Chapter 38: Pregnant Bitches Are Insane
It had been several months since their wedding, and Vincent and Katrina had settled into a pleasant home-oriented routine that included both Bo and Lester. Vincent stayed up late working on various art projects, so he slept in later the next day. Katrina was happy he did, because she liked waking up first. She liked to shower and take her time getting ready, making sure she would look good for her new husband. It was almost a fanatical obsession with her to make sure she looked perfect, regarding the weight she was putting on as enhancing her too-skinny frame.
After Katrina got ready, she would go downstairs and cook an enormous breakfast. She cooked only to satisfy her pregnancy craving for tons of food, but the men of the family believed it was solely for their benefit. And as the months wore on . . . as most men are for good cooks whose food can be like a drug . . . the Sinclair brothers began to see the girl as a domestic goddess. The entire family ate breakfast together, no matter who had to do what that day.
Usually, Lester slipped in from his road-cleaning job to take a shower so he could join them for breakfast. Katrina refused to let him eat otherwise. When he was done, she handed him a lunchbag and sent him back to work. Bo, on the other hand, woke up only when Katrina called him and Vincent to eat. He dawdled long after Lester's departure, setting forth to do what she called his "town chores" only when the sun was high in the sky. Vincent went with his brother, as their main focus at the moment was to clean out all the stores in the town. Katrina insisted that the place be made ready for a curious child. And for once, all the brothers had agreed with her.
The deal was made that they tackle the town while she cleaned the house. So every day after the breakfast dishes were done, Katrina began to make the Sinclair home into a model of domesticity. At first, Bo and Vincent insisted she take it easy, but once they saw how her pregnancy hormones turned her into a raging cleaning machine, they left her alone.
"Pregnant bitches are insane," Bo told his brother when he saw that Katrina had not only tidied and straightened the living room, but had washed the drapes, scrubbed the floor, and created an elaborate set of sofa covers out of his mother's most expensive navy blue blankets.
Around lunchtime, everyone ate whatever was at hand. Afterward, Bo would sit in front of the television with a beer, while Katrina and Vincent retired upstairs. It was the favorite part of their day, to close their curtains and lock the door so they could make love all afternoon. Not coming down until evening, when Lester came by to drop off a pint of Katrina's favorite chocolate ice cream and relax with some alcohol in the living room while she made dinner.
Bo and Lester ate in front of the television. Katrina and Vincent ate in the kitchen. He would clean up for her, insist she watch T.V. with his brothers. And like clockwork, around nine each night, Katrina would fall asleep on the couch and Vincent would carry her to bed.
Vincent reveled in the comforting repetitiveness of their routine. It reminded him of the schedule his mother kept him on as a child. Katrina, on the other hand, was growing more and more nervous about having the baby. The routine was what kept her going each day, keeping her from having to think about what needed to be done.
One afternoon, Katrina's fear and anxiety grew too much for her and she decided to do the only thing she could. She slipped out of the house quietly and made her way to the church. After making sure neither Bo nor Vincent were hanging around, Katrina opened the old, creaking church doors and walked in. She genuflected by habit, still schooled to rigid perfection after years of her father forcing her to attend Mass.
For a moment she stood, staring at the casket of the grandmother of her baby, her hand over her swelling belly. Katrina didn't notice that it was Bo, and not a wax figure, that sat in the front row closest to the casket. He remained frozen in place, his back to her, as she knelt onto the prie dieu underneath the statue of the Virgin Mary in the corner.
Her low, sweet voice echoed through the small church, just barely audible through the noise of the recorded sermon. Bo chanced a look at her and watched in surprise as Katrina prayed to the Blessed Virgin to have a safe pregnancy and childbirth, to have a healthy baby and to be a good mother. She was praying so earnestly, Bo couldn't bring himself to move. He turned slowly back to face the casket and hoped Katrina wouldn't walk up to look at Trudy Sinclair's remains.
"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee."
Bo listened to the young woman's pleading words, remembering back to when his mother had prayed with such desperation to save his soul.
"Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
"Mothers," he thought, "they're all the same when it comes to prayin'."
"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death, Amen."
Katrina recited an entire rosary before adding additional private prayers, her lips moving constantly as she pleaded for help from the unseen.
"Blessed Mother, keep us all safe from harm. Whether we sin in your eyes or not, I am bringing a child into this world, and I want to raise it right. Protect my brothers, Bo and Lester, and keep Vincent's love for me steady."
Bo shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if he were invading a private moment, like he had walked in on her making love to Vincent. The low, pleading words made him feel sorry for Katrina, and pity wasn't something he liked tugging at his heartstrings, as black as they were. The feeling made him want to comfort her, or at the very least go buy her something. Fingers itching for a smoke, Bo forced himself to wait until he heard Katrina leave before pulling a cigarette from his pocket.
"God damn pregnant insane bitches," Bo said with a scowl.
A/N: All right, this was the final chapter before Carly and Co. come to Ambrose. I estimate there to be about seven more chapters before this story ends . . . so enjoy! -Scythe