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Charle's house was dainty, even more so than mother's house which I now live in alone. I knew one of these days he would ask me to move out so he can have it, which makes sense considering there's three of them. Hopefully, I could receive the rest of the $200,000 before that happens.
I was on a mandatory bi-monthly visit at his house sitting on the tacky yellow couch they've had for two years now. On the armchair to my left was Kate, my sister-in-law, and on her lap was their eight month old baby.
The baby's cries rang in my ears and I gather all my strength to calm my fast beating heart. It was so loud and it was making me angry.
The box of wipes on the table pulled my attention. I could just pick out two and stuff it inside the baby's mouth, like how I did to Andie back in 3rd grade when she wouldn't stop wailing. It was effective, I recall.
Thankfully, Kate placed a bottle of milk in the baby's mouth to shut it up. Charles came back, placing down the three cans of piss they call beer.
"When are you planning to wed?" He asked as he sunk down on the other end of the couch. Gently, he took his baby from Kate, kissing her on the forehead.
"I'm not planning."
"Well, you should. Who's gonna take care of you when you're old? Certainly not me."
"Of course, you're probably dead by then. Otherwise you're too old to even walk without assistance."
Charles raised the baby up, wiggling it lightly. "Your auntie is a bitch."
It giggled. "Ma ma."
Loud gasps followed. "Did you just say mama?" Charles eyes were wide as he glanced at his wife who shared the same enthusiasm. "Kate! Did you hear that? Her first word!" Charles placed down the baby on his lap expectantly. "How about dada?"
The two continued to fawn over their baby, trying to make it repeat to no avail. If I'd have a baby, I'd want her first word to be something elegant like ethereal, not mama. A parrot can say mama better than the baby.
"See how rewarding it is?" Charles beamed at me, showing off the baby. What the reward is, I could not see.
"You can still find a man. I mean, you're half decent. I'm sure there's some desperate asshole somewhere." He sat the baby on his lap, grabbing the can of beer and sipping. "Marry, then have children. It's not too late."
This had been going on and on. It seems as though all everybody can think about when you're near thirty was marriage and children. Was that all there is left to do at that certain age?
The longer I sat listening to him speak, the more my jaw hurt. My eyes caught the box of wipes one again, triggering the urge to shove the entire pack of wipes in his mouth. I sighed, pushing the thoughts away in an attempt to bring myself back to a stable state. "I get that procreating is one of human's biological purpose, but right now it has more disadvantages for me. One, they're expensive to keep. Two, I don't want someone sucking my breasts. Three, I'd need a male to ejaculate inside of me and that doesn't sound appealing. Four--"
"Fucks sake Sabine! Why can't you just be a normal fucking adult?"
"How? Tell me how and I'll do it." If only someone could instruct me, step by step, I could, but everybody expects me to just know.
Charles stared at me with an open mouth. The baby started crying because of his unnecessary outburst. He closed his mouth and turns his attention to the baby, trying to stop it from wailing. I doubted he even had anything to say in the first place.
When the baby did not stop, I decided it was time to go. I could not bear to stay a minute longer in the cramp space.
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Later that day, a ping on my phone notified me of a message from Sophie, asking me to come over at her house so we could watch some animated movie. And so I found myself sitting once again on somebody else's house, though this one is considerably more comfortable than Charles'.
It has been about two weeks since Finn's offer and so far, Sophie was easy to be with. Tiring, but still easy. Lately, I've been noticing her catching her breath far too often even when we're just taking a stroll through town. I wanted to ask her about the illness but I figured her family and friends talked about it with her often and she might be done with the topic.
"Before we start the movie, here." Sophie plopped down beside me, crossing her legs. On her hands was a blue paper bag.
Taking the bag from her, I peeked inside and saw a bunch of shredded white papers. Sophie tapped her fingers rapidly on her thigh. Her eyes looked at me wide with anticipation, nodding her head towards the bag.
I rummaged through the papers and took out a thick cream colored cloth. What is this--
"It's a sweater." The giver bit her lip. "I knitted it myself. I watched so many tutorials on youtube and I had to start over, like, five times to finally get it right."
Oh. It does resemble it. The right cuff was loose and the ends of it was uneven. Although I do not understand why she would give me a sweater during summer. Perhaps I could use it inside her house considering how the ac is turned on all day, definitely not in mine.
"Do you not like it?"
Sophie's voice grew soft and I had to look up and see her pout. "It's not pleasing on the eyes but I like the effort that went to making it."
"You can just say it's ugly." She crossed her arms, eyebrows furrowing.
"It's ugly."
Green eyes glistened and lips trembled, Sophie peered at me through her long lashes like the child I stole a candy from once during halloween.
The next thing I knew, tears rolled down her cheeks but her lips formed a smile. Was she sad? Happy? Could it be what they call 'tears of joy'?
"Sorry, I can be very sensitive." Sophie sniffled, wiping her tears but couldn't stop them.
It was making me uncomfortable but I didn't know what to do. Lost, I picked up the ice coffee from the coffee table and sipped on it as I watched Sophie cry.
