Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Garden of Eden

Whoever said some days are better than others made a gross overstatement. Jane was sitting next to me holding my hand while Pricilla of all people applied my makeup. What the hell was I doing? Don had immediately said yes when I asked him to marry me. He didn’t smile, or jump for joy he simply said yes.

Now I was sitting in our bedroom on the trunk at the foot of the bed eyeing Jane’s champagne and wearing a simply strapless dress that fell “elegantly” over my bump and flat shoes. Jane had taken my hand because they were turning red from my fidgeting.

When Pricilla finished my makeup she shrugged.

“It’ll do”

I held up a mirror to the perfection that was my chubby pregnant face. As I angled my head from side to side I caught the slight smirk of pride of her face. I just had to burst her bubble.

“I look like a Goddamn Stepford Wife.”

Her smirk broke into a full on grin.

“I know, it’s a fucking miracle” she put the rest of her tools away.

Jane was near tears and I tried to ignore her.

“You look so beautiful.”

I still hadn’t cut my hair yet, but somehow Jane had managed to pile it all on top of my head.

“Show time” Pricilla was holding the door open.

Ten minutes later I was married in the back garden of the house I now called home. The guests included Don’s brother, Pricilla and Jane. Not every girls dream wedding, but we had full catered dinner and cake, you can’t forget the cake.

Later in the evening as I lounged across Don’s lap, Pricilla and Jane fought loudly over the Playstation 2 game that I had spent hours mastering, Katamari Damasi . While Don’s brother scowled at me over a the bottle of champagne he was drinking directly out of.

I scowled back at him and rested my hand over Don’s, which had found a willing perch on my stomach. Don must have sensed something because suddenly, after popping and olive in his mouth he announced that it was our bedtime.

It was ten minutes until 9:00 PM. As he stood taking me with him his brother followed me with his eyes. I had heard them arguing earlier, he didn’t think I was good enough for Don. Smart kid, he was right. So when I snuck back down stairs to raid the refrigerator at 2:00 AM and found him doing the same thing, I gave him an earful.

He was standing the Subzero with a spoon sticking out of his mouth. He hadn’t noticed me when I started my rant.

“You’re absolutely right.”

I nearly yelled it and the spoon dropped from his mouth and clamored to the floor.

“Ok” he shrugged.

“I’m not good enough for him, I am not even good enough for most people but I have survived this long on my own and I could survive now but I chose not to.”

“Ok”

“You don’t have to worry about me taking his money, I could give a shit about that.”

I moved until we were almost toe to toe.

“So here is your chance, lay it on me.”

“Wha?”

“The cuckolding, gold digger speech, lay it on me.”

“I don’t give a shit about his money either, I am just worried that your going to take that baby and run and smash his fucking heart.”

“Oh”

I took a step back, pointing my nose in the air as haughtily as possible.

“Shows how well you know me, I would leave the kid with him.”

I waited for a heartbeat before telling him I was kidding.

“I’m afraid for his heart too.” I retreated going back up the stairs without my snack to lie down next to my husband.

Jesus, I had total screwed myself. I was stuck all because I was afraid of becoming a man hating old lady with cats.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

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.

Saturday, August 06, 2005

Shit, Damn, Muthafucka

One month ago when I woke up at Don’s I promptly ran to the bathroom—ok so I didn’t know where it was and I nearly puked on the fluffy rug. Anyway I vomited. Today I was in a clinic with a bitch in starched jacket asking me if I knew who the father was. Jesus H. Christ. I thought of ramming a blade into my belly to cut it out, eating poison or doing as many drugs as I could find. Shit, with my luck I would end up still pregnant and 7 months later taking care of damn retard.

“Are you going to keep it?”

When I didn’t answer right away she woman waved a clipboard in front of my face. I blinked several times.

“Fuck off.” I stood up so fast the flimsy chair flipped over.

I pushed past the Jesus freaks in the lobby telling the young girls, that they could help and walked out. I wasn’t a scared fucking kid anymore, I was pushing thirty and about to go insane. I thought I had the God damn flu, I hurled for two weeks straight it didn’t matter if it was morning or night, besides I had lost nearly ten pounds. When the puking finally stopped I got back to a normal work schedule and didn’t give it a second thought. I hung out with Don on and off, and finally started to relax—now this shit.

There was a comfortable warmth in the city today, while locals fanned themselves and cranked up their cars air conditioning, I let the sun hit my face as I walked.

What the hell was I going to do?

I found myself on a bus to North Beach, I didn’t have anyone else to talk to. Outside of Don’s door I watched as a police cruiser drifted by, all eyes on me. I knocked, and let several minutes pass. I rang the doorbell and when he didn’t open the door I laid my cheek against it. When Don opened it I nearly fell in. He caught me, happily surprised and kissed me gently before returning to buttoning up his shirt.

There were so many things I could have said.

“I need a week off.”

“The stomach thing is back.”

Something, anything but instead I blurted out. “I’m pregnant, it’s not yours.”

He momentarily looked like I slapped him, then recovered.

“James?”

I nodded before wandering into the family room and collapsing on the sofa. Don followed me.

“What are you going to do about it?”

I shook my head, I sure as hell didn’t know and I sure as hell didn’t expect to hear what Don said next.

“Move in with me.”

I froze, the 72 inch flat screen HDTV in front of me reflected my blurry image. For the first time in my life I felt like I needed my mom.

Don closed the short distance to the couch and sat down next to me. I folded into him and sobbed.

Two months later I found myself still sitting on his couch, full of angst with a growing belly and a particular disdain for life. He came home every night, and kissed me and told me it was going to be ok. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. How the fuck did I get here? How the fuck did I let this sweet man become a part of my fucked up life?

I looked at his hopeful brown eyes and I wanted to love him but I was so fucked up that I couldn’t. I was going to fuck this up, fuck the kid up and everything else in between.

The cellar was only half my problem, today I had stared at the wet bar for nearly an hour. The fucking Grey Goose bottle was damn near talking to me.

When I heard the front door shut, I pretended to sleep. I had given in to the Goose and knocked back two shots, I was so afraid that he would find out.

“Savannah, lets go to bed” He pulled me up from the couch.

It was 3:30 AM when Don helped me into bed and went into the bathroom, it finally dawned on me that I had waited up for him. Maybe some small part of me was coming alive, maybe I should leave San Francisco.