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So, here is chapter five. Hope you enjoy!

I still don't own aything.

Fifth month

"Do you think the baby notices the sunshine?"

"I have no idea."

Coop is lying topless, like her parents made her, next to me at the pool of her parents. They are in Europe for a few weeks and she's the house sitter. The fridge is fully stuffed.

Some girls have all the luck.

"I'm just saying, I don't know if it thinks that we have night all day long or it notices the difference."

"Sum, please. I'd like to read on."

"You're not reading. You're just looking at the pictures."

"Sum, please..."

She turns her luxury-body around. She looks like a model out of the high-style magazine in which she's reading.

I'm topless too and let the sun shine onto my belly. Nobody would think that I'm a model. Pregnant or not. I'm just to short.

"Maybe it's to bright in there. Sun's getting more aggressive every day... and baby's have a really sensitive skin. Would you give me the sunblock?"

"Grumble, grumble..."

"That's only factor twenty. Give me the other one!"

Coops grumble gets louder as she hands me the 65.

I put it on and set my Gucci-sunglasses on my belly where I assume Honeys head and keep on browsing through my Parenting magazine.

"Oh my god!"

I draw up on my deck-chair within less then a second and spill up Coop's cocktail.

That can't be true.

"I need contraception, like right now!"

"Sum, may I remind you: The damage is already done. You're pregnant... you should've thought about it earlier. Fuck. I need a new drink."

"I'm going in, in a moment. I'll get you your drink but now listen. I need condoms. The pill during pregnancy. Anything!"

"You've lost it completely."

"Look here!"

I show her an article out of my magazine. Coop looks incurious at a women with a round belly.

"She's pregnant... So what?"

"She's having two."

"That happened before..."

"Yeah, but it says she was pregnant five months along when it happened again... it's some kind of medical wonder... she was ovulating... Oh God."

I'm counting'. That could take a while.

"That women has been pregnant for fourteen months! Fourteen months! I need condoms right away!"

Coop looks at me.

"There you go."

She gives me a baseball cab.

"What's that?"

"A diaphragm for giants."

Her humor is sometimes a little bit hard to understand.

"I'm serious!"

"Me too. Put that on. You've got a sunstroke."

"I don't... But just imagine that! I could get pregnant again."

Coop gets up. She has the hottest boobs I've ever seen. And they will stay that way. Mine will need a refurbishment after breastfeeding.

"Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. I'm sick of it! All you can talk about these days are babies, diapers and belly's. There are other things going on beside you having a baby. And they don't get less important just because your pregnant. Pull yourself up!"

With that she gets up and jumps into the pool. I'm still starring at her.

What the fuck?

On my way home I almost ram a women with a buggy. She doesn't has to walk in the middle of the street though. Typical case of over-mother. Those women think "I am a mother - so I am". Maybe Coop is right and I'm turning into one of those.

If I think about it: When I was single or part of a DINK (double income no kids) I never went out with women who had kids. Those women couldn't drink anything and had to be home by ten because the babysitter wanted to go out herself. Maybe it's time for me to expand my circle of friends.

The only problem: I don't know any mothers.

Maybe the cleaning lady out of Cohen's office. She's Mexican, around fifty and has five grown-up sons.

Or I could drive against every women with a buggy I meet on my way home...

Five days later I'm sitting in the living room of a mansion in Beverly Hills.

Across from Holly. To be exact: Holly and her three kids Heather (2), Hope (5) and Heath (8), who do creative stuff a few feet away.

Holly and me went to high school together. Before Ryan showed up and I fell for Cohen her, me and Coop were inseparably.

On my hunt for mothers(to-be) she came into my mind like rescuing angel.

We didn't have contact for ages and to be honest I could hardly remember her face. But I'm hell-bent to find a friend who lets me in on the secrets of motherhood.

I'm leaning back in the white cushions (see, white and three kids do work out).

In front of me a cup of decaf Latte and a bunch of mini-muffins.

Everything should stay the way it is. For the first time I get that sentence.

Holly was delighted to see me again and she fell into cries of joy when I told her I was pregnant.

"My life is really filled out since I have children."

I nod and get myself another mini-muffin. I eat for two after all.

"You gonna be so happy believe me. Are you two married anyway?"

I nod again. You don't talk with your mouth full. She leans near me.

"Good. Very good. You know, dear if men realize that babies are noisy their will for bonding minimizes right away."

I nod again and reach out for another muffin.

"I have a wonderful life. A huge mansion, two nannies, a cleaning lady and a lot of time for facials, golf and riding. Having kids is just wonderful."

I keep on nodding for the next hour till a man in a very expensive business-suit comes in. Followed by a woman with a not less expensive womans-suit that's a lot tighter.

"Hi Honey."

"Hi Honey."

He gets a peck on the cheek and the woman a warm smile.

"May I introduce you: That's Summer, a friend from high school. Summer that's Ronald my husband. And that's his lover Jazmin."

And while I'm worrying about my ears the two sit down next to us, drink their Gin Tonics and talk about the next big charity event.

When Holly sees me to the door she puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me close.

"See marriage brings a lot of pros. Ronald divorcing me would ruin him. And this way we live together in a nice house and go on vacation once a year with the kids."

I'm already in the car as Holly leans in through the opened door.

"I'm not so innocent myself. You have to come by next Wednesday to meet my salsa-teacher Enrique. It's really worthwhile. All my friends think so."

Coop! I miss you! I love you! I wanna be your friend even if I pop out five other brats. I'm never gonna mention my condition to you again. Babies? What's that?

When Cohen comes home at night he finds me crying on the couch.

"Where were you?"

"In the office..."

He's about to go on, when he sees the tissues and my red eyes.

"Oh my God! Is it the baby?"

I'm shaking my head and he sights relieved.

"But why are you acting like Marissa?"

"I'm not - sniff – acting like Marissa."

"You do too."

"You're cheating on me."

"How did you come up with that?"

"Admit it!"

"Summer, we had a really rough meeting today and I'm fucking tired. So could you please cut that crap?"

I howl.

"But you will cheat on me!"

"Summer your hormones are going crazy."

"Yours will too! When we don't have sex anymore you will hire a sexy assistant and her skirts will get shorter every time."

Cohen gives me another tissue and does the only right thing. He puts me and Honey into the hot-tub and joins us with a cool beer. We have quite a nice night after that.

But he'll get problems if he hires an assistant with a short skirt.

More than sixty pounds. I heard of a safe source (whispering at my doctors office) that a woman put on more than sixty pounds during her pregnancy. Think about that! That is more that the half of my weight before the pregnancy. That means I'd double my half within nine months.

"You're working on a big headline?"

I'm nodding and mumble something like of course.

Bull smiles and sets a cup of chicken soup down in front of me. I hate chicken soup. In the meantime I feel sick (even if I don't get sick cos of the pregnancy) from the pure thought of chicken soup. I even get sick if I'm looking at a feather. Cos that makes me think about chicken and that makes me think about chicken soup. And I have absolutely no idea how to come out of that chicken soup pool.

I don't know what to do. I don't want to be rude. It's well-meant by Bull. But a half liter of chicken soup every day, that's more than potted plant in my office can take.

Its blades are getting all yellow already.

Bull goes happily his way. Not without touching my belly.

"Brings luck - say the Italians."

I don't think he ever touched a woman that harmless.

The phone rings.

"Editorial office Famous. What can I do for you?"

Silence.

"Hello?"

I'm about to hang up as I hear a husky male voice.

"Are you alone?"

I'm leaning back in my chair. This should be interesting. I hadn't had a dirty call in quite a while. Let's see what that guy brings on. I start looking for my pipe. It would get every eardrum to the climax.

"Yes... why?"

"Great... can you talk?"

"Fluent... since my second year of life."

"Fantastic... I have a huge thing for you."

There we go...

"Are you interested?"

"I'm always interested in the huge things..."

"Great... wonderful"

He starts to breathe heavily.

"Something would come out for you too."

"Oh really?"

"But this has to stay between us... nobody can know. How about we meet tonight in the Hilton-Hotel?"

"Both of us?"

"Yes... the others can come to us later."

"The others... interesting."

I put the pipe into my mouth.

"Of course we can talk about every position ... I'm very flexible at that point..."

Okay that's it!

I take a deep breath and...

Triiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.

At the other end of the line I hear a vague:

"The editorial office of Vogue is looking for a..."

I swallow the pipe. Then I spit it out. Unerring on the back of Bernie's head. I take shelter before Bernie sees me. He's so vengeful.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

Silence.

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Hello?"

There it goes! The chance of a lifetime. Buried by a pipe. Typical! I just hope my baby doesn't inherit that.

"Holy shit what was that?"

A thin voice comes out of the phone.

"I don't know some trouble in the line..."

"Well like I said. The editorial office of Newsletter is looking for a editor. And we think you would be perfect for the job."

Vogue wants me. Unbelievable. They want me. Me!

I'm so great.

I'm fantastic.

I'm terrific.

I'm the best.

I'm the right one.

I'm pregnant.

Shit!

I didn't tell him that I'm pregnant. I have a interview next week. Maybe they wanna hire a pregnant women. Sure. For a sixty hour job in which you have to travel all the time. Who knows? I've seen horses throw up. (No I didn't but what the hell.) Nothing can make me feel bad today. Cos they want me! Me!

BABY GAP - the mecca of all hip mothers(to-be). I usual buy pajamas and lingerie here but today I'm going upstairs. I want to be the first one to by something for my little Honey.

This heaven you can find in the middle of South-Coast-Plaza. They've got tiny denim- and leather jackets. Sweet little socks with I love you on them. Caps with bears-ears. This really is heaven.

I leave the store with two big bags and a overdrawn account. I don't care. My first baby spending spree and I spend more then I usual do with my favorite designer. But I got a whole baby-equipment now. Including a sweet little denim-jacket. Yeees!

I spend the rest of the day with wallpapering our bedroom with articles about famous, successful, mothers:

Madonna at the top, Susan Sarandon, Cher, Anne Leibowitz (with 56! I guess she has got enough hormones for a pigsty in her blood), Hilary Clinton, Cindy Crawford and even Liv Hurley that --- again - none of my business.

Those women have all a glorious career and are mothers. A little voice in my head tells me that all that women already had a career and nannies before they got knocked up. But I can ignore that little voice today.

Cohen thinks my new wall-decoration looks a the room of a teenager not like motivation for a prospective journalist. I take all of it, under the threat of a sex-strike, of the wall and get myself a album where I can put that stuff in.

Shit. What am I gonna do? My panties are twitching. I should have put on my little black thong like Cohen suggested. That thing looks good and is good luck. But five month along are five months along.

I got the most important job interview of my career in a half an hour and I'm gonna be late cos I have to drive through the entire city. And now that stupid thing twitches.

I already almost lost it yesterday when I was looking for an outfit which conceals a fifth month belly without making me look like a construction worker. A empire-minidress for three hundred dollar did that. I just forgot to get super size panties with it.

I guess the trucker who delivers food to the groceries store had nice pelvic sightseeing when I tried to pull of my pantie in the car under a lot of weird wrench.

With my luck I will have a cystitis in no time. In college I felt very erotic to go out without a pantie on. Right now I just feel fucking cold.

And I get a lot colder when I see who's coming at me. Three guys and a woman! Help! I thought that's just a job interview!

It doesn't goes so well around here. Dr. Elizabeth Helmsman (that's her actual name) grills me right away.

I start to sweat and slip around on my uncomfortable chair. After a while all I can hear is the noise of my heartbeat. This isn't good. Why am I nervous? I'm confident usually. But right now I could really need Valium. I couldn't take it because of the baby, but it really would help.

So I just do the oldest trick against stage-fright.

I imagine them in their underwear.

I screwed up. The thought of those people in underwear while I sit there with nothing under my skirt... I just fell into hysterical laugh that wouldn't stop for at least five minutes.

The rest of the interview just sunk in some kind of fog.

A voice reaches wakes me up like a foghorn.

"Fantastic really! Fantastic!"

One of the guys parks in the same direction as I do.

I'm still a little bit dizzy.

"I was good?"

"You were sensational - do laugh at the point when the chief editor told that unbelievable boring story about her first job. No one of the applicants did that. I'm sure you got the job. I'll call you as soon as possible."

We're standing in front of my car as a black something falls out of my purse during my search for the keys. I can't pend down. The skirt is short and there's nothing under it.

But the guy, all gentleman bends down and hands me my favorite black thong.

Thank you!

Stretch marks. Stretch marks.

I'm standing in front of the mirror, inspecting myself. Those will become stretch marks. There and there and there.

Cohen showers and sings.

Well his weight didn't change. Although he said he put on two pounds. Solidarity. But those are not there because of solidarity. No. He just ate a lot of the food my Granny brought.

I on the other side get fatter every day. That's why I grease and massage myself like possessed.

Cohen comes out of the shower.

"Stretch marks", I mumble.

No reaction. He starts to brush his teeth.

"Stretch marks", this time I say it a little bit louder.

Again no reaction.

"Streeeetch maaaarks!"

He heard me this time, but I'm not sure he understood me.

Men don't know what cellulites is (in doubt, some weird, ugly abdominal thing), so how are they supposed to know stretch marks? The big sister of cellulites...

"What's that?" He spits out some toothpaste.

"There and there and there." I point at my TA's (my troubled areas).

"There are those ugly things that develop through the expansion of the skin. It's impossible to get rid of them. They only get brighter."

"I don't see anything."

Typical!

"Here look! That thin line. It looks red."

He comes closer.

"Honestly Sum... I don't see any red there, nor black or white."

I sight. Okay not stretch marks yet, but I'll have them soon enough. On the other side, just because Cohen can't see them doesn't mean it's not there.

Coop needs to take a look at that. Shit. Impossible. She made me promise not to talk about the "you know", anymore.

"If you say so." You've got to be diplomatic sometimes. So I start to put on the lotion while Cohen looks at all the tubes and cans in the bathroom.

He takes one into his hand and looks at it, just to drop it with a rattle.

It did probably bite. It's only for pregnant women anyway.

"Forty-eight bucks?"

Before I can stop him he takes another one.

"Sixty-four! Have you gone mad?"

"What can I do about the price policies of those companies?"

I know I can only convince him with logical arguments.

He grabs one can after the other.

"Forty-six, seventy-eight, EIGHTY-NINE, fifteen - well that was a cheap one...

He sits down on the edge of the hot-tub very slowly.

"You ruined me... oath of disclosure... marshal..."

"You want me to look like before after the pregnancy don't you?"

"Yes. But not if it bankrupts us."

"Beauty is expensive."

"Your beautiful without that crab!"

Oh my sweet dewy-eyed darling. He has no idea what I put on for the last few years. Men only see the result. I don't think they even wanna know how it's done.

Cohen gesticulates wildly with his arms.

"All of this stuff has to go! It's just to expensive. We have to save some money."

"Are you mental?"

"Summer you're not bringing in anything for quite a while, and my company is still in expansion."

I'm sulking.

"Summer, please don't act like a little girl. There are millions of women in this world that haven't even seen a tub of lotion in their entire life. They'd feed there babies for a month with that stuff you're rubbing onto your backside."

I screw up my mouth. I know he's right. BUT: If we would sell Cohen's comics on ebay we could buy a whole African village. Ha!

"I don't care! I rub on as much as I want to!"

I cross my arms in front of my full boobs and stick out my belly controversial.

"You'll see. You'll life a wonderful live without that crap. Women did it for centuries!"

With that words he throws one of my tubes out of the opened window.

Boom!

I gotta say I'm surprised I smashed him on the floor with only one slap. Well I put on four pounds already... no wonder. I've become a heavy weight.

I got Cohen an ice bag immediately and apologies ed like a hundred times.

That was a rage blackout combined with crazy hormones. The Summer I know would never hit him.

Not on the nose at least...

In Texas a women killed her husband during pregnancy and was acquitted. Temporary insanity.

So Cohen really was favored by fortune. Even if he doesn't see it that way right now.

We really made up after he telling me I could have all the cosmetic I want and me promising him a new flat-TV of our joint money. (I made the better deal, but don't tell him!)

When we lay in bed together later I still feel guilty. I just hope I'll never ever slap my baby. And if I do I wanna be struck by lighting.

I kiss Cohen on his bruised nose. He laughs. Suddenly he all thinks the whole thing really funny. I hit the lights and cuddle closer to him till I get up fast.

"Oh my god! What's going on? Something isn't right. Something flutters ... I need to go to the hospital... my baby... my poor baby..."

Cohen smirks, well I think he does. It's dark so I can't really tell.

"Summer everything is all right. It's just the baby kicking... You've been waiting for this for months... Mom told you how it would feel. Don't you remember?"

Really it's kicking. I just fell in love with Cohen all over again. It feels amazing. Like a butterfly inside of me. And then it stops yet again.

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