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She’s pregnant. Very pregnant.
I can feel my face turning pale, or at least cold. The sensation flows down my neck, over my shoulders, and covers my whole body.
Of course he has someone. A guy that looks like Josh doesn’t have to live life in the past, thinking of someone he used to know, used to love. I remind myself I haven’t exactly been celibate since Josh. Even if my non-celibate stint ended. Even if I have forgotten their names—first and last names.
Yeah, I was in a bad way after our breakup, the first year or two of college. Not being with Josh crushed me, then threw me into a promiscuous, drunken path of self-destruction where I couldn’t find whatever it was I was looking for.
The woman’s approaching. She’s one of those types that wears pregnancy well. And I shouldn’t hate her, but I do. I can’t hate the baby. It’s not the baby’s fault. But the baby seals the deal, wiping away all hope. Yeah, I had hope. Hope that one day... Now it’s clear as can bethat one daywill never happen.
She’s me. No, she’s who I should be. She’s where I should be. Pregnant with Josh’s baby.
I’m thinking of my escape, how to get away from him, her, and this situation in general. I may do well in college course tests without too much studying or planning but coming up with what to say in order to escape this situation clearly isn’t my forte.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, pushing the cart away, feeling his eyes on my back, or backside, or both. I remember that the can of cranberry sauce is behind me, close to him, but screw it. I’m not going back. I don’t want to know who the blonde is because I don’t want it to mess with my head any more than seeing him already has.
I make for the front of the store. Leaving the cart near one of the registers, I go straight to the ladies’ restroom and lean against the nearest wall. I know my mother’s outside, in her luxury car, waiting, listening to her classical music while thumbing through real estate listings on her iPad. And still, knowing she’s waiting, I’m not willing to leave the restroom and chance running into Josh. And the very pregnant woman.
BASTARDS AND BELLIES
JOSH
I shove the last bag of groceries in the back of the truck. I don’t know why I bother. I don’t even know what it is that I don’t know what I bother with. I can’t fucking think straight right now. Seeing Cassie, that was like being tossed into Lake Travis in early February, after a night of hard drinking, and maybe an illicit substance. Or two. Yeah, been there, done that. Your body hits the water, and either the cold, or the water, or the pressure, or the hangover, or the shit you did last night, or some combination thereof...
Bottom line, you can’t fucking breathe.
Billie’s waiting in my truck’s cab. She’s got a pinched look on her face. She’s waiting impatiently to dig into me. Sometimes I feel like I could kick my brother’s ass for telling Billie anything about Cassie. If I could kick Isaiah’s ass right about now, I would. But that’s not very possible.
I open the door and brace for the onslaught I know is headed my way. Who’d have thought that Cassie would have been here? I heard she stayed away from Boar Creek. Guess I heard wrong. Or she’s back. Either way, it’s like finding a gaping wound that you know had never healed but that you’d put a tourniquet on and at least staved off letting it kill you.
Deep breath, Josh.
I slip into my seat and put my key in the ignition with a concentrated, deliberate hand, hoping to hide how this has affected me.
“That was her, wasn’t it?” Billie’s leaning against the door, facing me.
“Buckle up so we can go.”
“Answer me. I’m not buckling until you answer.”
“Billie. I’m not going to talk about her with you. Got it?”
“Why not? She ruined your life. I know she did. Isaiah told me all about it.”
Thanks, big brother.I doubt he really told herallabout it. He doesn’t knowallabout it. No, one else but me knowsallabout it. Not everything.
Billie had to buckle that seatbelt.
I’ve not always been on the right side of the law in this town. Nothing major, maybe not anymore, but there’s a deputy that harbors a grudge and has a hard-on for me. You’d think he’d let go of that shit from long ago. I mean it was just bullshit pranks and harmless—for the most part—shit. I don’t need the hassle. And Billie not buckling up would spell hassle.
“Either you buckle up, or I’m walking home.”
“You can be such a bastard.” She pulls the seatbelt over her swollen belly. Fastens it with a snap and a dirty look.
I’ve been called worse.
CRANBERRIES AND TRASH
CASSIE
