Growing Up Might Bring Us Down

I’ve been hanging around the apartment for two days straight, just sleeping, sulking, and eating. Friday, the second day of my stay here, I was sitting on the couch eating a bowel of popcorn and watching a classic DVD, Mean Girls. When Kennedy came home from band practice he flopped down on the open space next to me.

Neither of us talked. Both Kennedy and I sat there sharing popcorn and staring at the television screen.

All was right again with the Girl World when Kennedy decided to speak up with a random outburst.

“He deserves to know.” His voice was low, scared to break through that wall we seemed to have built up, yet there was pure truth pouring out with every word. Truth that I really didn’t want to accept.

I let his words linger for a moment before shrugging, “I guess.”

He saw through me. He saw the hesitation and inability to face him. “Come on, there’s a gathering tonight.” He tried to encourage me with a nudge on my shoulder. With that last word my mind raced with all the other gatherings we have had beforehand and how out-of-hand and fun they all were. “Be my date since Gabi has a test tomorrow.” We were looking at each other. His eyes were pleading with me, he really wanted John and I to work things out with this situation we have here. I can only imagine how practice went, unless Kenny didn’t tell anyone I was here…

I sighed, giving up. “Sure…” I really don’t want to do this, but it’s better now than later. Right? “I really don’t want to do this.” I vocalized for him to hear, averting my eyes to my lap and started playing with the tassels on the fringe of the blanket that was sprawled across my thighs. “I should abort the thing,” I told him, “but that goes against everything I stand for. And if I wasn’t meant to get pregnant this early in life, then I wouldn’t have.” Positive thoughts, Natalie, positive thoughts. You’ll get through this.
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We were in Max’s all-too-familiar backyard. Nothing has changed; probably since none of the guys are really ever home anymore. I was standing next to Kennedy, not like I had much choice in the matter; he wouldn’t let me out of his sight for a second. Kenny was having a deep conversation with Austin Gibbs and Ryan Gose from This Century.

I didn’t need to talk in the conversation. The three of them were avidly talking about music and touring. Out of the corner of my eye, by the couches, I noticed a tall figure in a black jacket looking my way. He was holding a cup, which I assumed to be beer in his hand, his hair was short now. I thought he caught on to my scrutinizing him, because his look turned hard with, what I swore was a small smirk, I looked away quickly.

My actions were enough to make Kennedy, for a second, turn to me, grab my hand in his own, and whisper, “You should go talk to him.” I shook my head no. “Tell him.” I was going to object to his wishes again, but before I could he added, “It’ll be fine. He deserves to know.”

I nodded my head lightly once in defeat.

When I looked back over to see that figure, he was gone. I noticed him making his way to the side porch on the secluded side of the house. I went after him, slowly but surely. I made eye contact with Kennedy to let him know that I was actually going to attempt to do this.
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It was dark on the other side of the house; the only form of light was from the lap hanging from the gutter. He was sitting in the far chair, by the corner so that he was facing out towards the open scenery of lawns and stars.

I weakly called towards him as I approached the porch myself, “John,”

He moved his head to look at me standing almost in front of him. He removed his cup from his lips to speak, “What are you doing here?” His words were meant to be harsh, to scare me a bit.

I mustered up some courage to respond, “Well they’re my friends too you know.” When all his response was to look at me silently and blankly, I motioned to the chair across the table from him, closest to me, “Can I?” he nodded.

We sat in uncomfortable silence before John broke the tension that was flowing between the empty space of our bodies, “You shouldn’t be here, you have finals.” He said it so matter-of-factly, that for a moment I actually thought he still cared. But as quickly as that hope had risen, I shot it right back down with the remembrance of the hurt he caused me before and still today.

“They are the least of my worries right now.” I scoffed.

Again silence struck us. And like before neither of us made an attempt to communicate. He started to shift in his seat and I thought I was going to lose this chance forever.

I looked down at my lap, and played with the fringe of my denim skirt. “There’s- Um,” I started to say, but just couldn’t find the right words to say it in the right way. So I decided the simple straight-to-the-point way would be better. “I, I’m pregnant.”

Not a second later he retorted, “You sure it’s mine.”

My jaw gaped open, “Yes it’s yours!” I yelled back. “You’re the only one I’ve ever had sex with. And come to think of it, I regret it. I regret ever giving you my heart. And now, and now this is what I have to deal with on my own, by myself.” After I finished my speech I slammed my hands on the table, took one looked at John’s stoic face, and ran off. I’m always running lately, always running away from my problems.
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I ran back to the spot where I left Kennedy for only God knows how long ago. And, not too much of my surprise, he was still standing there talking to Ryan and Austin.

Once I got to him I pulled on the sleeve of his tee shirt and whispered, “Kenny, Kennedy, can we go?”

He turned his head and our eyes met. I could only imagine how red my eyes were, I was ready to start bawling. “Yeah, sure.” He replied, grabbing my hand and saying a simple good-bye to the guys. “Come on.” He said as he pulled me along all the way to the front yard where his car was parked.

“What happened?” Kennedy hastily questioned me when we were in the safety of his vehicle.

The tears were starting to fall freely now. “He asked if it was really his.” My words came out shakily, but I he understood nonetheless.

We were driving now, when I started to collect myself. I turned to him and asked in all seriousness, “Am I that much of a slut?”

His brows furrowed for a second, kind of mulling over what I had just said. “You’re not a slut.” He said. “He’s the one who cheated on you, remember.”

“But it still hurts.” I whispered as we pulled into the parking lot.

He shut the car off and turned to me, “I know it does, Nattie. And I’m sorry for that. If he’s being this much of a dick, he doesn’t deserve you or your baby.”

I made my way as fast as I could up to the apartment. I threw the door open, getting a look from Gabi on the couch who tried to ask, “What-“

I ignored her, running straight to my room to cry into the borrowed pillows.