Before you knew

136. No good.

The thunder rumbles as I lay on the duvet, it being to warm to get under.
I have not idea on what clays thoughts on having a child are.

Easier not to know,
Hard to keep guessing.

Clay walks in, drying his hair before he lays down as well, the bed shifting under his weight. One light dimly lights up the room. 'Should we-' I stop talking as Clay moves my shirt up and leans closer to my lower stomach. His head moves to rest on me. As if he wants to hear the truth from within me, he takes a deep breath and holds it to listen in pure silence.

I watch the damp blonde hair as he moves to kiss my belly.

'I don't want to loose this.'

He mumbles against my skin, and makes my chest ache.
'This wasn't supposed to happen, Clay.'
I watch as he turns to me, seeing the calm and sad smile that dances on his face.

'But it did.'

A breath leaves my lungs, taking away heaviness of the situation.
It did.

'Our lives are going to completely change.' I look away in defeat. 'And we haven't been together that long.'

He moves to lay down next to me, the springs in the mattress groaning at the new weight that's added.
'It's our own fault.' Painful grief of the easy life we had before this fills my heart with desire of being young again.

Six years old, running through our backyard with our family dog, waiting for the rain that the forecast had been expecting.

Drip, drip, drip.

As the pattern starts, and the light drops fall onto my skin, and my young heart giggles with satisfaction. The build up of rain making our dog shelter under the veranda that holds pretty purple and white flowers. Not a care in the world, spinning in my own little universe.

My biggest concern, at that time, being what my mom had decided to cook for dinner. Peas, spinach. Two of my least favorite that my sister adored, so I had to eat it as well. As terrible as it was for younger me, it feels like a wish to have that be my biggest concern now.

'What if I.... don't want this.'

The words are careful, but from the darkest parts of my heart, and clays eyes sadden with every word.
'We can do this, you and I. Why would you not?'

The forty weeks of pregnancy,
The morning sickness,
The big belly that is guaranteed to get in my way.
The aching of my back as I carry the weight of life.

Work.

Work.

'I just...

I don't see anything good in this.'

Clays brows knit together and he moves to lay on his back, staring at the wooden ceiling of the guest bedroom in my sisters house. What if he wants this and I don't?