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Izzy
Moving Out, Moving On
Today’s the day I tell Bobby and Kit that I’m moving out.
Today’s the day I grow the hell up.
I’m going to be a mom soon. I need to get my life under control, and that means not living in my brother’s spare bedroom because I’m too scared to be alone. I can’t be the little girl all the wagons surround and protect anymore. I can’t be helpless and useless.
I may be unemployed. But I’m not unemployable.
I may never finish my degree. But I’m not stupid.
It’s time to take what I know and make something of it.
Starting with not being babysat and passed between my brothers’ care.
As soon as the sun breaks past the dark horizon and rays of sunshine highlight the dust in the air, I wander downstairs in search of my one and only caffeine hit of the day. The doctor said one mug a day. Two-hundred measly milligrams.
I start the machine with a grumble about know-it-all doctors that don’t know shit, and instead of dropping the pot under the drip, I put my mug under to get to the nectar sooner.
Normally, Kit would be downstairs already in her fuzzy socks and frizzy hair. She has a genuine addiction that has me worrying on the days the coffee runs low. Bobby’s smart enough now that he’s set up an automatic delivery renewal, and still, somehow, some days, she’s on a rampage because there’s not enough coffee.
I look to the ceiling as the drip slowly, torturously teases me, and quirk my brow at the sound of a shower running. And giggles. And obnoxious shushing.
Kit’s getting her hit elsewhere today.
I don’t begrudge my brother and new sister-in-law their happiness. They worked hard for it. They deserve it. But it’s still a hard pill to swallow when I know I’ll never find that happiness. I’ll never have what they have, and as each day passes, as my belly grows and my feet become invisible, it becomes harder and harder to smile when they giggle and touch.
I won’t ever have that, but I do have Bean. I’m making that enough for me. Find the silver lining. Find my own happiness. Redefine that shit and make it enough.
I sigh as the coffee moves slower than a snail on Ambien. There has to be a better way. It’s the twenty-first century.
I’m adding an automatic coffee machine to my Christmas list.
Pregnancy hasn’t been unkind to me. I was nauseous in the early days, but that only lasted a short while. I’m not uncomfortable. Bean kicks around excitedly, but I’m tall enough that he’s not squished. My hair has never looked better. I don’t have pimples. I’m sleeping decently, though I’m waking a little earlier than usual. I have no stretch marks,yet,except one that sprouted from my belly bar. I don’t have swollen feet and I can walk just fine.
Overall, except for the fact this pregnancy was completely unplanned, I got a really good deal.
“Morning.”
I jump in fright at Jack’s low grumble, and burning my hand on the hot coffee, I jump a second time and whip my hand back. “Ouch, shit!”
“Crap. Sorry.” He moves to my side and takes my hand in his. He’s sixteen, almost seventeen, but he’s not aboy. Taller than me by several inches. Broader than me by double. Dark blonde hair hangs in his eyes as he studies my pinkening skin. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“S’okay.” I pull my hand from his and turn back to my half-filled mug. Placing the pot under the drip, I turn and lean against the counter and rub soothing circles along the side of my belly.
Waiting for his own mug to pour, Jack stands on the opposite side of the counter and watches me rub my belly. You’d never know he wasn’t one of the original group of brothers. He might be a whole decade younger than Bobby, but anyone who doesn’t know our family would never guess he’s still a teen and only brand new to the family.
Jack watches me absentmindedly. Like he’s daydreaming. The movement of my hand sending him into a meditative relaxation as he waits for his coffee.
Ever since the shock of my pregnancy announcement wore off, Jack was the first of my brothers to truly come around and get excited. He rubs my belly at least once a day. Asks to name him Jack. Asks to be godfather, Jack De Niro-style.
Considering our connection is weak at best – he’s my brother’s best friend’s wife’s brother – he’s taken on his role as uncle and won’t give it up without a fight to the death.
It’s cute.
