"We'll need to go see an obstetrician."
"A what?" I said, dazed.
"A baby doctor!" Freddie snapped, but he started making a list of things we need to do. "We'll need to go to the doctor and see how far along you are. We need to put you on a diet" I started to protest but he cut me off "you HAVE to go on a diet Sam, do not even try to get out of it. We'll need to look into adoptive parents, since you don't want to keep it and… we'll need to tell our parents."
That list almost made me break down in tears as I had been doing so many times today. But I didn't, they started to fight me but I fought back, pushing them back down my throat. "What should we do first?" I asked.
"I think we should tell our parents first."
Fuck. Why that first?
"Why?" I whined.
"Because neither of us has any money and we'll need them to pay for the doctors until I find a job! But I doubt they will, they really just need to pay for this first appointment. I can work for the rest."
"You would go to work?" I ask.
"Of course, I am the… dad, aren't I?" paused at the word dad, I think it scared him.
I reassured him, "of course you are."
"Okay, whose parents should we tell first?" he says.
"Mine, I might not be alive after yours." I make a small attempt at a joke. Instead of laughing, Freddie's eyes harder. "No, you may not be."
"Okay, let's go now."
"Sam, you've done a lot today. Maybe you should rest."
"I want to get exercise before I start to look like a whale!" a whale, oh my god. Soon I am going to be one of those pregnant women waddling around on the street.
***
We open to door to my house and peek inside. "Mom?" I call out. I hope she was sober enough to understand what was going on. Also sober enough to remember who Freddie and I were.
"Did you tell her we were dating?" he whispers.
"Yes, but don't expect her to remember." We walk into the living room. No lights are on, except the glowing of the TV and some light peeking through the closed blinds. My mother was asleep with a can of booze in one hand. Every time I see her like this it hurts me, even thought she has been a drunk since my father abandoned us. I hated her for that. The time I needed her most, she was too selfish to care. She was a coward.
"Mother," I shook her awake and flipped off the TV. She waved the bottle at me.
"Who dere?" she questioned.
"Samantha."
"Hh?" she said, which I took to mean 'who.'
"Sam, your daughter," I said. Freddie looked like he was about to be sick. This was the reason no one is every at my house. "Aw Samantha!" my mother crooned, "Give ya momma a hug!" she swiped at the air around her, trying to reach me. I refused to touch her. I made Freddie get her a glass of water and I made her take a cold shower. She came out a little less drunk.
"Sit down" I ordered her. She plopped down on the couch. She seemed a little cranky for me at making her tidy up. I was used to that, but I knew Freddie wasn't and I didn't want her to blow up at me in front of me. "Who's that?" she pointed at Freddie as if seeing him for the first time.
"That's Freddie," I responded. I didn't go into further detail; she would know soon enough the relationship between us.
"Lemme guess" her words slurred, "your prewnant?" she was talking with a lisp, mocking me.
"Actually yes," said Freddie, "and I'm the father."
"Well duh ya dumb ass! Why else would ya be sitting in my house?" I tensed up, she wasn't allowed to call any one my friends, especially Freddie, a dumb ass. "Not worth a fight" Freddie whispered to me. My mother was laughing at herself, she thinks she's funny.
"Bout time" she said gruffly. "I got pregnant with ya when I was fifteen. My mother the same… it's what the Puckett's do" she giggled. "He's a good looking one too" she pointed at Freddie, "I fell in love with TRASH! FUCKING TRASH!" she started screaming. I ushered Freddie out of the house, we had to leave before she got physically violent.
"Shouldn't we do something?" he questions.
"The only thing to do would be to give her most drink. That would calm her down. But she doesn't deserve more drink, and I'm not going to be the one to kill her with alcohol." Freddie bit his lip. "What?" I ask.
"I never knew your mom was that bad." He says.
"Are you kidding, Freddie? She was practically sober." I say bitterly.
"Do you ever- no never mind." Freddie stops himself.
"Do I ever what? Freddie tell me!" I order, I was pretty sick of this day, I didn't want to play games.
"Do you ever wish your mom wasn't an alcoholic?" He asks quietly. I stopped walking, no one had ever asked me that before. Not ever Carly. They had hinted at the question, but I always acted really clueless and they got embarrassed and walked away. Now it was my turn to be embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," said Freddie, "did I offend you?"
"No but… I'll get back to you on that answer. Okay?" I said, timidly. Timidly, probably the first time I've spoken like that in my life. "That's fine," Freddie caresses my cheek. He sighs, "ready to go tell my mother?"
"Ready as I'll ever be."
***
I am sitting on the Bensons still new smelling leather couch. Freddie is sitting next to me, massaging the small of my back. I'm sure he can feel how tight me muscles are, my back must feel like a rock. But I am too worried to really care. Mrs. Benson went to go make us some 'snacks,' I am sure whatever it is I won't be able to eat it. Freddie told me he has basically stopped eating at home, except when his mother is at work, and then he can eat whenever he pleases.
Mrs. Benson walked out of her kitchen with a tray of something. "They're whole-grain crisp bread with cottage cheese and dried peas on top. And in this bowl is some bean salad." Mrs. Benson says. A wave of pity washes over me, she tries so hard. Freddie gives me a warning look; he must have had this snack before. "Hand sanitizer?" said Mrs. Benson. I take it without a word. She sits down on an armchair that matches the couch. "So what do you have to tell me?" Mrs. Benson asks, kindly. Freddie and I exchange a look; we each want each other to say it. He takes the leap,
"Sam is pregnant, mom." Mrs. Benson's mouth drops a little.
"And you're the father?"
"Of course!" Freddie snaps, offended. The next sound I hear is something I will never forget. Mrs. Benson starts to wail, tears gushing out of her eyes like Niagara Falls. Her crying should irritate me, even piss me off. But it doesn't.
It actually hits a nerve, a sensitive one. Her tears stab me somewhere in the chest, maybe where my heart is. Why do I feel this way? Maybe because over the years I have grown fond of Mrs. Bensons crazy ways. The thought of that makes me what to puke. Maybe it's because I'm pregnant, and mood swings are expected. Or maybe it's because my mother never showed any emotion like this towards me.
Whatever the reason, her crying made me feel tearful myself. And helpless. She was balling and I didn't know what to do. I started to get up of the couch, but Freddie grabbed my arm and pulled me back. He whispered something that sounded like 'just give her a minute,' but I didn't listen. I was too concerned with the woman who was showing more emotions in this minute than I had seen in an entire lifetime.
Mrs. Benson slowly regained control, hiccupping a few times in the process. She put a hand over her heart, and then lunged at my throat. I let out a war cry and punched her when she was about a foot away from my face. This set her into a whole new round of hysterics, and also made me feel incredibly guilty, but I was justified to do so, it was self defense. Freddie knew I was upset he started to massage the small of my back again, and whispered to me. I leaned away, I didn't want comfort. Actually, I wanted to leave.
This time Mrs. Benson regained control quicker. She started at Freddie and me for a moment. "Samantha, could you please step out into the hallway while I have a word with Freddie?" she said, her voice quivering with rage. Gladly, I thought. I stepped up and made my way to the front door.
Standing outside Freddie's front door, for the umpteenth time today, I could practically feel the floor vibrating. I sighed and leaned against the rattling door.