Just Look at the Mess You've Made

Out of everything I do the most, pacing is right near the top of the list. Twenty one days ago my life became a complete and utter mess. And my life wasn't slowing down for me to be able to process it all and become okay with it. But then, how do you become okay with being pregnant?

When you're a boy.

When I first found out, I couldn't believe it. I didn't believe it. There was no way I could be pregnant so I never told anyone, not a single soul knew about it. The only people that knew about it was me and the stick. I couldn't tell anyone, not my mum, not Gerard, not even Bob. I couldn't believe it so how could someone other then me believe it?

Turns out, a lot better and easier then I ever did.

How they found out, I still don't know, but my mum booked an appointment with our doctor and when I went to see her, I realised what for. And they confirmed it, too.

“Mikey, stop stressing about it.”

The voice of Bob brought me out of my thoughts. I was still pacing the bedroom's floor and he was still sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes watching me pace.

“How can I stop? It's impossible, just completely impossible!”

I never asked to be pregnant; why would I want to be pregnant?

“Just take a deep breath, like you do every time we have this conversation. It'll help you feel less stressed.”

“Are you the one with a thing growing inside of you? Are you, Bob?!”

He sighed, shaking his head.

We have had this conversation around twenty times since being here, at St. Andrew's School. Being at this school made me more aware of just how much of a freak I am with being pregnant. The other boys who were also pregnant didn't help ease the thought.

St. Andrew's is a school just for boys who are pregnant. Freaks like me. We have to eat at this school, learn about how to cope at this school, sleep in the dorm rooms in this school, hell we're practically living in this school just because we're freaks.

My pacing was interrupted by Bob standing in my pacing direction. I furrowed my eyebrows in annoyance.

“I know that face, Mikey. How many times do I have to keep saying you're not a freak? Because you aren't, you'll never be a freak to me.”

I groaned before stepping towards the bed and letting myself fall down on it. It's actually not that comfortable when sleeping on it.

“I'm a freak,” I muttered into the covers.

“What is your obsession with the word freak?”

Bob was still standing up when he said that.

Groaning again I rolled over so that I was on my back and facing towards him.

“Because that's all I feel like, Bob. A freak. Where's somewhere to feel normal in this place? Nowhere, everywhere has others like me, the majority further along then I am and some even not as far gone as me! And the one thing I always ask myself is: Why me? I never asked to be like this.”

Sighing again, Bob sat at the edge of the bed before grabbing the hand I was reaching out for him with and pulling me up.

I let out a huff as I seated myself upright.

“There's nothing you can do to change it, so you might as well just accept it, Mikey.”

I crossed my arms against my chest and sighed.

No matter how many days pass, I never get used to the fact that I'm here because I'm pregnant. Maybe because I don't want to get used to it, or maybe because it's a fact I just can't get used to.

“I'm pregnant and I'm a boy, Bob. That's going to take a lot of getting used to before I'm even close to accepting it.”

I rested my head on Bob's shoulder and sighed.

I'm tired now.