anymore. My stomach was hurting a little bit, so I was laying down. Not that I wasn’t thoroughly enjoying the conversation the guys were having (sarcasm), but I would’ve rather hung out in the bedroom anyway. I had been sitting there, trying not to think about how my stomach hurt, watching TV, when I suddenly thought about the baby. Is your stomach supposed to hurt this bad when you’re pregnant? The stomachache had been progressively getting worse since I had laid down. I got up and headed to the bathroom, feeling like I was going to throw up. Maybe it was just morning sickness or something, even though it was late evening. It wasn’t. But it wasn’t until I entered the bathroom that I discovered something. “Tre,” I said as I stepped out of the bedroom. He looked up, holding his beer. Billie glared at me, seeming kind of annoyed that I had interrupted whatever he was saying. “Yeah?” he asked. “Can you take me to the hospital?” “Why?” He jumped up and rushed over to me. “I’m spotting.” “Spotting what?” “Like, bleeding. You know, down there.” I looked at him. “Isn’t that supposed to happen?” he asked, totally clueless. I felt like I was going to cry. In fact, I could feel the tears burning at my eyes. “Not when you’re pregnant,” Mike said. “You should hurry up and get her to the hospital.” “Okay,” Tre said, his voice shaking. “Come on.” He put his arm around my shoulder and guided me out to the car, leaving Mike and Billie just sitting there in our living room.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 22:24:09 GMT -5
Part Eight
BILLIE’S POINT OF VIEW “Do you think she’s going to be okay?” I asked, sitting on Tre’s couch and watching through the front window as Tre’s SUV disappeared around a corner, heading for the hospital. “I think she’ll be fine. It’s the baby we have to worry about,” Mike said, taking a long drink of his beer. “You don’t think she’s going to have a miscarriage, do you?” I bit my lower lip and looked at Mike. Vicky had never been my favorite person, especially since she put Tre’s life in danger at one point, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I was a dad, I knew what it felt like to know that a child’s life was in your hands. This would be hard on Tre if she did have a miscarriage, but it would be even harder on her. “I don’t know, Billie. I really don’t.” He stared out the window at the rain.
TRE’S POINT OF VIEW I sat in the waiting room, waiting as Vicky had been rushed back through the same white doors I had been ushered through after she and I first met. My foot jiggled nervously. Yeah, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to having another kid, but I knew that once it happened, I would love it. It was the anticipation of having a child that was so awful. All you can think of is how needy they’re going to be. How you’re going to have to wake up at 3 in the morning when they cry or how you’re going to have to tote them all over the place. Those are the things you think about before. But once it happens, you hardly seem to notice all the trouble you go through to make your baby comfortable. “Please, let her be okay,” I whispered to myself, pressing my face into your hands. “You here for your wife?” asked a guy sitting next to me. “Huh?” I looked up at the guy. He was in his early 50’s, slightly balding and a bit overweight. “Your wife? Is that what you’re here for?” the man repeated. “My fiance.” “Oh,” the guy said as he nodded. “You seem awfully stressed. What’s she in here for?” “Spotting. She’s pregnant and she said she was spotting or something,” I said. The last thing I really wanted was to talk to this guy. “Oh. That happened with my wife and my third child. But it turned out fine. She was just born premature. How long’s she been pregnant?” “Four months,” I said. “Oh.” The guy had a bit of sympathy in his voice. “What?” I asked. “Well, when my wife had it, she was in her eighth month and they delivered the baby right away. This is obviously a different case. But these doctors work miracles. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.” “You’re not me,” I mumbled, not loud enough for him to hear. I just sat there, jiggling my foot and looking up anxiously every time the white doors opened. But the doctors and nurses that left never came over to me. They always walked past, to someone else. At some point they told the guy sitting next to me that his wife was fine and that she just had a concussion. I wondered what had happened, but didn’t ask. The guy eventually left. Finally, a doctor approached me. “Are you Mr. Wright?” he asked. I nodded. “I’m sorry to tell you this,” he began. And it was all downhill from there.
VICKY’S POINT OF VIEW I sat on the bed in the hospital room, glaring out the window at the rain. The rain, which had seemed so pretty before, seeming taunting and full of hatred. “Stupid rain,” I whispered. The tears streamed down my face, dripping onto the bed. Why was I here? Why couldn’t I go home? They had solved my problem, and the last thing I wanted was to be stuck in this fucking hospital any longer. “Vicky.” I looked up at the door. There was Tre, his eyes welling with tears as well. He was leaning on the doorframe, appearing almost afraid to enter. “What?” I asked. “The baby’s dead, Tre. I’m not pregnant anymore. Problem solved, right?” “Didn’t you want this baby?” he asked, slowly walking in and sitting on the bed next to me. “I don’t know. I really don’t. But you didn’t. So this makes things so fucking simple for you.” “What?” He blinked at me. “What makes you think I didn’t want the baby?” “It was totally obvious, Tre. When I told you…the look on your face. I mean, I felt like I was just another problem in your life. And I am. I’m just a big problem. If it’s not one thing it’s another. I mean, because of me, some guy almost killed you. Your house got broken into, and things I’m sure were important to you were broken. Then I move in with you and you’re suddenly paying the living expenses of two people. You won’t even let me pay rent. Then I tell you I’m pregnant. Just what you needed, another mouth to feed. And now here you are, in the hospital being dragged on this fucking emotional roller coaster. You don’t need me, Tre. Why did you even want me in the first place?” By this time I was sobbing, hardly even able to speak. “Don’t you ever talk about yourself that way.” I looked up at Tre. He was about to cry, I could tell. “You are amazing, and even though you think I don’t need you, I do. More than you could ever imagine.” “Oh God, now I feel even worse knowing you wanted the baby,” I said. “Don’t.” He hugged me. “It’s not your fault. Don’t feel like it’s your fault.” “Tre, the baby’s dead.” “I know,” he said. “But it’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be alright.” He loved to tell me things would be okay, but no matter how many times he said it, I still didn’t believe him.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 14, 2005 14:37:38 GMT -5
Part Nine
“Two months and counting until I get married,” I mumbled to myself as I looked at the calendar during breakfast the next week. It seemed like time was really flying. Since I wasn’t pregnant anymore, I had gone ahead and been fitted for a wedding dress, selecting carefully the one I wanted. Romy and Cory had gone with me, both of them crying when they saw me in the dress I had finally selected. But nothing seemed to make me happy anymore. I couldn’t help but think about what would’ve happened if the baby had been okay. I had dreamt about it. I could imagine me raising a baby girl, naming her Kara, and having her grow up to be kind of like me; a pain in the ass. As much as I had convinced myself that I didn’t want to have the baby, I did. And now that the opportunity was gone, I missed it. The doctor had told me that I could keep trying if I wanted a baby. I wasn’t sterile or anything. When he told us this, I just looked at Tre, who was nodding as the doctor spoke. He seemed to be taking it particularly hard, and I wasn’t quite sure why. Tre had two other kids to love and take care of. This, however, had been my one and only. And even though the doctor had told me I could keep trying, I still felt like that had been my last chance. I tried not to think about it as I carried my bowl of cereal to the living room. I turned on the TV and mumbled to myself as I watched the talk shows that were beginning. I consumed my cereal as quickly as possible, then headed into the bathroom. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I grabbed a box of black hair dye and pulled it open, reading the instructions. I needed change, I decided. And this was how I was going to do it. “Holy shit. You dyed your hair,” Tre said as he arrived home from recording. “Yup,” I said. I was flipping through “The Catcher In The Rye”, which I had found in Tre’s bookshelf and decided to read. “It looks great, but I have to admit, I’m going to miss the green.” “Too bad,” I laughed. “Tre,” I suddenly said, looking up at him. “Yeah?” “Do you want to have a baby?” “Right now?” he asked, sitting next to me. “Well, not right now. But, you know, after we get married.” I watched as he bit his lip and looked toward the ceiling, as if expecting an answer from God. “I guess,” he said. “I mean, I kind of figured that we’d worry about it when the time came.” “I guess we probably should wait until then to think about it,” I agreed. “Why? Do you want a baby?” he asked. I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was kind of getting used to the idea, you know? I was kind of preparing myself to be a mom.” “Speaking of moms,” Tre said and arched an eyebrow. He didn’t even have to finish his sentence. I knew what he was going to ask. He would bother me about calling my mother and telling her that I wasn’t pregnant. I kind of wanted to wait and see if she called just to find out what her little grandchild was named, in which case I would tell her that she didn’t have one. But Tre wanted me to call and tell her, so we might be able to make amends. “No. I didn’t call her,” I said, leaning back and burying my face in the book. “And I’m not going to.” “Come on,” he almost pleaded. “No.” “Do it.” “No.” “Please?” “No.” “For me?” “God,” I sighed, looking at the pathetic look he was giving me. “Fine. But not right now.” “Yes, right now.” “Tre.” I looked at him. He smiled a little bit, his intense blue eyes growing wide. It was the kind of expression that puppies give you when you go to a pet store. It was really sad. “Please?” he begged. “Fine,” I groaned, standing up and dropping the book on the couch. I headed into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I picked up the phone and dialed my mother’s number. “Hello?” she said gruffly into the phone. “Mom?” “Damn it, Vicky. I was taking a nap,” she snapped. “What the hell do you want from me, anyway?” “I just wanted to tell you something.” “Let me guess. You’re a crack whore or something. Just another thing going wrong in your fucking life, huh?” she growled. “I hate you, Mom. I don’t know why I even called you,” I said. And I wasn’t exaggerating this time. I really did hate her. I could feel the hatred filling me. “Well, you’ve got me on the phone. Just fucking tell me what’s wrong.” “You don’t even deserve to know,” I said. “Tell me, damn it,” she said. “I’m not pregnant.” “I figured so much,” she said. “You just told your boyfriend that so he’d hurry up and marry you, didn’t you?” “No. I was pregnant.” “What?” She sounded confused. Stupid bitch. “I’m not pregnant anymore.” “You had an abortion? You’re a fucking murderer. I thought you had more sense than that, Vicky. That dumbass boyfriend of your’s made you do it, didn’t he?” “I DIDN’T HAVE AN ABORTION, YOU COLD HEARTED BITCH!” I screamed. “JUST LET ME TALK FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND AND I’LL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED!” There was silence for a moment. “Fine, then,” she said. “Tell me.” I was crying too hard to talk. I let a few exasperated sobs into the phone before saying, “I had a miscarriage.” “Oh, Vicky,” my mother said, her voice consoling and calm for the first time since I’d told her I was getting married. I just dropped the phone into the cradle, ignoring her calling my name. I just threw myself onto the bed, coughed loudly, and cried.
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