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“I’ll do my best, but you obviously don’t know Pebbles well enough if you think I can make her ass do anything she don’t wanna do.”
“Boo! Come on Pebbles,pleeeease!” Winnie begs.
“Fine!” Pebbles concedes with a huff. “Fine! I’ll go. But you owe me! I probably won’t even need these stupid classes!”
“Why wouldn’t you need the classes?” Winnie asks, clearly concerned.
“More than fifty percent of twins are born by c section, so what the hell do I need birthing classes for if they're just going to cut me open,” Pebbles replies and shrugs.
“Girlfriend, where the heck are you getting your numbers from? Is that what Dr. Murphy told you?”
I listen carefully because Pebbles comment has me concerned as well.
“No, I googled it.”
“Didn’t we all tell you to stay the hell off of google,” Winnie says.
“I couldn’t help it. I was watching a show on Netflix and it got me thinking,” Pebbles frowns. “I would be fine either way. I just kinda want to be prepared.”
“That’s what birthing classes are for!” Winnie yells. “I gotta go. A customer just walked in! I will see you Thursday, sweets!”
Pebbles phone beeps as the call ends, and she drops it to the counter.
“She can be annoying sometimes,” Pebbles huffs.
She rolls her eyes at my smirk. “Why, because she’s right?”
She stares daggers through me. “I thought you were leaving when the pizza got delivered.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m leaving, but just want you to know I agree with her. I think it’s a good idea. In fact, I want to go too. I want to be prepared. I, for one, have no fucking clue about any of that birth shit.”
I round the corner, almost colliding with Wes as he carries a box marked‘kitchen’. I pat him on the back before leaving. “Go take a break and get some pizza, kid.”
I wish I could stay and hang out, but I have a promising lead of a guy coming to look at the Bel Air, and I want nothing more than to sell this thing. I’m nowhere near hurting for money, but I would like to get it sold to start a savings account for the twins' future and surprise Pebbles with it as a gift.
* * *
Pebbles
“Why don’t we start off today by talking about your childhood,” Sophia says to me from across her office. She’s sitting cross legged and barefoot in her wide armchair.
I chose a loose maxi dress for my appointment today. I’m not even at the halfway mark in my pregnancy, but I’m already sweating in places I never knew could sweat with this Arizona summer heat.
Sophia’s office is nice and cool. The cold A/C combined with pulling my dress up to rest at my hips causes my body temperature to drop nicely.
“What do you want to know?” I ask her, slightly avoiding the question I know she wants me to answer.
“Last time we talked you made a few comments about your parents. I’d like to start there, if you don’t mind.”
“I can do that.”
Sophia smiles warmly at me, waiting patiently.
“My parents met when they were in their early twenties. My dad was part of a motorcycle club. His friend’s wife brought her friend, my mother, to a party one night, and that’s where my parents met. It was never a secret that they weren’t dating when they got pregnant with me. Whenever they fought, my dad would throw it out there that my mother trapped him by getting pregnant with me.”
Sophia scribbles a few notes on her pad before looking up to me. “Did that ever make you feel like your dad didn’t want you?”
My eyes widen and I shake my head. “No, not in the slightest. My dad loved me very much.”
