Bite Your Tongue

3:40 P.M.
Brian;;

“Ooh! This is so exciting, isn’t it?!”

I tried to assume a facial expression that didn’t suggest that I was about to start projectile vomiting all over the doctor’s office.

“Yeah,” I said. “Exciting.”

Zoe gave an elated giggle, and her hand tightened around mine. I waited until she wasn’t looking to roll my eyes. I didn’t understand what she was so excited about; all we were doing was finding out the sex of our baby. I guess I should have been as excited as she was, but I wasn’t, and though I’d put on a happy face for Zoe’s mom when she’d picked us up from school, each time I’d had to feign excitement felt like being subjected to a cruel and unusual punishment. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, now I had to look at her stomach, all gross and slimy-looking with whatever weird liquid they’d rubbed onto her skin. Pregnancy might have seemed like it was all rainbows and butterflies, all glowing skin and feeling the baby kick, but up close, it was just disgusting. I didn’t tell Zoe that, though. I knew she would either start crying or start screaming at me—or both—and I really wasn’t in the mood to deal with that nonsense.

We made it through the appointment without any major incidents. The ultrasound technician moved some odd device around on Zoe’s stomach until the screen showed a somewhat clear, brownish-gold image of our baby. It was obviously a girl—unless it had an invisible secret penis, or something—which made Zoe and her mother both very happy. I didn’t really care what gender it was; a boy would have been just fine, too. I acted thrilled, though, and that seemed to please Zoe. When we left the doctor’s office, she was practically skipping.

As we got into the car, she talked constantly about all of the incredibly boring details we could now plan out. I didn’t know what made her think I gave a shit about what shade of pink she was going to paint the nursery, or about what kind of blanket she was going to buy, but even as I stared out the window, hoping she’d shut the hell up, she kept talking. By the time we pulled into my driveway, I was ready to scream.

“…And we can buy clothes, now! Oh my God, I’m going to get such cute clothes for her. It’ll be so much fun—”

Mrs. Windham turned around in her seat to look at us.

“I have to go and pick up some groceries,” she said. “Zoe, you’ll be fine if I leave you at Brian’s for a bit, right?”

No. No! Please, God, no—

“Sure!”

Fuck.

“Okay. I should be back in an hour or so.”

We climbed out of the car, and as she left, I silently cursed her to the fiery bowels of hell. Of course she would leave Zoe at my house. She was already pregnant, so it wasn’t like we could get into any more trouble, right?

Sighing, I dug out my house keys and unlocked the front door. Zoe waltzed right in like she owned the place—and she was still talking.

“So I think we can start narrowing down names, now. I want something unique, but not too unique, you know? I don’t want her to be a freak or anything.”

I mumbled that that sounded fine and made my way over to the TV, desperate for a distraction. She followed and sat down on the couch next to me.

“And now that we know it’s a girl, we can start planning the baby shower, too!”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

“What the hell do you need a baby shower for?” I asked irritably.

“No reason, really. They’re just fun! Plus people will bring gifts for the baby, and I won’t have to spend all this time shopping with my mom and dealing with the constant flow of second opinions she dishes out—”

“You don’t need a baby shower. Your parents have money, so it’s not like you have to rely on other people to give you baby stuff. And can’t you just order online if you don’t want to shop with your mom?”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not the point, Brian. The point is that I want a baby shower.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I gave her an incredulous look. “Do you really expect me to help out with this? I don’t know or care to know anything about baby showers, Zoe.”

She looked at me for a long moment. Then she shrugged her shoulders, turned to face the TV, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Fine,” she said.

“Fine?”

It was never that simple with her.

“I said it’s fine, Brian. If you don’t want to help, then don’t. I just won’t have the stupid shower.”

“Uh…okay.”

She seemed like she was really, truly okay with it, so I didn’t press the issue any further. I concentrated on finding something interesting to watch. I’d been scrolling through the movie offerings for a minute or two when Zoe suddenly got off of the couch and went into the kitchen.

“Do you need something?” I called after her.

“Nope. Just looking…”

Her tone was light—casual, even—but there was a strange undercurrent to it that made me get up to go make sure she wasn’t doing anything too crazy. I found her standing in front of the refrigerator with her hands on her hips, frowning slightly.

“What are you—”

“Aha!” she yelped triumphantly. Before I could ask her why she was so happy, she snatched something off of the top shelf. It took me a few seconds to realize what it was, and when I did, I nearly had a heart attack.

“Zoe!”

Smiling, she pulled a bottle out of a six pack of Miller Lite. “Yes, Brian?”

“What the hell are you doing? That’s beer!”

She laughed. “I know that, silly. I’m thirsty.”

“You’re pregnant! You can’t drink beer!”

“Says who?”

“Says…well, everyone with a functioning brain!”

She gave a casual shrug and turned her gaze back to the bottle. “Help me open this thing, will you?”

“No, I will not help you open that!” I moved to grab the bottle from her and she scurried backwards. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“Nothing. I’m just thirsty.” Suddenly, she lifted the bottle into the air and brought it down hard on the edge of the counter. The top of the bottle broke off, spraying shards of glass and a small amount of beer onto the floor. “Also,” she said. “I would really like a baby shower, Brian.”

I just stood there for a moment and let the words sink in. Then I blinked and came to my senses, realizing that it probably wasn’t a good idea to be zoning out when there was a hormonal pregnant girl with a broken beer bottle standing mere feet away.

“Zoe,” I said carefully, hesitantly. “Put the bottle down.”

She let out a peal of mirthless laughter. “I’m not going to hurt myself, Brian. I’m not that pathetic.”

“I’m not worried about you hurting yourself with it; I’m worried about you drinking it!”

The corners of her mouth curled up in a menacing smile. “As you very well should be.”

“What the hell—”

She stepped forward and put her finger over my lips. “You seem to have misunderstood me, Brian,” she whispered. “When I said that I wanted a baby shower, it was not meant to be a suggestion. I meant that you’d better help me with one, or there will be…” She paused, glancing at the beer bottle. “Consequences.”

“But you said you were fine with not having one!”

Zoe tilted her head to the side. “When did I say that?”

“Like ten minutes ago!”

“You must be mistaken.”

“But—”

“I WANT A FUCKING BABY SHOWER, BRIAN!” she shrieked. Her face was beet red, and she was practically spitting. “Promise me one, or—or I’ll drink this entire bottle, and our baby will win first prize for best case of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome!”

I slowly took a step backward. “Just…just calm down, okay?”

“PROMISE! YOU HAVE TO PROMISE!”

“Okay, I promise!”

“YOU SWEAR?!”

“Yes, yes, I swear!”

In an instant, she brightened. She walked over to the trash can and dropped the bottle in before turning to face me, smiling radiantly.

“All right, then! Now that that’s settled, why don’t I make us some brownies?”

I looked at her, my face frozen into a mask of shock.

“Brownies?”

“Well, yes. Unless you’d prefer cupcakes. I just feel like baking. Do you guys have brownie mix?”

“Um, yeah, I think so…” I said slowly. “It should be in the cabinet over the stove.”

Zoe clapped her hands together. “Excellent!”

She quickly found the box of brownie mix and busied herself with locating all the necessary ingredients. For a few seconds I just stood there, wondering if I was the crazy one, now—either I’d been hallucinating for the past five minutes, or she was really that fucking crazy. I didn’t know what to do. I was still shocked from narrowly saving the poor kid from a bunch of birth defects, and I could feel a headache coming on. And when I went to put the beer back into the fridge, it took all of my self-restraint not to grab one for myself. Drinking was definitely appealing at the moment, but if there was one person on earth I had to constantly be on my guard around, it was Zoe. And I wasn’t taking any chances.

Zoe’s mom showed up about fifteen minutes after the brownies were done. She told us that she’d gotten distracted by all the baby stuff in the store, and that was why she’d taken so long. I wanted to kick her in the face for leaving me with her crazy daughter, but instead I just said it was fine, told Zoe to have fun shopping, and refrained from doing a happy dance as I watched them leave. Once they were gone, I went back inside and tried to wrap my head around what had just happened. The brownies Zoe had made were still sitting on a plate on the counter, serving as a chocolate-y, seemingly harmless reminder of her psychosis.

I grabbed a brownie, hoping it’d distract me from how freaked out I was, and sniffed it to make sure it wasn’t poisoned—I’d watched Zoe make them, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d somehow managed to slip a poisonous substance in there. The brownie smelled fine, so I ate it, and then went back into the living room to flop facedown onto the couch.

This sucks.

I hated Zoe. I hated her and her stupid controlling ways, and all I wanted to do was tell her to fuck off. But, as I miserably reminded myself, I was the one who’d gotten her pregnant. And she was going to harm or possibly even kill our baby if I didn’t do what she wanted. So, even though it was about as exciting a waiting for ice to melt, I forced myself to get up, got onto the computer, and typed ‘baby showers’ into Google. After looking at a few websites, however, I was still at a complete loss for what to do. Baby showers were clearly a girl thing.

An idea suddenly popped into my head. Korinne was a girl. And she lived next door. And…oh, right. Despite how happy I was when I was around her—even being around her when she was crying, like she’d been two weeks ago, was better than being with Zoe on her best day—I couldn’t exactly ask her to help me with Zoe’s baby shower. They obviously hated each other. But I really didn’t have any other option. I doubted that Stevie would even talk to me, and though Delia probably would have been willing to help, I knew she wouldn’t have the slightest clue about anything baby shower-related. So before I could talk myself out of it, I got to my feet, turned off the TV, and headed over to Korinne’s house.

I was momentarily surprised by the absence of Jimmy’s car—usually, as I’d so pathetically noticed, he was over every day after school. Today must have just been my lucky day. Besides the whole ‘Crazy Zoe’ thing, of course. I hurried up to the door and rang the doorbell, hoping that it was Korinne and not Elias who’d answer, since I didn’t really feel like explaining things twice. Thankfully, when the door swung open a minute later, it was Korinne standing there in the doorway.

She blinked, surprised. “Brian? What are you doing here?”

I took a deep breath.

“I need your help.”

“…Okay. Do you, uh, want to come in?”

“No, it’ll only take a minute.”

“Okay.” She closed the door behind her and joined me on the doorstep. “What’s up?”

“Right, well…I really hate to ask you this, seeing as you hate each other and all, but…Zoe told me that she wants a baby shower, and I have no fucking clue where to begin, and if I don’t do what she says she’ll…she’ll do something crazy, for sure, and you absolutely have every right to refuse; I just thought I’d ask you for help, because, you know…you’re a girl…and I’ve looked at baby shower websites and there’s so much pink and I have no idea what to do—”

“Relax,” she said. “Why are you so freaked out?”

“Zoe threatened to hurt the baby if I don’t plan her a baby shower.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I know, she’s crazy.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know. That’s why I asked you. Please, Korinne. I’m desperate. You don’t have to go to the shower or anything—you don’t even have to talk to Zoe if you don’t want to; I can get you the information. I just…don’t know who else to ask.”

“Of course I’ll help you,” she said simply. “I’ll probably have to get Stevie to help me, too, but I’ll do what I can.”

I was instantly so happy that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I threw my arms around her in a tight hug, thanking her over and over.

She laughed. “You’re welcome.”

I let go before it got too awkward. Then I thanked her again—several more times, actually—and headed home, feeling so relieved that I could have collapsed.

+++

5:15 P.M.
Korinne;;

“Is he insane?” Stevie exploded. “He wants you to throw her a fucking baby shower?!”

I held the phone away from my ear until she had finished shouting. I’d called her for advice, not to have my eardrums shattered. But it was Stevie. I should have known better. “Yeah…”

“And you agreed?! Are you insane?!”

“Probably,” I said darkly. It was something I’d seriously considered since Brian had left.

“Korinne. We are talking about the girl who tried to get you date raped.”

I sat down on my bed and ran my hands through my hair. “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then why the hell did you say yes?!”

“It’s Brian’s kid too, Stevie. He was really freaked out. It scared me.”

I still couldn’t shake the image of Brian’s panicked face. It seemed permanently ingrained in my mind, even though I’d agreed to do my best to ensure that he wouldn’t have to be so freaked out again.

Stevie gave an impatient sigh. “Let me remind you that you have a boyfriend, Korinne.”

“I know.”

“A boyfriend who probably won’t be jumping for joy when he hears about this.”

“Shit.” I definitely hadn’t thought of that. “Do you think he’ll be mad?”

“Mad about the fact that you now have to spend extra time with Brian to plan the thing? Um, yes.”

I felt like an idiot. That should have been the first thing that crossed my mind upon hearing what Brian asked me to do. Instead I’d just been worried about Brian, horrified that he had to deal with such a crazy bitch. There was something wrong with me.

“Listen, I have to go,” Stevie said. “My mom’s yelling at me to do my homework—something about not even the fashion design schools accepting me if I don’t graduate.”

I laughed. “Go do your homework, Stevie.”

We said our goodbyes, and after we hung up, I set the phone down next to me and fell backwards onto my bed.

What have I just gotten myself into? I had no idea what a baby shower entailed. I barely knew what the purpose was. This was going to suck. I made a mental note to ask Stevie everything she knew about baby showers tomorrow, and sat up, figuring I’d get started on the review packet for my next Chemistry test. As soon as I picked up my backpack, though, Elias shouted something from downstairs.

“What?”

“Jimmy’s here!” he repeated.

I glanced at the clock. Fucking hell. He wasn’t supposed to come over until six.

“Okay,” I yelled back.

I tossed the review packet aside and went into the bathroom for a second to make sure I looked okay. I straightened out my shirt and quickly combed my hair before heading downstairs. The smell of something burning was permeating the area, which meant that Elias was trying to cook.

“Elias?” I called.

“I’m fine! Everything’s fine!”

I stepped cautiously into the kitchen. An pot was boiling over on the stove, leaking yellowish liquid onto the floor. The microwave was beeping; inside it was another pot that was overflowing. Various kitchen utensils littered the counter. Elias was standing over a piece of paper that looked like he’d printed it off of the Food Network website, wearing a puzzled expression.

“Um…”

“Everything’s fine! Maddie’s coming over, so I thought I’d make dinner…”

“Elias…” I tried not to start laughing. “You know you can’t cook.”

“Shut up!”

I actually did laugh, then. I assured him that I’d come help in a minute and went over to the front door. I opened the door for Jimmy and stood back to let him in, starting to smile when I saw him, but I stopped at the look on his face. He looked incredibly upset.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, frowning slightly.

“Why was Brian here?”

Oh, hell.

“What?” I said, closing the door.

“I just saw him leave, Korinne.”

“He needed to talk to me, that’s all.” I walked into the living room and turned the TV on, hoping he’d get distracted and forget about everything.

“About what?” he continued.

Damn. I turned to face him, trying to make my voice sound casual. “Why does it matter?”

“Because it just does!” he said agitatedly.

“Well…okay,” I said, sighing. “He asked me to help him throw Zoe a baby shower.”

“That’s sick.”

“Jimmy—”

“Let me guess—you said yes?”

“Of course! She threatened to hurt the baby if he didn’t do what she said—”

“He could have made that up!”

I rolled my eyes. His whole attitude was pissing me off—it was all I could do not to scoff in disgust. “Really? You really think Brian would make something like that up?”

“Yeah, I do.”

I crossed my arms, looking away from him. There were several seconds of silence, punctuated only by a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by an expletive.

“Do you still have feelings for him, Korinne?” Jimmy asked suddenly.

My heart just about stopped.

“No,” I said quickly.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that was believable.”

“I’m dating you, aren’t I? I wouldn’t be dating you if I had feelings for someone else!”

This seemed to make sense to him. He stopped walking in circles and simply looked at me.

“Are you sure you don’t have still have feelings for him?”

“Yes.”

“Really sure?”

“Yes, Jimmy. Really sure.”

For a long moment, he looked me in the eyes. Then he sighed.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…paranoid, I guess.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“I jumped to conclusions.”

“Yep.”

“Sorry.” He gave me a sheepish grin. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

“Of course not.”

Jimmy let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Let me make it up to you—I’ll…I’ll make you some Poptarts, and then we can watch a Harry Potter movie, okay?”

“Okay, “ I said smiling.

He kissed me quickly and headed into the kitchen to get started on the food. And as I went to join him, I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The dark, anxious feeling of knowing that I’d just told a bit fat lie.