“I'm pregnant,” I blurted out.
I
knew I now had his undivided attention, like when he was sweet-talking me out
of my knickers.
“I'm
pregnant, J…”
“I
heard you,” he said, a slight tinge of irritation distinct in his voice.
That’s
not the classic response when the boy who broke your virginity, drunk himself
to a stupor on your squirt and other pheromonal substances that your body
secreted when he was enjoying the shenanigans and went gaga when you showed a
slight hesitation to jump the sack when you tell him that you have just been
rewarded, big time, with a bundle of joy in the making. Aren’t you supposed to
grab each other for a hug, kiss passionately and christen the new status with
one hell of an ecstatic, mind-blowing, archetypal lovemaking?
The
man who had a moment ago sucked on my titties and kissed me down there in
anticipation of another round of filling the crossword puzzle just dropped to
zero degrees Fahrenheit in a fraction of a nanosecond, at the mention of the ‘P’
word.
Well,
I got it. I expected it. All my friends, the ones I had avoided and called
bitches and haters when they complained I was ignoring them ever since I met
this Jimmy guy, had told me they would still be there when the guy showed
himself out and hit the road. Now he had, and he was saying what nearly all men
say, “What are you going to do?”
Yeah,
right. It was my problem. How had I got myself pregnant in the first place? Seriously?
That coming from Jimmy? I didn’t expect him to say that.
“What
are you going to do?” I threw back the question to him.
“It’s
me who asked you.”
“And
I’m asking you. It's yours too,” I said. “It’s our baby.”
“Are
you sure…”
“Jeez,
Jimmy. You are asking me that, like I've been screwing around behind your back?”
“No,
I did not mean that…”
“Then
what? You just got me pregnant. I was a virgin.” Not like ‘I had never slept
with anyone before you, and I never cheated on you, babe’ but ‘I was a fucking virgin,
you idiot, and you messed me up’.
“Yeah,
that I noticed. For God’s sake, how the hell did you get pregnant? We were
using protection always…”
“Perhaps
the condom burst and leaked or something like I swallowed your semen during one
of the blowjobs you so much like…”
There
was a pose, time which I just guessed what could be happening in his mind. Like
how had I got myself pregnant, wasn’t I on pill (maybe I lied about that once),
didn’t I say I was safe (just that one day I wanted to feel skin against skin –
and god, it was awesome), or seeing his dreams of a much more lissome, young and
beautiful wife (undoubtedly not me) coming years later fading before his very
eyes.
“Well,
that poses a problem.”
“What
problem?” I asked.
“I
have wanted to talk to you about us…”
“What
about us?”
“I’ll
be going to college next month, and I thought we should take a break off each
other. Like go out more, see more people…”
I
knew it. He was giving me the boot. He didn’t have to look for excuses. It was
because I was pregnant. Isn’t it what all men do?
Definitely,
that’s what he was doing.
A
fast forwarding movie of my dreams being ruined played in my mind – education,
job, prosperity and a family I had thought we’d have together, a happily
thereafter kind of a thing – everything moving beyond reach forever but a mouth
to feed, a body to cloth and a brat to bring up.
Jeez,
how did it come to this?
Comments
Post a Comment
Did you like the story? Leave me your thoughts, please. Thank you!!!