𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖 • 𝕞.𝕔

chapter 14

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   After what had happened with Emma, I had gotten no news from her. Not even a text or a call. I understood feeling rejected sucked, but I needed her. 

   Day after day, I was hoping that everything would be alright eventually, and I was trying. My hardest. I was even following the doctor's prescriptions about food. For the baby. 

I was slowly getting accustomed to the idea of this little baby being born someday. I even caught myself thinking about which clothes I would buy, how long it would take to renovate the guest room in my apartment to make it look like a perfect nursery.

I surprised myself, this wasn't like me. I was more of a pessimist, but at this very moment, I wanted to shake off all of those negative thoughts, and focus on being healthy. 

Because this little person growing inside of me had never asked to be here; and I couldn't stay mad at it for ever.

   I was sixteen weeks in, now. In three weeks, there would be the other scan, and I was scared of it. I knew scans were usually happy, predicting when the baby would be due. It was special, seeing its heart beating, and I was feeling slightly gleeful about going. But also, this second scan would be the one that was meant to detect any anomalies. I was terrified, inevitably apprehensive that our baby would suffer from serious abnormalities.

I wanted it to be fine, I was trying my hardest. It took me much energy to accept it was there in the first place, so how would I react if it wasn't okay? If it had an important health problem? 

I refused to think about it, and most of all, I didn't want to already feel stressed thinking about it this early on.

   I walked through Hyde Park, searching for a familiar figure. The day was way too warm, and I hated Michael for wanting to even go out. I didn't turn him down, though, because I couldn't run away from him forever. I wanted to think that troubled days were behind us, now.

   I finally found him, sitting on a bench. When he saw me, he smiled, and instantly stood up. He was wearing a plaid shirt, and dark, tight jeans. I didn't understand how he could wear such outfits when it was that hot outside, but I didn't question it, and chose to walk rapidly towards him, his arms wrapping themselves around me as soon as he was close enough to embrace me.

I hugged him back, equally as tightly. He smelled his usual scent, rather fresh, something I could get drunken off.

"Your hair smells nice," he then said, pulling back.

"I was just telling myself that I thought you smelled good, too."

"What a coincidence," he smirked. "Let's go and sit down somewhere?"

•••

"The Emma thing is absolutely insane," Michael said, our legs intertwined. "If she's going to react that way when getting rejected, then, what's in it for you?"

   We were both sitting in the grass, the rays of sun getting less and less heavy. It was almost seven in the evening, and the sun was now low, the temperature ideal. I adjusted my denim jacket on my shoulders and shrugged.

"She's my best friend, still."

He rolled his eyes, and smiled, as if to laugh at my naiveness. "Every time you talk to me about her, you just go on about how she makes you feel terrible about yourself and the choices you make."

"She does make me feel like this, but then, we have been friends for years, and you don't give up on friends."

"But you do feel like she's giving up on you," he simply answered, staring in the distance.

I didn't say anything for a while. "You really do know how to shut me up, Clifford."

"I have a feeling that she hates me."

"She really does."

He nodded absent-mindedly. "That would make sense."

"Oh, how lucky are we," I said sarcastically. "At least, I'm pretty happy we are not alone. I mean, we are alone. But together."

   I played with a bit of grass, tearing it nervously. He didn't reply instantly, just smiled back, and I felt as if he understood what I was saying completely, for one of the first times.

"Hey, did you see who's in town for a concert in two weeks?" he asked, out of the blue. When I shook my head no, he continued. "Los Campesinos!"

"That's cool, but let me guess, all tickets are sold out."

"I bet they aren't, come on," he joked. "I really want to see them live, if I get tickets, will you come with me?"

I nodded. "Obviously... But good luck finding them."

"I always, always, always get what I want," he laughed. "Do you not believe me?"

"Of course I do, Michael," I rejoiced. "What time is it?"

"It's seven o'clock."

"We should really head back now, shouldn't we?"

He nodded. "Pizza tonight? Mine or yours?"

"Pizza. Yours."

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