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Personally if Taylor thought eating soup was going to impress her date, she needed a better date and Hunter needed to figure his shit out if he was going to just sit back and watch it all happen when we all knew good and well how much he loved that girl. God we were stupid kids. Kristen never really forgave me and held a grudge.
24
Kristen
The headache I’m sporting feels a million times worse since I kicked Damien out of my apartment this morning. “Uuuggghhh. Someone kill me now.” I sat down at my kitchen bar, head hanging down my fingers clutching the plastic strip and dark plus sign.
The door knocks and opens to Taylor’s overly cheerful voice. “Helloooo!” I hear her approach. “Oh honey, are you okay?” She’s asking me because of course I looked like a hot mess in my mismatched pajamas and rat nest hair, but this is how it works. I was there for Taylor in her last crisis and now she’s here for mine. No questions asked.
My hand half covered my face and I peeked at her with one waiting for a reaction when I said, “Taylor, I’m pregnant.” I pushed the test in her direction and she picked it up looking it over before quietly placing it back down.
“Shit, I’m gonna need something stronger than coffee especially if you and Damien are bringing little people into the world.”
“Hey! Thanks for the insult.”
“Kristen, I wasn’t insulting you, but I’m worried that there isn’t enough Baileys to solve this problem.”
“So my progeny are a problem?” Taylor sticks her head around the corner frowning and I knew she didn’t mean it harshly, but I had to rein in the red rage of hormones. “You think alcohol is going to solve this?”
She paused and I wondered what she would say next. “Honey… it’s that what got you knocked up in the first place?” I bordered on the verge of tears and moving in to crazy town. Heck, I was already there. “I will love any children you procreate, but I’m worried about the two of you. Babies change things. I mean look at Remi.” Thinking about our cute friend who worked at the bar who was a new single mom did bring it home. Way too close to home and the nausea bubbled up as I gave her directions in the kitchen from my seat in the living room.
“There’s whiskey under the cabinet inside the soup pot.”
“Now you’re hiding alcohol?”
Tired, I answered her. “I didn’t feel like sharing the whiskey until now. I mean a baby is a good excuse to party, right? Wee!” I make a swinging motion with my arm in a mock salutation before the tears overwhelm me.
“Yeah, no more alcohol for you–like ever.” She bent down hunting for my stash.
I sniffled catching the tear that threatened to fall. “Ever?” Of course I’m not going to drink pregnant, I’m not stupid despite what some people might think.
Taylor rushes back, the bottle of whiskey cradled under arm like an infant. “Maybe I should dress it up in a cute onsie?” I say between the falling tears.
Placing the bottle on the counter she hugged me fiercely. “Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay. I’m here.”
“Yeah but will you hold my hand when we tell my mom? She’s gonna kill me if I’m showing for your wedding.” I had fears of my mother who was undoubtedly strict, proper, very right wing conservative and her thoughts on baby before marriage.
“Well then we’ll just postpone the nuptials until your mini me is old enough to toss rose petals down the aisle.” And that’s exactly what made Taylor the best of best friends.
“Okay, but I’m not going to be the one to break the news to Hunter. I swear your man is chomping at the bit.”
“Oh you let me worry about telling the big bear.” I would never make her postpone her wedding, even if the thought had merit. It was the fact that she selflessly offered to do it that shattered me and cemented our already solid friendship for eternity. I would wear a satin burlap sack in a shade of teal if she asked me.
“I’m holding you too that, Taylor!” Of course I knew, Hunter was more likely to kidnap his bride and marry her on some island if he thought he was going to have to wait longer than the date they already set.
25
Damien
“I see my errant son has returned.” I find him in the garage where my father looked up from his workbench using a knife on one of his hand carvings etching in details. He has a whole menagerie lining the windowsill, some stained and others painted. “Your mother is making dinner, are you staying?” he asked going back to his project. It’s hard to say no when my mother is cooking a whole chicken with dumplings and gravy. It might actually be a law somewhere.
“I’ll stay for dinner.” I sit down on the bench taking in the quiet, the calm that my dad is so good at projecting, something he gave Hunter, but passed by me. The garage is a haven of sorts. There’s an old stop sign we found as kids outside of town we brought home, a random traffic cone and an antique table saw dad refuses to give up on. Hunter and I have since moved the business and the tools we inherited from my father when he turned it over to us to a shed on Hunter’s property which will eventually go over to the new house he’s going to share with TJ.
“You look troubled. This isn’t about money for your ticket is it? Your mother already–” I wasn’t expecting my parents to foot the bill for my stupidity. I got enough lectures from everyone all around.
I interrupted him, “No dad. I got that taken care of.” He grunts a
nd takes another small notch from the wood adding to his pile on the cement flooring.
