Atonement

By Seniya

Talk

After we make love
I'll be lost in the afterglow
You're all I'm dreaming of
I just can't, I just can't let the feeling go
After we make love
There's no doubt in my mind I've been touched by
All that heaven and earth will allow
All that matters is right here and now

After We Make Love by Whitney Houston

"There's a special technique to leper fish catching Will." Of course there was, just as there was a special technique to tent pitching, wood carrying and just generally walking since we'd arrived here.

"Caleb," By now I'm tired, frustrated, irritated – and most of it isn't due to the fact that I'm housing a thirty pound beach ball in my stomach. It's all ironic really, given that we are on vacation. " I can fish. My dad taught me how to and I'd like to do…"

"Did he teach you how to go leper fishing?"

"There are no such things as leper fish, you twit!"

"You see, now you're getting angry. It's because you're standing up." He reaches out to lead me back to the mountains of pillows that he's placed near our camping place but I pull away.

"I'm not angry!" Really, who died and made him the all-knowing authority on pregnancy? I doubted that he'd last an hour – "I am sick of being told by you where to sit, and what to eat…and…God, I'm just sick of you. Go fishing, you…big…fat headed pig! I hope a whale eats you."

And I stomp back to our campsite with my hands in fists by my sides.

"Just try to relax." He calls from behind me, seemingly unfazed by my harsh verbal attacks. Not that I care, he's just so…stupid that's all. Men. I hate men, all of those stupid, ugly, hairy chested brutes who impregnate women and then tie them to their bedposts…

When I get back to the tent, I decide, I'll throw his things in the river. That thought pleases me immensely.

I'll show him helpless.

"Will…wait." Him again. I roll my eyes and continue on; in this mood I'll torch the place.

"Will…" His hand is on my shoulder now, I smack it away. His lips on my neck, and his arms on my stomach then after…well, all right, I'll leave those.

"What do you want?"

"Don't be mad."

Who does he think he is? Telling me how to feel, I push away both lips and hands and continue on my tirade.

He catches up to me in a matter of seconds. "I'm just trying to help."

"Well, you're not. You're not helping anyone. Especially not me." But of course he is – he's so sweet to me – and – and I just keep screaming at him – I'm a terrible person – he should leave, he should just go and find a better wife.

Tears are streaming down my face when I turn to face him again. "I-I'm sorry Caleb…I've…b-been really just…terrible and unbearable…don't hate me."

I do feel his sigh of relief when I curl into his arms and allow him to run his hands along my back. "It's all right Will. I know that it must be…uncomfortable for you."

And I'm fat. "I'm fat." And splotchy and pink and just nasty to look at. "I look terrible."

"No. No, you don't."

He's lying.

"You're lying." But I don't mind, in fact, I'd like him to lie some more.

"You're as stunning as the day I met you." I don't bother to mention that the day he met me I was covered in mud and smack dab in the middle of my "awkward" phase.

"Thank you." I sniffle, the tears vanishing nearly as quickly as they came.

"Do you want to go lie down?"

"Yes." He'll probably find some way to annoy me again within the hour, but right now, it feels unimaginably nice to have his arms wrapped about me.

"What do you want for lunch?"

"I'm making sardines and golden apples so I suppose that you'll have to starve. Because as we all know, you can't cook."

"I resent that…"

"Ow."

"What?" He releases his hold on my arms as though he's been stung. "Are you hurt?"

"No…" My hand grazes slight protrusion of my stomach, "…it's the baby Caleb, she's moving."

"He is?"

"I've already told you that this is a girl."

"And I've told you that Old-man Gregory…"

"…look feel…you see?" I press his hand against my stomach, feeling the afternoon sun on my nape and his breath on my forehead.

"I think so…"

"No, that's not it…wait that's it. Did you feel it?"

"Yeah. Was that…it?"

"What do you mean it?"

"Well, I didn't feel anything…really."

"She's still small."

"I guess…maybe you should eat more. So that he can get bigger."

"She's fine. The doctor said that I'd feel them more as she gets older."

"Does it hurt though?"

"No. And while we're on the topic, I'll ask you to kindly stop calling my daughter a boy. She'll grow up with issues or something."

"What about you calling my son a girl? Those are issues."

"Whatever." I snuggle back beneath his arms and proceed to nudge him along back to our tent. Maybe I can talk him into sharing a nap with me—or something.

Author: Yummy. Whitney (pre-Bobby). Well, my plans for really fast updates are at a standstill. I still have to go to school and spend stupid bonding time with the freaks from my grade before graduation. It's karaoke day today y'all. Boo. But I do write quickly, so this was a little diddy before I marched off to prison.

Since, again, I've never been pregnant. Thank you, thank you. And my mother gave me weird looks when I asked what baby movements feel like. I did the majority of my research on the net, who told me that baby moving feels like gas.

Romantic.

Review please.