Special thanks to Liz, who not only beta-s by gives awesome story advice.
I sat waiting at the rickety kitchen table for Tim.
I heard him get up a few minutes ago; he'd be out soon. I made him coffee and sat there across from the cup waiting for him.
Then his door creaked open, and my tough older brother came out yawning.
"'Morning, girlie."
"Hey Tim."
"Hey, coffee? Thanks."
"No problem…I have to tell you something." His face changed immediately; he looked at me apprehensively before taking the seat in front of his mug.
"What's up, girlie?" He's been using that nick name for me for as long as I can remember.
I had to say it before I lost the power to. It was like jumping into a cold pool; you're so nervous, and you know it will sting upon impact, but after a few minutes, you get used to it and it feels warm. I whispered, barely audible, "I'm pregnant."
He stared at me. He was angry. Worse than I've ever seen him.
"Not again, Angela." I hated when he used my real name; it's the same as if he said he hated me.
"There never really was a first time, Tim."
"Well it was as good enough as though there were a first time, Angela, for what it did to our reputation!" He stood up at this point and paced over the same five feet.
"Tim, I'm sorry, its just-"
"Who is it, Angela? Who the hell is it?"
He couldn't know. The first thing he would do was run over to the Curtis's and tell him the second Ponyboy came home he was marrying me. He would ruin everything, everything for Ponyboy.
"I…I don't know."
"You don't know, Angela? What the fuck is wrong with you, how do you not know?" He was yelling now, I sat in the same chair, trying to sink into myself.
"Tim, please, I'm sorry…"
"Sorry's not good enough this time." He ended his pacing and walked to the door. "Be out by the time I get home tonight."
He slammed the door behind him.
I packed what little belongings I could carry into a black bag, and made my way down the apartment stairs.
I didn't know where to go. Curly was probably sleeping at his girlfriend's house, but I knew even if I went to him he would side with Tim. Even at nineteen, he's still the little boy who idolizes his big brother.
I didn't really have any friends to go to. I had people throughout high school that I hung out with; drank with, got high with, slept with, but never really friends.
I wandered around until I got to tired and sat on the bench for the bus. I should have been scared, or worried, or at least anxious; but I was just tired.
He was coming home tomorrow.
Less the twenty-four hours from now. I wish I could just run away for the next few weeks, come back when I knew he and the threat that came with him were both gone. The way those eyes could just puncture my every thought, intercept them, and change them.
Sometimes I think he knows. He could always sense me; sense what I wanted, needed, hated, craved.
But I know he doesn't. If he did, he would never let me go on like this.
God, I hope he hates me. Hates me enough to turn and walk the other way when he sees me, to never come close enough to show me those eyes. To have so much dislike for me that he never wanted to see me again, wish I had never existed, that he had never met me.
But, God, I hope he still loves me.
Twelve hours later, I had just finished cleaning the tables after the last customer had left. My entire body ached, and all I wanted was a nice bed to climb into. I still hadn't even thought of where I was going to sleep tonight, but was forced to when the owner locked the door, said good night, and walked to his car.A train whistled in the background.
The train station was only a mile or so away; people who had connecting trains often slept in the station waiting for the morning.
If I thought about it too much, I would decide against it. And I was too tired to think.
After a long walk, I reached the bright lights of the station. It was nearly empty, just a few homeless people sleeping on benches. I didn't want to be one of them. But I don't have much of a choice.
I picked a bench off in the corner, hopefully where no one could see me easily. I hovered in the corner, casting a weary eye over everyone in the station. I was nervous, but my exhaustion took over within minutes.
My body ached even worse, my head pounded and my back felt like it had sparks shooting off my spine.
I sat up, and tried to brush my hair with my fingers.
I should have heard the footsteps. They were right in front of me, I should have sensed him.
But I didn't. I had no idea anyone was there until I heard it.
"Angel?"
