Chicago Is So Two Years Ago, Its All About Vegas Baby

Two days later, I was on the way to the doctor. Seeing as I wasn’t pregnant, I wanted to know what was wrong with me, I still kept throwing up. I’d already been once, and I was going back to find out what the results of the tests were.

‘Harriett Miller?’ the receptionist asked, looking around the semi-formal waiting room.

I raised my hand, and she ushered me into the nearest room. I sat down on the bed, while the doctor looked through my charts.

‘Well, Miss Miller-’ she began.

‘Please call me Harry.’ I interjected.

‘Okay, Harry, I have the results of your tests here. And congratulation’s you’re pregnant.’

‘Huh?’ was the only thing I could manage to say.

‘You’re pregnant.’ She repeated.

‘But how is that possible? I took a pregnancy test, it was negative.’ I told her.

‘Well, home pregnancy tests are never 100% accurate.’ She informed me.

‘Oh.’

I left the doctor’s surgery in a daze. I was pregnant. Mother-to-be, with child, however you wanted to put it. I had another person growing inside of me.

One thing was playing on my mind constantly. Was it Pete’s or Brendon’s?

Pete.

‘Get the fuck out of my way!’ I screamed in frustration at the stupid driver who cut me up as drove.

I was on my way to Patrick’s house; we needed to discuss some stuff with the band. He’d been sort of distant since the end of tour, I hadn’t seen him once and whenever I phoned him, he seemed to be on edge. It was odd.

Arriving at Patrick’s apartment, I jumped out of the car and jogged up the stairs to his floor.

I knocked on the door, waiting for Patrick to answer the door.

A few minutes, there was no reply. I knocked again, still no reply.

I knelt down, placing my hand on the deep green carpet to balance myself. I lifted the large plant pot and revealed the shiny silver key.

After letting myself in, I called out to see if Patrick was home. But, then I heard the shower, which answered all of my previous questions.

Sitting down on the sofa, I started to think about how drastically my life had changed in such a short space of time. A month earlier, I’d had a happy life, a girlfriend and soon-to-be fiancée. Now, I had nothing, I was alone and I hated it.

“Pete?” Patrick emerged from his bedroom, fresh from the shower, his wet hair flopping down over his forehead.

“Hey Rick,” I said as he sat down next to me on the cream sofa.

“You okay man?” he asked me.

“No,” I replied shortly, “I miss Harriett.” I stated, getting straight to the point.

Patrick, didn’t say anything, he just nodded. And that was all I needed.

“I was stupid to let her go, I know she cheated on me, but she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me – and I let her go…”

We slipped into a very heavy silence, neither of us saying anything.

“Do you want something to drink?” Patrick asked me as he got up.

“Sit down Rick, I’ll get myself a drink,” I told him, walking over to the kitchen.

I walked over to the sink to get myself some water, when something caught my eye. It was a note left on the side, the handwriting that was printed onto the paper was oddly familiar to me. I had seen it before, but I just couldn’t place it.

Picking up the note, and re-reading it a sense of realisation dawned on me.

“Patrick! What the hell is this?” I called, angrily at Patrick.

“What’s what?”

“This!” I said, jabbing my hand at the note before shoving it at him.

“Oh, this,” he mumbled, not giving me any direct eye contact.

“Has Harriett been staying with you?!”

All he could do was nod.

“I can’t believe you!” I growled at him.

It was as though someone flipped a switch inside him, the anger he usually kept bottled up, spilt out rapidly.

“Well, what did you expect me to do?! Leave her out on the street?!” he shouted at me.

Trying to calm myself down, I walked towards the door, intent on leaving.

I pulled the wooden door open, on the other side stood a very dishevelled looking Harriett.

“Pete?” she said quietly in disbelief.