Thank you so much for you reviews. As promised - here's the eighth chapter! I hope you like it!
I don't own anything!
Eighth month
It worked once so why don't try it again.
I just misplaced the interview into the lighthouse. It's worth a shot. I told them something about unbent atmosphere and stuff...
And for emergencies I've got a cup hidden under the table.
"Would you like to have kids one day?", Dr. Helmsman is smiling at me.
I know this question is illegal, but if you other thirty, they'll just ask it.
"Kids? Me?"
"Yes."
Wacky question... if I say 'yes', she'll think I get pregnant after one months of working and if I answer 'no', she'll think I'm a unfeeling bitch.
"Maybe. You know ...kids are something wonderful ... but I'm still young... and the general tendency are elder mothers... they just don't fit into my career management right now."
Unfortunately that last sentences is so true. If I'm honest it'd never fit. That's the reason most women defer it as long as possible. It never fits, unless you make it fit.
Oh what wisdom. And that from me, who hides her belly under the table.
Dr. Helmsman disappears a half an hour later together with her assistant.
But my chances are good... her assistant told me that while flirting with me.
I tell you that place is magic!
Ouch.
I just walked right against a bottle of water. It falls down noisy. It's almost midnight and my eyes are squares. I've been watching television the whole day. I know the TV-program inside out.
I dread to think of sleep. I wake up every half an hour. Wet nurse-sleep. It's supposed to prepare you for the time after giving birth.
Cohen, who was already asleep, put the light on.
Just to see me jumping on one leg (the little toe hurts really bad) and covering my body with the sheets.
"Summer, what are you doing?"
He rolls over, bends and annuls the bottle. A very easy physical action - I'm not able to anymore.
"Are you alright?"
He looks concerned.
"Yeah. I gotta. Now turn off the lights! I'm just looking for my pj's-tent."
"Summer don't you think you hysteric?"
"Easy for you to say. You're not a ton."
"I still find you ... err... attractive."
I'm rumbling around. Where are those damn pajamas? I just got it out of a store for men oversize.
"You just say that..."
"No, it's true! Now let me put on the lights."
"Touch the switch and you're gone."
"But... "
"Cohen!"
He gives up. He won't risk another rage black out.
So, he finds me "errr, attractive". Uh huh. In former times he thought I was beautiful. At least he told me from time to time. But who likes a pot-bellied pig that walks on two legs? Besides George Clooney (Sebastian) and maybe a pot-bellied boar.
Since the sixth month of my pregnancy I'm looking into the world with other eyes. How do heavy-weighting couples have sex. It's hard enough if just one is fat like a ton.
Well Cohen and I solved the problem very elegant. We don't have sex at all. Since weeks. I just don't want anymore. It's not very sexy, if we do it in spoon style and the little one is kicking at the front.
We cuddle. It's nice, too.
The only question:
How long is a man able to survive without sex?
Or rather Cohen?
A Three weeks?
B Three days?
C Three seconds?
And: how long can I?
I guess if men are honest and women are not completely naive, answer C wins.
But everything will be different when I had the baby. We will be used to having no sex so we won't even notice.
With that calming thought, I fall asleep.
"Can't you talk about anything else? I thought we agreed that we don't talk about your pregnancy. God I swear you already one of this stupid twerps who can't talk about anything beside babies, diapers and contractions. Don't you realize that?"
I can't believe she just said that. We only used to say that about the others in the past.
Coop and I take a walk at the beach.
Okay it's true. I've been talking about contractions for the last ten minutes (there was already a small contraction on the monitor, but that was just something called Braxton-Hicks-contraction).
But all Coop was talking about were the new textures of next season. It seams like we can't find a combined topic.
"Being pregnant is just a big subject. There isn't much stuff for anything else."
Coop's glancing at my belly.
"Seems so. Maybe, once you have the baby, all you're able to do is baby talk."
I stop and look at her.
"Did you ever notice that all you talk about is your job? It's always the same, too."
"At least there's something going on in my life?"
"Really! What's that? All the guys your screwing are absolutely replaceable. Maybe you're just jealous."
Her mouth drops.
For a second the world stands still.
Coop and I are fighting. Seriously. Suddenly I feel all lonely.
That was bound to happen. I lost contact to every girlfriend that got pregnant during the last few years. All those chicks could talk about were there brats. And the interests just changed.
Is that what will happen with me and Coop? I lie my hands down on my belly while I watch Coop walking away.
I'm having a baby.
Will I lose my best friend?
I just roll myself out of Baby GAP. With ninety nine dollars less and a ultra hip diaper bag. The fight with Coop just pissed me of so bad that I prescribed myself shopping for therapy.
And the next shock is about to come. In the coffee-shop across the street I see Cohen with some lanky blond. Alexis?
Out of reflex I hide behind a pillar. You can probably see parts of my belly on both sides.
My heart is racing. High blood pressure. It happens a lot during pregnancy.
I'm sure that's just some kind of colleague. Cohen is not a cheater. I'm the one for him, he loves me, we have a great marriage. (I think so - hopefully - sometimes)
Maybe he isn't ready to spend his nights at a crib instead of a bar. Maybe he isn't ready to be a father. Maybe I should have listen to him when he said he wasn't ready. Maybe I shouldn't have set down the pill. Maybe we should've had more sex. Maybe I should stop worrying.
I should be a real woman get my fat pregnant ass over there and greet him with a sweet "Hi Darling!" and just sit between them.
When I look again they're gone. They are probably shagging in some storeroom right now. Rolling over each other. Do position I haven't been able to in months. Eat each other up...
I take a deep breath and look again. There still sitting there. Laughing. Cohen is clearly flirting.
And that leaves just one explanation: She isn't a colleague. She's Alexis.
I'm moaning.
"Oh my God! That women has contractions! ... I knew it ... stay calm. We're going to help you... Just breathe! ... oh my God ... that's what you get out of straight-sex..."
In front of me I see a gay shop assistant out of the shoe shop across the street with dyed blond hair. He almost keels over. Out of his Prada-slippers.
"Get a ambulance, Tommy! God if she starts to bleed I'll tip over... I think it's the best if you get a second one!"
"Hey! I'm not that fat!", I protest.
"The second one is for me Sweetie!"
After I resolved that misunderstanding, before they called 911, he released back the street. But not without present me a pair of Pravda-baby-shoes and telling me concerned "You really should take it easy!"
Now Cohen and the blond chick are really gone. Great.
"How was your day, dear?"
Cohen stands in the door with two cartons of pizza in his hand. He's looking at me like he just had a happening.
"What's going on? Don't you feel well? Or have you been watching The Valley all day?"
"Why?"
"Cos you sound like somebody wrote you a dialog. You never asked me that."
I shrug my shoulders. So what? You can change your life every day. And my life is changing a lot these days.
"Dinner is almost ready."
Cohen puts a hand on my forehead.
"You don't feel warm. Maybe a attack of nesting."
I'm turning sulky.
"I just thought we could have a nice evening."
Cohen's opens a bottle of beer, smirking.
"You know I really like your pregnancy. It makes you homely."
I smile.
Idiot! Homely... what else can you do when you're eight months pregnant? Dancing through the clubs is out of question. But it looks like my pregnancy turns out the opposite on him.
We sit down.
"I didn't know you could cook that delicious."
Oh you liar!
"Tell me, Sweetie. Do you work on something special?"
"Well... munchies... boy, I'm hungry."
"Now tell me!"
"Since when are you interested in comic books?"
"I just thought... we will be parents. We should know everything about each other..."
"Sum, we know each other since high school and are married for seven years now."
"But I just feel like I have to get to know you better! So tell me: Where you in office all day?"
"Of course."
"I just thought... maybe you were out for a coffee or for shopping..."
He shakes his head and looks at me pity full. He gives me his "the-pregnancy-made-her-insane"-look.
"I don't really have time for shopping and stuff... I have do support our family... Now is there more beer?"
He gets up and starts looking.
Of course. We don't have time for that... That was clearly a lie. I watch him opening another beer.
Do I really know him? Maybe he's some sort of double agent. And he has another wife and four kids.
Maybe he's some kind of porn star.
Maybe I've got a problem.
Damn.
Cohen's alarm goes off at seven thirty in the morning.
He leans in to kiss me.
"Stay in bed honey. It's your day off. You shouldn't be working at all. Take it easy."
I mumble something and act like I'm still asleep.
But I'm awake for hours. Stay in bed! You would like that, wouldn't you? So you can meet with lanky blonds in coffee-shops.
When he leaves the house a half an hour later, my time has come. I roll myself out of bed and get up groaning. I make it in less than five minutes. New record!
Once I'm up I start with my morning-routine.
- Five minutes of breast- and pluck massage
- Showering - ice-cold at the end to protect myself of varices and to get my nipples bite-resistant
- Put on nursing-bra (what happened to my beautiful lingerie? Sigh.)
- Put on my elastic stockings (I'd never believe I'd say that, but I can't live without them anymore, my legs are swollen after two steps without them)
- Put on the same pants for like the hundreds time (nothing else fits anymore)
- Have yogurt and cereals for breakfast (so I and Honey don't tip over)
Two hours later we're finally finished. Aside from the shoes. I always thought it was a bad joke but I can't tie my shoes anymore. Since it's to cold to go without socks I slip into my flip-flops with thick socks under them. After five minutes on the street my brain is working again and I go back home to change them in for a pair of boots. Normally Cohen helps me to get them on but today I gotta do it by myself.
At 12:24 I'm finally finished.
I squeeze myself into the car. My belly and the sport-seats don't really like each other. If I could I would just demount the steering wheel.
Shit! I forgot something.
My hospital bag. In case I get contractions in the middle of the mall. I don't wanna buy anything allover again.
My love for a huge purse is the only thing that didn't change. Just the contents are different
From CUC (coitus utensils case) to BUC (birth utensils case).
Instead of rubbers, nursing pads.
Instead of aspirin for the morning after, glucose to keep up during birth.
Instead of thongs for changing, huge cotton-underpants with even bigger sanitary napkins.
It's actually pretty comfortable here. I'm sitting in my car. Drinking some hot tea and eating a sandwich.
I parked across from Cohen's office building and I can see him through the huge windows.
Maybe I should become a P.I. It seems really fun.
No lanky blond yet.
Cohen is brooding over some drawings. Good boy.
Ah! He's moving! Moving. Of course I'm right behind him. And he hasn't noticed me till know. There are always two cars between us. Somewhere in the mall I lose him then. Damn!
"Nice desk. New?"
Cohen jerks. He just came back in. I'm sitting in his swivel chair and pushing out my belly.
"I wanted to surprise you..."
"Eh... oh... eh... nice. You did!"
He winds like he does a belly dance and tries to hide something behind his back.
"I've been here for an hour."
"You are?"
"Yes. Where were you?"
"You want some water?"
He pours some orange juice into a glass, half of it lands on the desk. Interesting. Very interesting.
He tries to hide the plastic bag behind the glasses. There's probably underwear in it. And shower foam. I once read that it's really important, at cheating, to use the same as you do at home. So you don't smell different.
I'd say my visit is a direct hit.
"Your secretary didn't know where to find you."
"Do you want some cookies. I think I have some anywhere..."
He's looking through his file cabinet. Oh. So this is about cookies.
"Where were you?"
"Where I were?"
"Yes."
"I met a client."
"A client?"
"Yes for lunch."
"For lunch?"
"At the crab shack."
"The crab shack?"
"Yes?"
"That's funny because I just saw you at the mall."
"At the mall?"
"Yes."
I'm curious how he'll get out of this. He's so busted.
Suddenly he looks at me.
"What were you doing at the mall?"
Damn! The son of a lawyer again.
Attack is the best defense.
"Shopping..."
"But didn't you say you couldn't walk three steps with your belly? And we already have everything for the baby."
"I just felt like it..." I shrug my shoulders.
"What did you buy?"
"Chocolate. We didn't have any at home and I really wanted some."
"Really? Interesting."
I look into his eyes without batting an eye.
"Okay... I was at the mall. I'm guilty."
"Oh."
I'm starring at him. I busted him. I guess that's it. He'll tell me he wants a divorce any second.
But instead he goes back to his shelve and pulls two beautiful wrapped up boxes out of the bag.
He hands me one.
"For you."
"What it is?"
"Open it!"
A nursing bra out of black lace. Amazing. In that, my boobs will look like Sophia Lorens in her best times.
And then the other one.
"For Honey."
A pink little plastic horse.
"I was shopping. I wanted to surprise you tonight. I thought that it's about time for Captain Oats and Princess Sparkle to have their own offspring."
I flung my arms around his neck.
"Kiss me, Baby!"
I love him.
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