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Chapter 13
The summer was going by quickly. It was already the middle of July and there was only a month and half left of summer, which angered me. Yeah, there was summer reading to be done, but it didn’t matter. I always used spark notes anyways.
Nothing had really happened. My mother was still a raging alcoholic, Pastor Randy and Fay had morphed into ‘Fandy’ and Nadine had spent the majority of her summer at ‘work’ aka Tyrone’s apartment.
Me. Nothing really had changed. I hadn’t gotten my tapeworm checked out yet, but I did retake my math exam. It was blatantly obvious that I would be taking Math I again. I hadn’t gotten my period in two months. But that was normal, it skipped all around anyways and I’m guessing it has something to do with the tapeworm.
The phone rang. My heart stopped.
My mother and father had been fighting again, all because of my mother’s drunk dialing that she pulled about 2 weeks ago. I listened in on the conversation between them on that night.
“Hello?” my father answered.
“Yeah, Randy?” Mom said, loudly.
It was so obvious that my mom was drunk; I could hear my pulse pounding in my head as I held the phone.
“Yes, hello Pamela,” he sounded disappointed.
“I need to talk to you,” she slurred her words.
“Is this really the right time for you to be calling me? Maybe we can talk for real when you’re not intoxicated.”
“I’m not drunk!”
“Yes you are, and I can tell.”
“Don’t start calling me a bad parent, look at you, with you little slut charity case over there.”
I wanted to yell into the phone and tell my mom to shut up for once in her life, but then I would be discovered.
“Pam, do you hear yourself? You should not be calling anyone names.”
“They tell me, the kids, how you ditch them for her, you bastard.” She sounded like her mouth was full of spit.
“Pam,” my father laughed, “why don’t you just put the cap on your vodka bottle and call it a night, eh?”
“I said I’m not drunk!” my mother yelled.
I was so embarrassed for my mother; she was acting like an ass.
“You need some professional help, Pam.”
“No, you do!”
“Look, if you don’t get your life back together, for the kids sake, you aren’t going to have kids anymore,” my father stated, plainly.
My mouth dropped open, was he going to fight for custody of us?
“I wouldn’t be talking Randy, you ignore them.”
“The kids love Fay and her kids, Pam.”
What a fucking lie, how could he ever think that?
“That’s not what they tell me.” Pam sounded proud.
“Frankly, I don’t want to hear what you have to say when your drunk, so goodbye Pamela.”
“YOU’RE BEAT!” She yelled.
What is that, her new catch phrase?
My father hung up the phone. I listened to my mother talk to the empty phone line, as if it were my father. She mumbled a ‘bastard’ or a ‘not drunk’ here and there, but all she got in return was silence of an empty phone line. She hung up and so did I. I went to bed that night with a stomachache from merely the feeling of being uncomfortable.
Thankfully the phone call presently was not my mother this time, it was Francis telling my father that he would be late for dinner because he was staying behind after football to work on the drills with his coach individually. An experience that I was sure Francis would enjoy.
I walked into the garage to see Bobbi. She was watching an old episode of Family Feud. She stole a glance at me and returned her sight to the TV. I traveled closer to her and she stared at me with an eyebrow raised.
“What?” I asked in reference to the staring.
“You look different,” Bobbi said, slowly.
“Well, I just took a shower,” I offered.
“No” she looked harder, “have you gained weight?”
“No,” I looked down at my body desperately, “why?”
“Your face just looks wider.”
“Okay, then, maybe its just time for you to get new glasses.”
“Turn to the side.” Her hands roughly spun me around.
“Jeeze,” I hissed.
She stared at my body as if she was looking to find an imperfection.
“Your boobs are looking bigger.”
“Okay, pervert.”
She grabbed one of my breasts. It hurt like Hell. I covered my chest with my hands.
“Hey, that hurts, you asshole!” I yelled out.
“Whoa,” Bobbi retreated, “what’s up with you?”
“Nothing, that just hurt, you just squeezed me really hard.”
“Someone’s hormonal.” My grandma rolled her eyes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t leap to the occasion of my own grandmother fondling me.”
“Oh give it a break, I was not fondling you, I just tapped it.”
“More like beat it to a pulp!”
My grandmother looked annoyed and turned her face back to the television.
“Look, my period should be coming soon, they’re probably just sore from that. I’m sorry I said you fondled me.” I attempted an apology even though she had been the one who violated me.
“That’s okay, Lily, want to watch Family Feud?”
“No, it’s okay.” I had other things on my mind.
“I baked Metamucil brownies!” She joked.
I smiled and left the garage. I lied about my period and was I really gaining weight? I shuddered to think that that was just one more sign of pregnancy. Missed period, gaining weight, sore boobs, what else!? The thought had always been pushed into the back of the recesses of my mind, but now that someone else said something I had actually began to wonder, “What if..?”
I traveled down to the basement. I sat down at the computer table and typed in pregnancy into the search engine. I looked around suspiciously; no one was here with me. I sighed and clicked on the website that showed all of the early symptoms of pregnancy. I read down the list.
1.Missed Period
Check.
2.Nausea or Vomiting
The throwing up from the lotion and stew and the all around nausea i had been experiencing lately. A shiver went down my spine. Check.
3.Swollen Breasts
Check. Thanks Bobbi.
4.Frequent Urination
I don’t know, maybe.
5.Abdominal Swelling
I sighed. There was none of that.
6.Headaches
Check. But that’s from Jojo, I think.
7.Fatigue
Check, but I’m always tired.
There were many more symptoms but I was too scared to read down the list. I rubbed my temples. How could I ever get pregnant? Wait. Let's slow down, I’m probably not even pregnant, I told myself. I didn’t take a test yet and the website said that these symptoms weren’t always accurate. I prayed for it to be a tapeworm, even better maybe a parasite, or a terminal illness. Something that i couldn't be blammed for, anything! I’ll take fucking cancer over being pregnant.
God, please bless me with sweet, sweet cancer.
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Come Again? 13
