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At least I still had all my teeth!
It sucked getting old.
It didn’t matter how young I felt on the inside, all it took was one stiff back, one cracking joint, one gray hair, one decent fart before I had to buy Depends. The youth I enjoyed in my twenties was gone, and middle age begrudgingly trudged, moaned, and complained to the forefront.
If that shit wasn’t bad enough, I was watching the chance at my dream pass me by.
If I wanted my dream, I knew I could no longer wait for Mr. Right to show up and whisk me off my feet. While every girl liked a bit of romance once in a while, I did not need a man to give me what I desperately wanted and that was a baby.
It was fucking 2024, damn it.
Women didn’t need some man to have it all. I could do it all by myself. I’ve done everything all on my own so far.
Why not the kid bit, too?
“How hard could it be?” I muttered when I heard a car door slam across the street and the sounds of a wailing child in the throes of a full meltdown pierced my ears. Looking out my window, I watched a parent try to reason with the ungrateful brat who was on the ground, beating the hell out of Mother Earth.
It was Christmas for crying out loud. What the hell did that kid have to be pissy about? Did he not get the latest video game he wanted?
Cringing, I gulped. “Yeah, I think I’ll start with fostering first. No sense in rushing into anything.”
Just then, my front door opened and my brother Eugene walked in. “Holy crap,” he said. “I’m never having kids. You see that shit across the street?”
“Watching it now,” I muttered.
Closing the door, my brother asked, “So, what’s for dinner?”
“It’s on the counter. Help yourself.”
Hearing a drawer open, I sat up as Eugene walked over and sat, shoveling the microwave dinner I’d cooked into his mouth like it were a five-course meal. “Sis, I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about you.”
“What the hell are you blabbering about now, Eugene?”
“Scribe and Henley.”
Sitting up straighter, I worriedly asked, “Is everything okay? They’re sick, aren’t they? Do I need to head up the mountain? I told them to take it easy after what they both went through. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing like that. They’re getting married. Scribe popped the big question.”
“Oh,” I sighed, settling back down. “Is that all? So, when’s the big day?”
“Valentine’s Day.”
“That seems fast.”
“You know Scribe.”
“Yeah, I do,” I whispered. “So, did everyone else have a good Christmas?”
Eugene shrugged, shoveling the remaining bit of food into his mouth before he said, “Guess so.”
“You call Mom and Dad yet?”
He vehemently shook his head, causing me to chuckle.
Yeah, that was one conversation neither of us wanted to have. While we loved our parents, they were what the hip kids today were calling old school. Our parents, while slightly progressive, believed that their children should be married with 2.5 kids already. There wasn’t a conversation we’ve had over the last few years that didn’t contain the question... ‘And when are we getting grandbabies?’
“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you call them this time,” I bribed, and my brother paled, shaking his head profusely.
