I know that this is kinda short. But I felt like it should end there, because it felt right. Hopefully, you'll like this chapter. We're kinda getting more into the pregnancy, and sorry that there were no Seddie moments in here. There will be some in the next chapter! Just know that Sam is FALLING in love with him. She isn't already. And I must thank my mom, even though she has no idea that this site even exsists, cuz she's a nurse and gave me some pointers about the stages of pregger-acy. xDD
And a warning: there be some cussin' in this here chapter.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
You're sitting at the table
with your mom
because she's actually attempted
breakfast this morning
and she burnt it to hell.
But you're eating it anyway,
because it makes her happy
and that's a rare occurrence
because since she's started working
at the Granola Bar
she's been surrounded
by alcohol
and Lord knows, as well as you, that
she isn't her best
when that happens.
Suddenly, this wave of nausea
hits you
and you find yourself
bolting from your seat
and running to your upstairs bathroom
(your only bathroom),
but you don't even make it
halfway up when your hurl
all over the steps.
The only reason how
you even made it to the bathroom
is because your mom.
She took you gingerly,
by the arms
and helped you up each of the steps
one by one
and into the bathroom.
God, how you miss her sober self.
You wish she can be like this
more often,
preferably forever.
You're leaning over the toilet
smelling the rank that is your vomit
but you're not paying attention to it
because another round
makes its way up your throat
and you spit all of it out
in two takes.
You try not to let your tongue
touch anything inside of your mouth
but you fail
and you taste something
of burnt, poorly cooked pancakes
and almost expired chocolate milk
but only it's thirty times worse.
You haven't told your mom
that you're pregnant
yet.
You don't know
if she'd be able to handle it
hell, it might even kill her
to know that her own child
is walking down the same path
as she did when she was your age.
So you just tell her that
you've been sick since yesterday
when you ate some expired tapenade
and she believes you,
because how can she not?
you're a Puckett,
a skilled, beyond belief, liar.
When you get to Carly's
you see her and Freddie
sitting on the couch
watching some Girly Cow.
And, instead of diving into the fridge,
like you intended to,
you stop and stare at the two,
feeling this burning sensation
in the pit of your stomach,
but then they acknowledge
the presence that is you
smile and greet you
and after a moment
you shrug it off
and head to the fridge, anyway.
You sit down
next to Freddork,
because Carly's just gone up stairs
to help Spencer with something.
And after a minute, or two,
he turns to you
with a grim expression
and asks why you smell
so rotten.
You can't control your hand
as it goes to connect
with the back of his head.
You can't help if you stink.
You just threw up
for, like, 3 hours
and this is the asshole
is the whole reason
for doing so.
He deserves a smack
to the head
and that's what you tell Carly
when she comes down
to see the dork
cradling the back of his head
but you don't tell her why
he deserves such treatment
because she already knows.
Just because of what
Fredweird said to you,
you find yourself in Carly's shower
but you're not really washing yourself.
You're just sitting down
on the bathtub floor,
letting the cold tiles
that have not yet been heated
by the water
send tingling sensations
throughout your body
and you find yourself
thinking of that night—
the night that you'll never forget,
but you want to.
You want to forget so Goddamn badly
that it hurts
and hurts and hurts
and you don't think
that you'll ever
stop hurting.