Blame it on the Alcohol
Part 5
I need to tell him. He needs to know he’s going to really have a kid. But it’s too late. I got all hormonally pissed off and blew up on him. He won’t believe me. Hell, I wouldn’t believe myself and I know I’m telling the truth. Fuck. I don’t want to raise a child by myself.
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, the familiar rude pounding on the door of Sammy brought me out of my deep thought process. I got up off the couch and waddled towards the door, which opened on its own accord, followed by Sammy, before I was halfway to it.
“I was on my way to let you in, you know,” I mumbled, going back to my perch on the couch.
“I was just trying to keep you from having to walk. And I was too impatient to wait for you to waddle your fat ass to the door,” she replied, with a joking smile.
“Don’t remind me of how fat I’ve gotten,” I mumbled.
“OK, so what’s so urgent?” she asked, plopping down on the leather couch besides me.
“Harry called.”
“Fuck. What’d he say?”
“The baby wasn’t his.”
“He tried to get back with you, didn’t he?”
“Yep. And I went off on him.”
“Did you tell him about his real kid?”
“Nope. And that’s why I told you to come over. I need to tell him, but I fucked up. What do I do?”
“What do you mean you fucked up? He’s doesn’t need to know because he’s just going to try to get back in your life and you really don’t need that kind of stress right now.”
“But I can’t raise this baby by myself…”
“You’re not by yourself. You have me. And if you ever get the courage, you could have your mom.”
“My mom would kill me. Not only am I pregnant at 19, but I won’t let the father be a part of the baby’s life. Plus I really don’t want it to not have a father, like I did. Sammy, growing up was so fucking sad because all these kids had dads to dad things with, but I didn’t. I don’t want my child to go through that.”
“Yeah, but your dad didn’t do what fucking Harry did. Your dad died a hero and because of that, you didn’t have a dad. Harry’s no hero. You’ll find someone before the kid will even realize that they didn’t have a father.”
“But what if I don’t?”
Sammy sighed and sat back further into the couch, her brow furrowing with thought over my situation.
“I personally don’t think Harry should be a part of the kid’s life, but it’s not my child. Do what you think is right.”
I bit my lip anxiously, the thought of pro and cons and what will or won’t happen if I tell Harry bouncing around in my head.
“What if he doesn’t believe me?” I murmured.
“Why wouldn’t he believe you?”
“Because I blew up on him. He might think that I’m just trying to make him feel bad.”
“I’m sure he’ll believe you. He has no reason not to. But it’s only if you decide to tell him that you have to worry about him believing you or not.”
I bit my lip again, the thoughts bouncing harder around inside my cranium.
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, the familiar rude pounding on the door of Sammy brought me out of my deep thought process. I got up off the couch and waddled towards the door, which opened on its own accord, followed by Sammy, before I was halfway to it.
“I was on my way to let you in, you know,” I mumbled, going back to my perch on the couch.
“I was just trying to keep you from having to walk. And I was too impatient to wait for you to waddle your fat ass to the door,” she replied, with a joking smile.
“Don’t remind me of how fat I’ve gotten,” I mumbled.
“OK, so what’s so urgent?” she asked, plopping down on the leather couch besides me.
“Harry called.”
“Fuck. What’d he say?”
“The baby wasn’t his.”
“He tried to get back with you, didn’t he?”
“Yep. And I went off on him.”
“Did you tell him about his real kid?”
“Nope. And that’s why I told you to come over. I need to tell him, but I fucked up. What do I do?”
“What do you mean you fucked up? He’s doesn’t need to know because he’s just going to try to get back in your life and you really don’t need that kind of stress right now.”
“But I can’t raise this baby by myself…”
“You’re not by yourself. You have me. And if you ever get the courage, you could have your mom.”
“My mom would kill me. Not only am I pregnant at 19, but I won’t let the father be a part of the baby’s life. Plus I really don’t want it to not have a father, like I did. Sammy, growing up was so fucking sad because all these kids had dads to dad things with, but I didn’t. I don’t want my child to go through that.”
“Yeah, but your dad didn’t do what fucking Harry did. Your dad died a hero and because of that, you didn’t have a dad. Harry’s no hero. You’ll find someone before the kid will even realize that they didn’t have a father.”
“But what if I don’t?”
Sammy sighed and sat back further into the couch, her brow furrowing with thought over my situation.
“I personally don’t think Harry should be a part of the kid’s life, but it’s not my child. Do what you think is right.”
I bit my lip anxiously, the thought of pro and cons and what will or won’t happen if I tell Harry bouncing around in my head.
“What if he doesn’t believe me?” I murmured.
“Why wouldn’t he believe you?”
“Because I blew up on him. He might think that I’m just trying to make him feel bad.”
“I’m sure he’ll believe you. He has no reason not to. But it’s only if you decide to tell him that you have to worry about him believing you or not.”
I bit my lip again, the thoughts bouncing harder around inside my cranium.
@WhatMakesNiallBeautiful
As soon as I have enough time to actually sit down and write. Maybe later this week :)
2/19/13