My Novels: Andy & Angel Part 5

Here's the next new part, a slightly shorter one this time because I couldn't fit everything into the last one. If you haven't read the previous parts yet, you can do that here. Enjoy and please let me know what you thought!

Ugh… what time is it? It feels so early. My surroundings are hazy, spinning a little. I groggily sit up, suddenly realising how sick I feel. I stagger out of bed to the toilet, shocked at how unsteady I am; I have to hold onto the wooden railings on the landing so I don’t topple over. When I get to the bathroom I’m actually sick.
Wearily I rub my eyes, wanting to wash out my mouth. What’s wrong with me? I’m sure I haven’t eaten anything dodgy. I don’t really feel like I’ve got food poisoning.
I stand up, steadying myself against the sink. I’m forcing myself to brush my teeth when I suddenly freeze.
I was just sick.
My period was due a week ago.
All I want to eat is pesto… I keep oversleeping.
Oh my God.
I think I’m pregnant.

I can’t tell mum. She can’t know, I can’t even let her suspect. I feel like crap but I force myself to get dressed, praying that Andy will come to school today. Oh God, I need to tell him. I can’t keep it from him. But what if… what if he won’t love me anymore? What if he just discards me as a slag, goes off with some stereotypical pretty girl? Won’t I be all ruined if I have a baby? Why would anyone want me now? There’s a million questions running through my head and the only answer to them all is fear.
Maybe it’s just coincidence. Maybe I’m not pregnant at all. Yes you are, my nauseous stomach whispers. Oh, yes, I agree, my absent period yells. Just shut up, shut up, shut up!
Thank God Andy is actually coming with me. All day I’m desperately scrambling for the courage to tell him… but I never find it. With every chance I get I dash into the toilets, praying that my period has started. That never happens either.
Andy knows I’m not alright. He can tell I’m uncomfortable now when he kisses me, even when he takes my hand. Still, he knows me. He knows I won’t tell him until I’m ready; so he stops trying.
It’s on the way home that I finally blurt it out. He’s busy lighting a cigarette, tutting at the wind that keeps blowing it out. His dark hair is all a mess; he looks so tired. I feel like I’m being a pain. But I need to tell him. I put my hand on his arm and he wearily glances over at me. When he sees the tears in my eyes he quickly shoves the cigarette back in his pocket, looking worried.
“Oh God, Angel, what’s wrong?”
I’m a bit unsteady so he steers me over to a bench, we both sit down. He takes both of my hands, looking me in the eyes.
“Tell me, baby. Please.”
I look at him, realising how much he’s changed since that day with Violet and the kiss… how much we’ve changed. We’ve grown up, sooner than any kids should have to. But his green eyes are still full of all that naïve innocence and concern. I don’t know how to tell him… I feel like I’m evil and I’ll corrupt him.
“Andy, I… I think I’m pregnant.”
He looks horrified. For a moment he turns away, biting his nails, staring at his feet. Then he takes a deep breath and takes my hands again.
“We need to go buy a pregnancy test. Have you done one yet?”
I shake my head, snuffling.
“No… I don’t know if I can bear going alone. Please come with me.”
He still looks horrified, frightened. But he reassuringly strokes my face, he helps me stand up again.
“Angel, I hope you didn’t think for a second that I wouldn’t go with you. This is our responsibility.”
“Thank you, Andy. I love you.”
“I love you too. Come on.”
We hurry into the little town centre. I don’t think either of us even know where to buy a pregnancy test… or what to do with it when we get it.
We try the small Tesco but we can’t find them in there. A smiling assistant in Sainsbury’s asks if we need any help but we feel too embarrassed and ashamed to tell her what we’re looking for. The chemist is closed… but finally we find one in Boots. The cheapest one is £7.10!
“£7.10?!” I exclaim. “I can’t… I haven’t even got that much money in my purse!”
Andy pulls his wallet from his pocket and with a little flash of reluctance, passes me his cigarette money.
“Here.”
“What about you? You’ll get all worked up if you can’t smoke.”
“I know I will. But this is more important than cigarettes, Angel. I’ll just have to take some more money.”
“Your dad might notice-”
“Shh. Forget about it. Let’s go pay for this.”
The cashier studies us closely, glancing from the box to us with raised eyebrows. Andy scowls at her and she looks away, but I know she’s staring after us when we leave. He protectively takes my hand, guiding me off the crowded street and over to a bench. We open the box and look at the instructions, but I have to piss on it. Sighing, we throw it all back into our bag and hurry back home.
He stands outside of the bathroom, sighing and clicking his lighter. I really needed a wee but now I can’t do anything. He keeps peering around the door, asking if it’s done yet.
“I’ll tell you when it’s done, Andy.”
“Sorry. …Does it work if I piss on it?”
“I don’t think so.”
Eventually I manage to do it, when he anxiously walks in without asking and suggests turning the taps on. I don’t know if I’ve done it right… we’ll see, I suppose.
I leave it on the side of the bath and go to sit down on my bed. He sits with me for a while and then scurries back into the bathroom. I hear some rattling and hurry to see what it is; then I realise that he’s shaking it about.
“You’re not supposed to do that, Andy! It might give the wrong…”
My voice trails off. He stops shaking it and stares down at it. The result’s already there. It couldn’t be any clearer.
A big fat blue cross.
Positive.

I’m a wreck, sobbing on the cold floorboards of our abandoned house. Poor Andy is trying to reassure me, sitting by my side and holding my hand. It’s not working. Eventually he strokes my face and looks me in the eyes.
“Angel, you have to tell your mum. What else are we going to do?”
“No! No, no, no, I can’t!”
How can I tell her? What will she think, what will she do? Oh my God. I don’t even know…
“You have to, Angel.” he says gently. “She’s going to find out eventually. You won’t be able to hide your belly.”
“I can’t! I just can’t…”
But he’s right. I don’t want to believe it but eventually it starts to sink in. If I could hide it from her I would… but I know I won’t be able to. She’s going to notice. I’m still all thin from my anorexic phase yet in a few months I’ll start to get a big belly. She’ll know.
Why me? Why did I have to get pregnant? I bet there’s loads of girls at that school who really have done it, and they’re not pregnant… well, I suppose there’s some who are. I’m going to be one of them…
I can’t tell mum that night, I just can’t. We agree the next morning that I’ll tell her then. It’s a weekend and she’ll hopefully be in a good mood… or not.
I leave her to sleep in as long as she wants, then make her a coffee and some breakfast. She seems neutral, annoyed about some council tax problem but glad that she’s not at work. I stand by the kettle, feeling sick. How do I do this? How do I just announce to her that there’s a child in my stomach? It’s not even that. She’s going to know I’ve had sex… she’s going to kill me. And it’ll be a miracle if I ever see Andy again.
She’s talking about going to Tesco. Oh, God, no, I’ve got to tell her before she leaves! I don’t know what to do…
“Mum?”
“Yes, love?”
“I need to tell you… I need to tell you something.”
She isn’t stupid. I see her expression change, become slightly wary. She knows this isn’t good news. I almost feel like she’s already staring at my belly, like she already knows.
“Yes?”
“I… I did a… well… it said… I…”
“Angel, there’s no need to stutter like that. What is it?”
“I… I’m…”
Oh, God. This is just ridiculous. I take a deep breath and then I just blurt it out.
“I’m pregnant.”
The most ominous silence falls over the little kitchen. It almost feels like the air has frozen. She’s staring into her coffee, her mouth becoming a tight stony line across her face. I hold my breath, my heart pounding. I know I’ll get one of two answers. I want it to all erase itself, I don’t want to hear either… but an understanding one would help. I don’t even want to think about the other one.
But that’s the answer I get. She looks up from her coffee, blue eyes and tired face drained of all life and emotion.
“I’m disappointed, Angel. I’m very disappointed.”
She isn’t even looking me in the eye. She turns back to the coffee.
“I would have liked to think that I raised my daughter to… know better than this.”
That hurts me, it hurts me that she can’t understand, she can only think that I should have known better. But at the same time all I can see is my poor vulnerable mama, reduced to this frail and lonely skeleton… partly by me. I was the final straw. Wracked with guilt, I want to cry and hug her, willing the thing inside me to disappear; wondering if she’s right, wishing I could have done better.
“It’s not… it’s not your fault, mum.”
It’s like she can’t hear me. She’s blinking back tears.
“Why, Angel…? Why?”
Suddenly she’s angry, slamming her cup down. She glares at me.
“What the hell did you think you were doing? You’re thirteen! Do you have any idea what this means?!”
“I… I’ll move out. Me and Andy can go somewhere else, take the baby-”
“Don’t you mention that scum near me!”
Andy’s not scum! I want to scream back at her. I love Andy, he loves me, you don’t understand… I don’t know what to say anymore. I want to protect him yet I can’t bear to see her like this. Her first son has turned his back, papa is away at war; she waits every day for the announcement that her husband’s name has joined the list of the dead. How can I destroy her even more?
Then I think of papa, my brave papa fighting for his country, and I’m overwhelmed with shame. What would he think, coming home and finding me pregnant? Yet somehow I know he’d be there for me, I know he’d understand. I burst into tears.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I never thought…”
“Well, you never do.” mum snaps. “I hope you’ve considered abortion, Angel. Because that’s the only logical solution.”
“No!”
My sympathy is evaporating and more guilt is raining down on me because of it. I want to talk to my mama, the mum I used to know before it all went wrong. I want to comfort her, I don’t want to hurt her… but I don’t think I even know her anymore.
Her hands are trembling. “…He is a teenager, an animal full of lust and testosterone. I doubt he will have any interest in bringing up the child after a few months. …Or any real interest in you, aside from your ruined little body. You need to grow up, Angel.”
I feel like she’s stabbed me. It’s not true. She’s known Andy all his life! How can she say that? I know that for once she’s wrong… yet it still frightens me. What if Andy does leave me and the baby all alone, if I’m all ruined at thirteen and nobody will love me ever again? I’m sobbing quietly, feeling sick and dizzy. Eventually mum sighs awkwardly and pats me on the elbow.
“I’m sorry I’ve been harsh, Angel. But, really… abortion’s not difficult. At this early stage” – she glances at my tummy – “it’s just some pills you have to take. Nothing nasty these days.”
Just take a few pills, it’s easy to dispose of the new life growing inside of me.
I dash over to the sink and I’m violently sick.

The clock ticks slowly. Ellie sings out-of-tune to a kids’ song jingling from the TV. Andy stares at his feet, praying that Angel’s confession is going well. He bites his lip and thinks of the child in her stomach. His child.
Suddenly there’s a hammering on the door. Andy hurries over, a bundle of nerves. Jane is stood there, face flushed and furious. She glares at him with such disgust and hatred that he takes a step back. His prayer obviously didn’t work.
Brushing him aside, she stomps into the house, yelling his father’s name. For once he’s awake. Irritably but forcing a fake smile, he steps out of the kitchen. He reeks of alcohol, betraying all the signs of a severe hangover.
“Hi, Jane. Has something happened?”
She’s shaking, desperately fighting to stay calm. “Yes, something has happened. I think you should know.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“My daughter is pregnant. With your son’s child.”
The room falls silent. Andy buries his face in his hands, feeling ashamed and embarrassed; and deep down, frightened. What reaction will come from his father, he can’t begin to imagine.
He laughs awkwardly, kicking aside one of Ellie’s toys.
“You’re kidding. Very funny.”
“I wish I was.”
He closes his eyes, sighing; then he begins to shake too. His eyes snap back open and with frightening viciousness he stabs his finger in Andy’s direction.
“Have you done this? Have you shagged this girl?”
For a moment Andy says nothing, staring blankly at Ellie’s happy TV show. Then he shrugs.
“So what? I love her.”
Jane gasps in horror, her hand flying to her mouth. She begins to stammer, but his dad cuts her off, spitting at Andy.
“Get your stuff. Get out.”
He blinks, feeling suddenly more frightened and pathetic than ever.
“But where… where will I go?”
“Do you think I care where you go?!”
His dad staggers over to him and smacks him hard in the face. Ellie screams, bursting into tears and covering her eyes. She falls back on the TV remote, sending the volume as high as it will go. Deranged kids’ music is blasting out, his dad is roaring, hitting him, Jane is screaming, Ellie’s screaming…
He turns and charges up the stairs, hauling his suitcase down from the top of his wardrobe. His dad is yelling, screaming at him to leave.
“Get out of my house! Get out, you filthy little bastard! You’re no son of mine!”
“I don’t want to be your fucking son!” Andy screams back. “You’re filthy, a worthless piece of shit!”
Years of frustration and angst are finally un-bottling now; but he’s made it worse, his dad is livid. Something smashes. In another ten seconds he’s stomping up the stairs.
There’s no time to pack a second bag. All he has is his little kiddie suitcase, making him feel even more tiny and pathetic than he already does. Desperately he stashes in his remaining memories of his mum; and only just in time. His dad storms in, grabbing him by the shoulders. In horror he realises he doesn’t even have his precious notebook. Remembering the plays he spent years working on, he summons more courage than he knows he has and kicks his unsuspecting father hard where it hurts. In the one second he lets go, Andy grabs his notebook and stuffs it down his t-shirt. For that he loses a tooth, gets a fat lip. His dad snatches his suitcase and hurls it down the stairs; then he drags him down after it. Ellie is howling, hiding behind the TV. For a few moments then Jane suddenly becomes the caring mother Angel had once known. Quickly she takes the suitcase and protectively ushers Andy out of the door. She slams it shut before his father can follow.
Andy dizzily stares around at the familiar street, blood running down his face. Then there’s a squeal from the other side of the fence.
“Andy!”
“Angel!”
Jane follows wearily as he dashes up her garden path. He throws his arms around Angel, hugging her tight.
“I’ll be a good father, Angel. I promise.”
“Oh, Andy, I love you so much.”
“We’re gonna make it. Don’t worry.”
He grabs her face and kisses her. She kisses him back, desperately clinging onto the father of her child.
Jane tears them apart, pushing Andy away from her sobbing daughter. She points strictly to the house.
“Get in. Now.”
Angel tries to help Andy with his suitcase, but he stops her, telling her to be careful of the baby. For one moment he can see that Jane is touched; then the flicker disappears again.

Jane pointedly sits Andy and Angel in separate chairs in front of the TV, bringing them a tacky old Monopoly, and a Cluedo that Angel recognizes uncomfortably as Daniel’s. She shoves the coffee table between them and gives them both a glass of cheap Coke, sitting down on the sofa and saying that she isn’t watching them; but they both know she is. Andy politely sets up Monopoly in silence. Angel is quiet. Her hair is untidy and her face pallid; she looks very unwell. Yet Andy has known her all his life, and he knows the twitch in her left arm means she’s agitated, that the way she’s blinking slowly means she’s trying to suppress her anger. She’s about to explode and he knows it.
He tries to get her involved in Monopoly, but after a few turns she’s had enough. She folds her arms, glaring at Jane.
“I’m not five years old, mum. I’m an adult. Me and Andy should be making decisions, discussing this. Not playing some kids’ game with my mum watching me like a hawk, as if I’m going to jump on him right in her living room-”
“That’s enough.” Jane snaps. “You are children, Angel, and it’s not up to you how you behave in my home. Neither of you have any idea what you want. You’re confused teenagers controlled by hormones. I’ll be calling Andy’s uncle later to get him a place to stay.”
It shows in their eyes how both of their hearts sink. His uncle lives in the city. There’s no way they’ll be able to see each other that way… but Andy can’t really stay here. When Jane isn’t looking, Angel gently strokes his arm. She’s so beautiful to him, with her tangled hair and unwell face, sitting there in her housecoat. He wants to scoop her up in his arms and run away with her, to some castle they invented as seven year-old children where they can live happily ever after.
Instead, he’ll be sent off with his stupid uncle Jack and his stupid cousin Melanie. He stares down at his feet. He doesn’t even want to go out in the daylight, not like this with all the symbols of his beating printed all over his face. He feels so ashamed. The only person he knows won’t judge him – although he’s still frightened that maybe she will – is the girl he’s being taken away from.
“Jane… if you don’t mind, before I go it’d be nice to discuss what’ll happen to my child. Controlled by hormones or not, it’s still my baby.”
“And I could have you prosecuted for creating it!” she yells, a stranger to the woman he once knew. “With my thirteen year-old daughter-”
Angel stands up, furious. “And you know what I’d tell them in the court? How I wanted to do what we’ve done, how Andy never forced a thing on me, how it’s both our faults, prosecute us both!”
She’s dizzy, Andy can see that. But she’s desperately trying to stand her ground. He gets up to support her. She’s shaking.
“It’s our baby. You can’t tell us what to do. Andy has a right to know what’ll happen to his child!”
They’re both livid, trying to out-stare each other. Andy knows from experience that there’s no way to win against Angel’s indignant glare. She can’t be outsmarted and Jane knows that. She sighs furiously and grabs the phone.
“Discuss what you will. I suppose it’s important, you do need to come to a conclusion. Obviously, the solution will be abortion. I’m ringing your uncle, Andy.”
He looks at his poor weak girlfriend, helping her sit back down. She has no energy left to stand or glare. She stares desperately at him, as if asking some question he can’t fathom with her sad eyes. All he can do is put his hand on hers. They both hold their breath as the phone conversation begins.
“Hi, Jack. Yes, yes, I’m fine, are you? Good. Oh! That’s nice.”
For a while there’s banter; Andy rolls his eyes, thinking that his uncle is probably rambling about Melanie’s dance class again. Then Jane takes a deep breath.
“Well, you see… something’s happened here. Yes… well… Angel is pregnant. With your nephew’s child.”
Silence. The room becomes so quiet that they can hear Jack’s reply.
“…Seriously?”
“Yes. Erm… you can imagine Howard’s reaction. Andy’s with me at the moment. He… was quite violent about it. Ye-es… well, you see… the problem is, Andy’s got nowhere to go. I thought because you’re his closest family…”
Before she even finishes her sentence, it’s not hard to see that Jack isn’t pleased. He’s talking loudly and quickly. Jane is silent and they can vaguely hear him again.
“Well, God, that’s bad, but, but, you see, Melanie’s dancing… Moira’s classes… erm… me, you know, I work all the time, problems with Moira’s parents… no spare bedroom, it’s full of stuff…”
Jane’s face is ashen, her mouth tighter than ever. When she speaks her voice is deadpan, vaguely betraying anger.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“Well… sorry, Jane. We weren’t expecting it. Howard’ll take him back, you’ll see. He loves him really…”
“I don’t trust Howard with him. But thank you, Jack, for the apology.”
“Yeah, sorry. Oh, here’s Melanie. I’d better go. Bye! Say bye to your cousin, Melanie.”
They don’t know whether Melanie says goodbye or not. Jane has already slammed the phone down.
I have nowhere to go. Nobody wants me.
I can’t even choose the fate of my child.

That night mum marches us to the bathroom – separately, of course – to have a shower and brush our teeth, then she commands Andy to sleep on the sofa. He just shrugs and agrees, but I know that when she’s gone to bed he’ll creep upstairs. I force my tired eyes to stay open, waiting.
It feels like forever, but eventually my door creaks open. He trudges over and sits down on the bed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. His poor lip is swollen, the shadows of black eyes are beginning to show on his pale skin. He’s still so beautiful, in his crappy denim jacket, covered in bruises. A tragic kind of beautiful.
I reach out to hug him, taking his hand. For a moment he stares blankly at the old pink rug as if I’m not there. Then he silently climbs into bed with me and he doesn’t grope or try to do anything; he just pulls me close and buries his head in my shoulder.
He’s an animal full of lust and testosterone.
No, mum. You’re wrong. You’re so wrong.

On Monday she makes me go to the doctor. I desperately want Andy with me, but of course she insists that he goes to school. I know he won’t. He’ll pretend he’s walked off and then he’ll scurry back to the abandoned house.
Maybe that will just lose its charm for me, now. All it seems to say is this is where you got pregnant.
For one moment in that claustrophobic little room at the doctors’, I think that maybe there’s a tiny chance he’ll say no, the pregnancy test was wrong. It could be, right? Especially because Andy was shaking it. Sometimes they’re wrong anyway, it even says so on the leaflet. You should always do two just to be safe.
It was wrong, I know it was. This is all just a horrible coincidence. He’s going to tell me I’m not pregnant at all.
I wish.
Of course he doesn’t. He sniffs disapprovingly and says that yes, my pregnancy test was correct. Yes, I’m approximately five weeks pregnant.
Five weeks. It was the first time. I got pregnant the first time.
I hate it. I hate the stupid thing in my stomach, I want it to die and never come back… but I don’t, not really. I can’t abort it. It’s Andy’s child!
Not that mum cares. She’s already asking the doctor about abortion. No, no, please don’t tell me they’ll force me to do it now! I’m ready to cause a scene. I’ll protect myself, I’ll run and run until they can’t catch me. If they dare to hurt my baby…
No, the doctor is giving mum the number for a special clinic. They can’t do it here. When we get home and mum rings the clinic, the line is busy. She’s so stressed out that she slams the phone down and doesn’t try again… yet.

For some reason I thought that because I’m pregnant, I wouldn’t have to go to school.
Fat chance.
Mum actually walks me – us – all the way there to make sure we both go. Everyone is laughing at us and someone hears mum shouting at me about abortion. Oh my God. Now they know I’m pregnant. Please, please don’t let that get to Michelle…
Fat chance, again. Courtesy of Emily, who I actually considered my friend.
Well, I’m definitely the slag of Year Eight now. There’s a girl in Year Ten and one in sixth form who are both pregnant, but I’m the only one in this year. They even make me do P.E. and one afternoon, Michelle purposefully whacks me in the stomach with her bag. Andy hits her so hard that her nose bleeds. She’s about to squeal for help and threaten to get daddy on us… but Andy hisses something in her ear that makes her scuttle off in silence. Apparently he told her he’s got a knife. It wouldn’t surprise me, to be honest; but no, I know he’s not like that, even if he might seem like it to other people now. He’s still just a naïve and innocent young boy.
At about nine weeks, mum finally gets me an appointment at the clinic. It’s at eight in the morning. I don’t know how I get away… but Andy’s already thought about it. We both get up at six and hang around outside until the first bus to the cemetery arrives. Mum will never find us there. I feel bad about her taking the day off work, but I’m past the point of caring.
I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what’ll happen when we go home. Surely she can’t force me to abort the baby? It isn’t hers! It’s my choice. She says I don’t understand what being a mother means, that I’m stupid and ridiculous for wanting to keep it. But me and Andy can do it, I know we can. What’s really so hard about it? We can change a couple of nappies. He already knows how to do that because of Ellie. Giving birth can’t be that bad.
Mum is so angry when we finally go home that she throws a plate at the wall. It shatters and crashes down to the floor, splintering into tiny pieces. Then there’s silence, a horrible ominous silence.
I try to tell her those things I thought at the cemetery. One of the worst ideas I ever had. She practically holds me down in an armchair and makes me watch a video of someone giving birth.
Okay, it looks terrifying. For a moment there I thought Andy had passed out. He probably had.
I don’t care. I still won’t abort it. I won’t!

Mum threatens to kick Andy out onto the street. She tries talking to his dad again, but her face is pallid when she comes back. I know she won’t kick him out when I see that.
She still hasn’t realised that he’s been creeping up to my room at night, as soon as she’s gone to sleep. I hope she won’t. I don’t know what I’d do without him to get me through these long nights. At first I was so tired and couldn’t stop sleeping, but now I’m finding it difficult to sleep at all
. We don’t do anything. We just sit here or cuddle up.
I run my hands through his tousled hair. In the dim light of the streetlamps shining in I can vaguely see his reflection in the mirror. He looks glum, resigned. Eventually he glances up at me.
“…Should I have used something?”
I don’t know what to say. Should he? I don’t know. It wasn’t his fault. I shake my head.
“You weren’t to know, Andy.”
“I was irresponsible.”
He sits up, kicking his shoes off and shuffling away from me. He stares at the ceiling, slumped against the wall.
“What kind of asshole doesn’t use a condom? What have I done to you?”
“You haven’t… done anything to me, Andy. We did what we’ve done. Not you. Us.”
He pulls his cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one. I flinch, thinking that now mum will know he’s been in here. But what will she do, really? Shout at me? I’m starting to expect that as an everyday occurrence. One more yell isn’t going to hurt.
I feel so uncomfortable in these stupid pyjamas… and fat. I want to hide away the stupid belly that’s beginning to appear; not stare at it almost bursting the seams of the trousers that are usually too big for me. I read on the Internet that you start gaining weight very soon, but I’m not supposed to get a real belly until about three months. Yet I’m sure I already am…
“I feel fat.”
Andy raises an eyebrow, his cigarette smoke spiralling out into the air.
“You’re pregnant.”
“I know. But look at me, Andy. I’m practically splitting these pyjamas. I feel horrible. I am horrible. No man would want me like this.”
I don’t even know why I’m saying it. It’s ridiculous, I sound like some whining Michelle. Of course I’m bigger, I’ve got a second life in my stomach. Andy throws his half-smoked cigarette out of the window. I quickly open my mouth to apologize, tell him to forget I said anything. I expect him to laugh or sigh, something like that… instead he crawls back over to me and kisses me.
“I want you. I love you.”
He rubs my poor swollen tummy.
“And this is our little baby. It’s beautiful already. See?”
He’s smiling. I can see in his eyes that he means it. I don’t know what to say. How has a person this perfect emerged from the wreck that was his childhood? Someone who actually loves me… I feel like I don’t deserve it.