He put a concerned face on, his full lips curving into a small puppy frown, though his brown eyes burned with blank confusing.
"Do you ... know?" she asked. Her eyes watered, a prick of cold overwhelmed her as it had once before. Anxiously she searched his face, eyes, for an answer, but all she saw was the usual. His light coffee eyes were bemused, a mixture of wonder hid between the corners of colors. His lips twitched, almost amused, as if something she had said was funny.
FUNNY?
I found out not to long ago. It was something I should have expected, after all it wasn't as if I had gone out of my way to prevent it. No. It was almost as if I had wanted it to happen. Wished for the unwanted to occur. What can I say? More then that it wasn't done out of love, or out of hate. Or maybe it was done out of one of those. Maybe. They had said that my case was one they had seen many times before. See that? Im not the only foolish teenage girl out there. There are plenty dense imbeciles walking around with there heads held high. So why didn't I feel like raising my head this morning?
The sun shined bright against my baby pink wall, the sun rays sprinkling the air with its colorful dust that wear on through my curtness. The sky was not yet blue outside, more of a mixture of purple and pink with some inky orange around the edges. But it might as well have been black, I could have cared less. My feet were soar, my lips and eyes swollen, and my head ached with bound pressure. Memories of nights before kept bolting into my mind. I could only remember a few things, whispers of actions and thoughts and faces that surrounded me those endless evenings. Only one stock out like a black cloud on a sunny day. Only that one night could I picture all too well, though my mind refused to replay it. Could it really be like that? Could a few hours of something so good change your life for the worse? I guess sinful greed's do pay off in the end.
I shook my head, letting my strands of brown hair fall in my face. I felt like crying, I could already feel my eyes burning up with painful tears that threatened to spill. But one had to stay strong in these situations didn't they? I had to stay strong. If not for myself, then for whatever it was that awaited me.
His soft caramel eyes stared down at me with confusion. Had I known him well enough I would have told him just how cute he looked, his round face looked as innocent as a small child being caught in the act of steeling. His plum lips twitched at the corners with bemusement, the curve so well carved in his mouth, as if the Gods themselves had gotten together to make the most exemplary lips ever. His cheeks held a bristled strawberry blush, giving him a boyish look. His light brown hair stood up in an artful semi mohawk. I could see his eyes twinkly with mischief, a sparkle of wonder at every corner of every shade of brown he held as he blinked. Each passing word he spoke send a shiver down my spine, and though I strained my ears to listen, I could only get a few words in.
"New York... Richie's mother... Away ..." Something about a party, a few friends and of course... Him.
"Miss Tailor, the doctors ready to see you now."
I looked up at the nurse lady who held my entire medical history in her hand. I could feel every eye burning holes at my back as I walked into the doctors room. I could almost hear everyones thoughts screaming at my ear as they begged for the hidden answer.
"Why was she here?" they asked, and I could answer simply: Same reason as you. I was stupid, I was foolish.
I sat on the counter contemplating what I would say to explain myself. To everyone who cared to know, I was what I was, my actions reflected what I wanted and I couldn't have given a damn to what they thought. But I knew deep inside this wasn't right. I could feel my insides twist as the thought of my future fluttered into mind. What was I going to do? More importantly, did I have a choice? And what would it be?
A wall of paintings flooded my vision, my tears blocking my eyes until I could no longer see.
"Hello Miss Tailor..." came a mans voice from behind me. I sniffed rapidly not wanting him to see me crying. He walked gradually towards me, I could feel his gaze travel to my face in search of answers. Everyone wanted answers! As if I had them myself.
"Is everything - "
"Yes fine," I interrupted before he could finish his sentence. How many countless times had I been asked that question today?
"Alrighty then, lets get started shall we?" he asked cheerfully, though I could still hear him hesitate as he talked. Steadily I turned to face the man that held my future in his hands. He was tall, white and sorta awkwardly build. Not very strong but definitely held an air to him that caused everyone to look twice. I couldn't take my eyes of his eyes, strong blue, that smiled down at me with all the comfort in the world.
Maybe I wasn't sick at all. Just maybe.
"So... I sorta know what... I have" I paused, looking down at my torn converse. My hands shook with frustration, with fear and just a tiny bit of hatred.
"Really? Then why come and see me?" He asked, his head tilting to better look at me.
"Because. I needed reassurance." I scoffed angrily, "I didn't want to walk around thinking I had aids to later on find out I didn't really have them!"
The room was quite for a few seconds, the doctor just stared at me with an open mouth, surprised by my outburst. Frankly, I was a bit surprised as well. So much for being calm.
Then his head shook. "No... Not aids" he said, his hands reaching to open the thin folder. His bracing blue eyes skimmed through words until he found one that caused him to take a deep breath.
"Miss Tailors you don't have to worry to that extend. You don't have aids." He said it directly to me, yet I felt as if he was avoiding my gaze all together.
What a doctor man...
I scorned. "To what extend do I have to worry exactly then doctor. If not aids then what else could be bloody wrong with me?" Though I sounded angry, a rush of relief flooded my every corner, the blood that ran through my veins burned hot as it tried cooling down.
"Well. Some would call this a gift" he paused to look me up and down, "though at your age Im sure you wont agree. Im sorry to say Miss Tailors, but your pregnant."
When a baby kitten is born, its mother nurtures the new born with love and care. Though animals have no theory of mind, instinctively the mother knows what to do to make the babe feel content. And until that young cat grows mature enough to feed and care for itself, the mother grooms and caters for it. How lonely it must feel when the baby has no mother to look up to? Its like being placed in a small box, blocked from all light or oxygen. Waking up every morning scared and cold, afraid that with each passing moment you might just give into the darkness, because really, whose there to keep you up when you fall? Lick your scares when you bleed, or dry your tears away when you cry?
I felt this way. Like a small imprisoned cat, stocked away by myself in my room. No lights surrounded me, the air around almost suffocating my mind. My throat felt clogged, like a stone blocked my passage of air from going in or out.
Just like a small cat, I wondered if I would survive this tragedy. The tragedy of having no one but myself to look after me. The tragedy of knowing I have no one to catch me when I fall.
"Stacy can't talk right now, may I leave her a message?" said the lady from the other line, an elderly women of about 56 years of age. Her voice sounded rough against her throat and though she tried hiding it, she talked with almost a droopy sadness.
"A message.." I thought for a second. What could I say? Please call me back? Im pregnant?
Oh yes that sounded like a smart thing to say to your best friends grandmother.
"Eh.. Naw just tell her to call me back, thanks."
"Fine."
Click.
And that was it. My last hope of telling someone, somewhere, about my unfortunate "gift", as the doctor had put it, had vanished. Crumbled away like ice under the sun. Just like my hopes, that rot away with each passing second. I wanted to cry. The tears I'd held in so hard in my eyes while at the doctor, wanted to be set free. But if I let myself cry... then I'd let myself give up. And could I?
Was it possible that this was a nightmare to which I would soon wake up from? I still couldn't believe it.
I placed my hand on my stomach, as if I could touch the small creature that grew with in me.
"Could this really..."
I didn't finish that. I knew it was real, there was no point in wasting my breath. Or in crying for that matter. I took a deep puff of oxygen, and with courage that I did not have I mustered all the sanity I could find with in me and stood up.
I was now a mother. The thing in me was now my child. And it was time to find the father.
