All Of Me

9

When I woke up the next morning, I felt a little better. I wasn't queasy at all. Although the doctor said I apparently have night sickness.

I couldn't bring myself to say the words out loud. I could barely think them.

I'm...pregnant.

And I didn't know how.

I sat up on the couch and stretched. Finally registering what happened last night. I had hoped somehow it was just a really bad dream. My life right then was like something you would see in a movie. Totally unrealistic.

I stood up and began folding the blanket that Tripp let me use the night before and laid it over the arm of the couch.

Their living room was a very open space; a large white fireplace took up most of the far wall, cream colored couches sat across from each other, and a circular light wood coffee table sat on a multi-patterned area rug in the center of everything that tied the whole color scheme together nicely.

The flat screen TV was mounted over the mantel and an infomercial was still playing that Tripp left on when he went to bed last night.

They weren't rich, but they weren't poor either. Tripp's mother, Cynthia Sparks, worked for every single thing her and her son had. His father passed away from cancer when Tripp was 9, and his mother raised Tripp on her own.

She would date here and there, but overall, she and Tripp were very close.

I tried to tame my hair back into a pony tail, and headed quietly for the bathroom, as it was quiet and no one was up yet. Tripp didn't have to be up for school, since he finished his final testing last week, and graduation was next week.

I walked in the bathroom and closed the door, looking myself in the mirror.

Graduation.

I'd always dreamt of walking down with my class and graduating, but I doubt that in my current condition.

I took in my puffy, bloodshot eyes, and red lips. Bags lay heavy under my blue eyes and I looked like a mess. I turned on the shower and let the hot water wash away all of yesterday. Well, most of it anyway.

I still can't believe my mother threw me out. My own mother. After everything that's happened in the past three and a half years, she could turn around and throw me out, and with the coldest look on her face. It was heartbreaking.

I knew why. I knew how bad it looked. Who gets pregnant and doesn't remember it? I'm sure she thought I was lying. And the way she looked at Tripp let me know she thought we were hiding something.

I turned off the water and towel dried my hair. Pulling some jeans and a grey tshirt out of my bag,

Oh look, the shirt is the same color as my mood.

I shook my head and walked out of the bathroom, looking at my phone and realizing I had about 45 minutes before I had to be at work.

Cynthia was in the kitchen loading the dishwasher, so I went to say hello. I heard Tripp close the bathroom door just as I knocked on the kitchen door frame. She looked up and smiled. "Hello Sweetie, how are you?" Her smile is genuine, and she doesn't seem to be judging me.

I wonder if Tripp told her.

I nodded, "I'm okay. You look nice." I half smile and pour myself a glass of milk. She laughs a little. She really is beautiful. An average sized woman with short brown hair, olive skin, and beautiful eyes. Cynthia was gorgeous, and her personality matched.

Tripp entered the room in jeans and a blue and white stripped tank top. He gave me a sympathetic smile and squeezed my shoulder. "How are you?" He questioned, concern clear in his voice, and I nodded. "Fine."

"Your mom will come around, Honey. Don't worry. She'll want to meet her grandchild and be a part of it's life." Cynthia spoke and her words startled me. I choked a little and covered my mouth. She gave a concerned glance toward Tripp for help as she closed the dishwasher.

"I just mean that-" She began to backtrack and I waved my hand. "No, it's okay. It is what it is." I tried to smile. I guess that means Tripp told her.

When she silence got awkward, I turned to Tripp and asked if he was ready to go. He nodded and we said our goodbyes to Cynthia.

As I climbed into his truck, I started racking my brain to see if I could remember anything about that night.

Tripp is brushing a towel over my hair and talking in a soothing voice. It relaxes me and I feel really tired. And dizzy. Very dizzy. Then blackness. It's fuzzy, but Tripp came back to check on me. I smelt him, and I felt when he laid down beside me. He talked about...something. I can't make out his words. I felt tired again, and then my memory goes again. It doesn't make any sense, but something happened. I could feel it. Almost. Vague memories of touching or kissing. Nothing clear and I don't remember any voices or noises.

I shook my head and held back the tears as I reminded myself again that the situation was never how I wanted it to be when I had children. To be kicked out of my mother's house, living on Tripp's couch, and not knowing who this..baby's...father was.

It was terrible.

Tripp arrived at Gracetown Cafe with a few minutes to spare, and I was too lost in my own thoughts to notice I hadn't spoken the entire ride.

"Tripp, listen...I'm sorry about last night.." I began, and he shook his head. "Don't be. I want to be there for you. I believe you. Because I don't remember anything from that night either. I'm going to go talk to some people today." He said, his brown eyes are soft and full of...something.

"Everything will work out. I'll have my bed cleaned off tonight." He laughed a little as he pushed some messy flyaway hairs behind my ear and I realized I'd been looking at his eyes for an uncomfortably long amount of time before I cleared my throat and looked away.

He rubbed his neck and I grabbed my purse. "I'll see you around 6." I smiled as best I could and jumped out of his truck.

What was that?