Madness I say.

I knew I had to be going insane. I was talking to God and I swear the answers I got back sounded suspiciously like Sir Alec Guinness. I was working back in the bar, but no where near the booze, instead I was doing the accounting. A desk and a big damn belly that wouldn’t fit under it.

“Patience my child” Sir Alec said.

Fuck that, I had been crying for nearly three days straight. I was sleeping next to man that I had never made love too. I really can’t blame him, who the hell would want to fuck me? Pregnant with some party boys baby and growing disgust for life in general. It wasn’t fair that Don was stuck with me—fuck that, he stuck himself with me. I didn’t ask, did I?

It was almost happy hour and Don would be shooing me out the door to go home and rest. Instead of waiting I finished up my work, and locked the receipts back in the safe.

When I walked out of the office and saw Don talking to a familiar man, my heart turned over in my chest. I took a step back and without realizing it I put my hand over my stomach. The man turned to me and Don gestured in my direction with the dish rag he was holding.

“My girlfriend.” He said smiling at me.

Shit

The man who I had hit over the head nearly eight months ago was looking at me up and down, but he didn’t see me. I had pregnant belly and was wearing hot pink and had curls in my hair that I still hadn’t cut. He turned back to Don and said thank you then left.

I didn’t realize I was shaking until Don crossed the room to me and stroked my arms up and down.

“It’s ok.”

I shook my head negative.

“I’ve got to go, I have to get out of here.”

He didn’t recognize you, you don’t have to go anywhere.

“What the fuck did he say to you?”

The wait staff poured into the front door, a loud burst of chatter and bullshit.

“Let’s get you home.”

Don helped me out to the car, which these days was suspiciously a Jeep Grand Cherokee, the Jag had disappeared—I didn’t ask.

I couldn’t look at him on the way back to the house and didn’t get out to walk me to the door which was his norm. When I looked at him expectantly he spoke hesitantly.

“Are you going to be here when I get home?”

I nodded. Where the hell would I go anyway?

By 9 P.M. I was asleep. I had been severely put off after reading a short story about a woman who is depressed because she killed a friends baby on accident—no shit. That’s the kind of crap you’re not supposed to recover from—why right a story about it?

I think creativity is just another word for madness. Fear crept into my dreams along with the dead baby that turned out to be mine. I woke up screaming and fighting with the covers.

I don’t even think he woke up but Don hauled me back down by his side, and hooked his leg in mine and resumed snoring. He had probably only been asleep and hour, but I was ready to get up and start climbing the walls.

Instead I watched the sunrise with the weight of his arm resting on my side.

I thought about a lot of things. Like the first man who I thought was the love of my life. Shit, what the fuck did I know, I was only 19 and fell for his victim bullshit. You know, his wife was an evil bitch who wouldn't let him see his kids. Worst of all when his ex-wife showed back up I actually believed his lies, that they weren’t fucking and that they were just trying to make thing work for their children.

It was my fault that I was surprised when he said he had nothing to give me, and that I deserved better. Yeah right, two months later was shacked up with his ex with another brat on the way.

Sometime between sunrise and Don waking up to cook me breakfast I realized I had become one of the bitter bitches I despised.

So over a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, before I could catch myself I asked Don to marry me.