Peg's Pov:
So much has changed in the past few hours, and all of it is giving me a headache. This whole thing about Tramp still has me all sorts of confused. Tramp has loved plenty of girls; the dame staying in my apartment is proof of that. But he's never committed to them; again, the girl at my place is proof of that. I throw away the cigar that Buster gave me, ignoring the cat calls from the street, and enter my apartment. It's small and dingy, but it's home, more than most people have got. Currently lying on my old green couch, I was Trixie, in an old gray dress, watching over a little blond curly boy sleeping on said couch. When she realizes she's being watched, she looks at me and smiles.
"Hi, Peg. How is everyone?" She asks in a low voice, aware of the 4-year-old sleeping beside her.
"They were surprised to hear your back after all this time. And don't worry, only Buste knows about Tommy." I assure her, still trying to avoid the news about her baby daddy. I start to hang my scarf on the coat rack. "You know you are not banished to the couch. You, you, and Tommy can take the bed. I don't mind."
"Nonsense, this is your place, Peg. I don't want to take advantage of your generosity. Well, be out of your hair in no time, don't worry." She smiles brightly at me, and I try to smile back, but it doesn't reach my eyes. I walk over to the kitchen before she can notice. "Wine?" I ask her, reaching up for my glass and a bottle we stole from some Italian restaurant last month.
"Pleaseeee." She reaches out, and I sit on the couch across from her, with little Tommy sleeping between us, sipping our wine.
"So Trixie what happend? I mean, you up and leave the town, disappear for almost five years, and come back with Tramp's kid? I mean, I get why you left, but why come back?" I ask her, sipping more wine as I wait for her answer.
She sighs. "I guess you all deserve an explanation. It all started during Tramp, and it's the one-month anniversary..."
Trixie's Pov:
I was so excited it was me and Tramp's first anniversary. Almost everyone thought we wouldn't make it this long. Before, he had a new girl almost every other week, but I knew I was special. Sure, there were roomers of him having some casual flings while we were together; those were just rumors, nothing concrete.
I had my gift ready for him: some chocolate-covered strawberries I spent months saving up for. But they are his favorite, so it's worth it. I'm just so giddy, practically bouncing around, and finally, I round the corner to see-
He whispered in some other girl's ear, and she just giggled.
Then they kissed.
I feel some sort of wetness on my cheek, and it takes me a minute to realize I'm crying, but all I can focus on is my boyfriend locking lips with some...some...HUSSY.
Wait, I recognize that girl, Fifi Montoya. She's been trying to hook up with Tramp since she moved here 3 weeks ago.
Before I'm ever fully aware of what I'm doing, I am making over to them, throwing the box of chocolate fruit at them.
"Ow. What the hell is your problem, you BITCH!"
"WHAT THE-Oh het Trixie."
"Hey, Trixie. HEY TRIXIE! That's all you have to say to me: you, YOU CHEATHER." I start hitting him a bit, but I'm too angry, and it's very uncoordinated.
"Hey, no, we talked about this. We broke up, remember ?"
"What?!" I shriek, and everyone around us flicks. "When was this!?" I can feel tears threatening to fall, but I won't cry-Not for him.
"Don't you read your mail? I sent a letter two weeks ago."
Wow, he couldn't even do it to my face. "I haven't gotten a letter from you!"
"Yeah, I did see I even wrote down the address here." He pulls out his stupid notebook, and I read the address he's been sending all his mail to, and low and behold: "This says apartment room number C4." He nodded, "I'm in apartment B4! ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS WHOLE TIME YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW MY ADDRESS."
"Oh my bad, sorry."
The nerve of this guy, "If you sent it two weeks ago, then WHY were we still spending the night together and...other things?!"
"I thought you just wanted to have some fun." he shrugs, and Fifi is standing there smugly.
"A few days after I moved in here, I decided to show Tramp here a real fun time. We've been together ever since," Fifi giggles before tutting, "Gusse, you didn't get the memo."
I am in pure shock; it's like I'm all alone in a dark void, deprived of nothing. Everything about us was a lie, and for the first time, I could see Trump for what he really was. I'm not sure why it took me so long; hell, his nickname is TRAMP, for god's sake. All he'll ever be is a petty criminal in some washed-up gang that will forever sleep around with whoever is easy enough. Well, I'm done being easy enough. I scream, grabbing the box of chocolates before storming off to my apartment.
I'm done with all of this.
My breakup was five weeks ago, and I still feel terrible. I'm sick to my stomach, constantly tired, and I've only wanted to eat apple pie for some reason, but I'm sure that's unrelated. I'm always crying no matter what wild emotion I'm feeling: sadness, anger, happiness, confusion. Soon my mother had enough.
"No boy makes a girl react like this, Beatrice; you should have gotten over this by now. I told you that Thomas was no good. Now look at yourself."
"I can't help it, mama," I sob; it's all I've been doing. "I thought I was special."
"I'm sure that's what every girl before and after you thought. Now get up; I won't let this boy bring you to such a state. We have a big day ahead of us."
"Mama, I feel sick."
"None of that know. Get up."
"No, Mama, I'm serious, I feel-" I can't even finish my sentence before throwing up all over my bed.
"Beatrice Smith." She comes to my side, rubbing my back, "Tha's great, sweetie. Get it all out. This just might be your cycle acting up. You should be getting it any day now."
"No, it's due-" It was due two weeks ago... I'm late.
I'm NEVER late.
I jump up and start pacing, surprising my mum a little, doing some math in my head. I think of all the symptoms I've been experiencing in my "Heartbreak."
No...no, I laugh to myself. I can't be-It's impossible...but.
Realization sets in, and my hands fly to my stomach. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no- I run around and lock eyes with my Mama.
She comes to the same conclusion, "Oh. Beatrice," she croaks out. We hug and cry.
Why calm down after a few hours and let the news settle in. I'm pregnant. I'm with a child. I'm going to be a mother at only 16. Maybe It's not so bad; Mama was only 19 when she had me. That's only a three-year difference. No, we're screwd.
My Mama started reassuring me as if she could see me panicking . "It'll be okay, sweetie. We'll get through this."
"Really?" I ask, still not sure, but hopefully.
"Of course. First, we are going to tell that no good boy that nocked you-"
"NO MAMA!" I sit up quickly. "I don't want him to know."
"Why not Beatrice? This is his kid? He should be just as responsible. He should marry you."
"No, you were right, Mama. Being involved with him was a terrible idea. He already ruined me. I don't need him ruining our child. Teaching them his right from wrong. I'd rather do that myself." I start crying again.
"Oh love," She starts wiping away my tears, "You could never be ruined; no matter what others say, you are amazing; it's that Jone's boy that's ruined." She holds both my hands in her own, cradling them near her heart, "When I got pregnant, and your Father left, my parents kicked me out, leaving me to fend for myself. I won't do that to you. You have my support 100%."
"Thank you, Mama." We hugged again, and I just knew that everything would be alright.
"...After that, we decided to move away and start fresh; Tommy here kept asking about his dad's thoughts, and when my Mama died last year, I knew It was time to come home. Tommy should have a relationship with his dad, and I just hope he's mature enough to earn it. Either way, it's nice to be back home surrounded by family. Why are you crying, Peg?" I finished my story and worried for my friend, who's really like an older sister to me.
"I'm so sorry, Trixie." She cries, "You should have come back a lot sooner."
"We came as fast as we could, but I had to save up for a funeral and travel tickets; we lived rather far away, and, Peg, what's wrong? You're worrying me."
And with that, it was her turn to tell me a wild, life-changing story.