I tapped my fingers on the table, impatiently. I had been waiting in the office for at least two hours. Today was my doctor's appointment. I had been feeling sick, blah, blah. Dougie had scheduled the appointment for me, seeing as that a few days ago, I could barely move without puking. As of the moment, I felt fine. Dougie had given me some kind of medicine. Said that it was a cure for everything in the world, his grandmother had made. He was a good friend.
The doctor finally came in the room. He had a look of surprise on his face. After a few questions, he spilled the beans. Shocked, I stormed out of the hospital, not bothering to check out. The look on the nurse's face said it all. Pity. I scowled. Pulling out my cell phone, I texted Dougie.
'Come to my house. Eight o'clock.' I continued walking, to my car. I was cursed with this... This thing. A monstrosity.
"Dougie, you've been acting weird all night. And you keep messing up. What's wrong?" I looked up, to my best mate. Danny, and shook my head. Oh, something was wrong. I just wasn't going to tell Danny. I had persuaded her to get checked out, even though I already knew what was wrong. Her reaction would be bad, I knew it. After all, I had known her for years. I knew her better than she knew herself. It was her own proclaiment. I was her closest, and possibly, only friend. Aside from the guys, but she still didn't talk to them much.
"Look, mate, do you mind if I head off? Rosie called earlier. Said to come over when she got home. She should be home by now." I didn't meet his gaze. He nodded. Immediately, I jumped up, grabbing my things. Rosalina's house was just down the street, so it'd be about a minute, before I reached her. Lucky me, she was home. She said she'd be home, after all. It was a little after eight.
I barged inside the house. Rosalina trusted me, so I was free to go over whenever I wanted. I even had my own keys to the house. I could hear her pacings. Wincing, I made my way up the stairs. She had just slammed the door to the bathroom. The faint clattering of her jacket hitting the ground... Another few footsteps. Then she apparently knocked a few more things over. I sighed, and walked down the hall, as slowly as I possibly could. When I opened the door, she was leaning over the bathtub, flipping the water on. She looked up at me, the expression of her face furious. I took a seat on the chair next to the tub. We put it there, a while ago. We knew that I'd be over quite a bit.
"You know, I think we should put a chair in here. I'm always standing, and my legs hurt." I said to Rosalina, as she sat in the tub. Josh had hit her. Again. She'd never tell the police, no matter how much I begged her. She was blind, to the hurt he was putting her through. Seeing her hurt... Well, it sparked a new fury inside me. Danny, Tom, and Harry all had no idea. They just thought she was insanely clumsy. Lies. Lies through Rosalina's clenched teeth.
Mine too, unfortunately. She ddn't want me to tell them. Or anyone, for that matter. It was merely the unspoken rule between us. She didn't tell, and I wouldn't either. Not unless he did something rash. Then I'd spill all the beans. Tell everyone, and I wouldn't care about the consequences. As long as my Rosie was safe.
This was a tradition. Anytime she felt stressed, or something had happened, she'd get the tub filled up. If she couldn't do that without crying, I'd do it myself, and get her into the tub. Usually, I didn't know what had happened. Of course, I was the only one who knew, at least up until the doctor's appointment. She found out today. And I really was scared of her reaction. At least, the reaction that would come, once her anger faded. She was ripping her coat, scarf, and mittens off. She barely made it to her hat, before a choked up sob escaped her throat.
I tried not to cry with her. Instead, I got to my knees, crawling over to her. I enveloped her in a hug, carefully taking her hat off. Then off came her actual clothes. Carefully, shirt up, follwed by the cami. Then the pants, underwear, and bra. No, I wasn't going to do anything sexually-related to her. Why the hell would I do that? No. I was helping her into the bath. It seemed that only two things calmed her down. Me, and taking a bath. I was accustomed to it, as was Rosalina.
Lifting her into the tub, I did something that I only rarely did. I stripped off my clothes, down to my boxers, and joined her in the tub. She cuddled up to me, her back resting on my chest and stomach. If only I was gay. This would be a lot easier. I stroked her strawberry blonde hair, humming. After a few more rounds of tears, she became calm enough to speak. Hiccups interrupted her speech, every once in a while. She looked so helpless... So innocent. And beautiful.
"Dougie... He... He... I have his baby." As she talked about 'he,' she was referring to her ex-boyfriend. Josh. The damned bastard would pay. He had hit her too many times. The first time he hit her... Was one too many. Rosalina did not deserve that shit. And being forced to have sex with him? She was merely seventeen. Her parents had left. Her aunt, had hosted her for a while. Then, she finally gave Rosalina money to provide for herself. She was checked up on, every once in a while. But most of the time, I was all she had.
"I-I can't... I can't have this baby." So she wanted an abortion. She knew I was against abortion. I gently rubbed her stomach. She couldn't get rid of this baby. It might have been Josh's, but it was hers, too. More so hers, than it was his. More so mine, than it was his. I had no involvement in the... creation of the baby, but that didn't mean that I wasn't going to help. I wasn't going to leave my friend in the dust like Josh had.
"Rosie... You know that you can't kill this baby... I'll help you." I mumbled, my voice muffled by her hair. She let out a shaky breath. I moved my hand down to her stomach, trailing my finger up and down it. It'd swell up soon. Her face would have a glowing radiation. Like my mom had, when she was pregnant with my younger sister. I had only been a few years old, two or three years shy of ten, but I remembered that well. Always smiling, not counting the morning sickness. I had flipped out, when she puked every morning. I had a phobia of vomit. I didn't need to see it every morning for nine months. Make that, ten months. Jazzie had been four weeks late. A month. Hopefully, Rosalina's baby would be healthy.
"I-I... You will...?" She asked, hesitantly. I nodded, confidently, yet still, the way I was. Thoughfully, if it was possible to nod, so confidently, while thinking. I continued whispering encouraging words in her ear. I'd never leave her side. Not throughout the entire pregnancy. Not even through the puking. Not through the actual birth. I'd be the second one to hold the baby, next to Rosalina. She was going to be a mother, at such a raw age. Seventeen. I was nineteen, nearing the age of twenty. She'd be eighteen, within a month.
"Rosie, you'll be the perfect mother." She looked up. I could see the tears in her eyes, beginning to disappear. Good. I hated seeing her cry, unless she was crying from laughter. The way she doubled over, clutching her stomach. ANd she'd laugh, for a few moments, until she couldn't handle it anymore. Or when I tickled her. She was overly ticklish.
"Can you be the perf-perfect father?" She asked, shaking slightly. The bathwater was beginning to get cold. I nodded, picking her up, under the arms. Lifting her out of the tub, I wrapped a towel around her. I was going to be the best father I could possibly be. I dried her off a bit, before fastening the towel around her tightly. Then I maneuvered her to her bedroom, still sopping wet. After getting her into some pyjamas, I laid her on the bed. Thankfully, I had left a few of my clothes here. So, I changed into a different pair of boxers, and lied down next to her, my arm draping over her waist.
"Don't worry, Rosie. I'll be right here with you, through everything." I mumbled into her ear, holding her close. We may have not been a couple, but I was determined to be the father of this baby. I'd nurture him or her, like a real father would. Not like my father. Not like anyone else I knew. Better. So much better.
You want to know why? The reason for all this determination... Why I want to be the father. Why I'm going to stay here, when not even the biological father would? Because I love her. And I have loved her, ever since the first second we met. I always will. Even during her time, as a young mommy. Up until we die. But then, I think I'll love her, even after we both pass away.
For now, it'd only come off as a slight affection, and friendship. I'd tell her someday. After the baby was born. Or before. Maybe... After her birthday. Or on her birthday. She'd stand on the beach with me. I'd take her into my arms, and whisper a few words. Then, I'd tell her. And hopefully, she'd return the feelings.
Semi-based on Where I Stood, by Missy Higgins. It was the song that I had the most drive to write this in.