& Sometimes Life Isn't Fair but I Will Always Love You
I Have To Tell You Something.
The funeral was days later, and my heart was still raw. Wearing my nicest black dress for him, I laid that red rose on top of his casket, the ring on my finger burning from the pain.
That was the last time I had been to his grave. It’s been weeks, and still, my heart couldn’t bare the pain to go and see him. I knew I should, but I just couldn’t.
Now, as I lay on my bed, heartache radiating my entire body, I couldn’t help but think of the first time that Brandon and I had first had sex. I knew it would just hurt more to think of him, but I had to. I had to remind myself that he existed, because if I lost that, then I had nothing.
Tears fell down my cheeks. I was past the point of sobbing, my body was too week for that.
It’s been three weeks since he died, and I had barely moved from this position; laying face down on my bed, my face shoved into a pillow, depressed.
I no longer sobbed, wept, or bawled. I just cried. I just laid there and remembered him, every memory causing a new batch of tears to fall down my cheeks. I couldn’t tell you the last time I had showered, or that I had gone to school. I wasn’t going to school anymore, I was just home schooling, but right now I wasn’t even doing that.
I was too depressed.
Before my thoughts could go any further, I began to feel nauseated, jumping up and running to the bathroom and throwing up.
This had been happening all the time, recently. I didn’t think anything of it, the naïve side of me just linking it to the depression.
I decided to take a shower, after throwing up I felt even more disgusting than usual, so I cleaned up.
It was in the shower that I realized it. It was then that I realized what had happened to me.
We had had sex plenty of times, and always used condoms, but that first time, that first time we didn’t. That had been almost three months ago.
Almost as if to prove myself wrong I looked down at my stomach and saw the slight hump coming out of my abdomen.
Without a second of hesitation I was running out of the shower, throwing on a sweatshirt and winter jacket, yoga pants and my Ugg boots. I grabbed my wallet and sprinted downstairs and took the keys to my mom’s car. Her and my dad were at dinner tonight, and Tyson was at a friends, they wouldn’t even notice the missing car.
I drove to the drug store, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles went white.
I parked haphazardly in the parking lot and ran inside, finding a pregnancy test and buying it, ignoring the condescending looks I was getting by the faculty for being a teen and possibly pregnant, and just went to the bathroom, closing myself in the handicapped stall and using the pregnancy test.
I set it on the toilet paper dispenser and pulled my pants back up, sitting curled into a ball against the stall door, awaiting my answer.
After what felt like a lifetime, the two minutes were up. I frantically grabbed the test and looked down at the test.
A part of me was upset as I stared down at the test, upset and scared, but another much larger part of me was relieved.
Taking a deep breath, I put the test back in the box, and took it with me out to my car, knowing that there was only one place in the world that I needed to be right now.
_________________________________________________________
The cold air nipped at my nose as I walked through the grass. It was actually warmer than usual for this time of year, there should have been snow on the ground, but there wasn’t, just hard, frozen, grass underneath my boots as I crunched over it to get to my destination.
I stopped once I reach it, my hands in my pockets for warmth, sitting down on the ground Indian style right in front of his grave stone, the wind blowing a violently cold breeze through my hair.
I smiled, touching the granite stone. I traced over his name with my finger, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“Brandon.” I whispered at the gravestone, praying for him to hear me.
I pulled the pregnancy test out of the box and set it in front of the gravestone.
“I have to tell you something, Brandon.” I said, tears freely rolling down my cheeks as I gathered up the courage to say the next words.
“Baby, I’m pregnant.”
That was the last time I had been to his grave. It’s been weeks, and still, my heart couldn’t bare the pain to go and see him. I knew I should, but I just couldn’t.
Now, as I lay on my bed, heartache radiating my entire body, I couldn’t help but think of the first time that Brandon and I had first had sex. I knew it would just hurt more to think of him, but I had to. I had to remind myself that he existed, because if I lost that, then I had nothing.
Tears fell down my cheeks. I was past the point of sobbing, my body was too week for that.
It’s been three weeks since he died, and I had barely moved from this position; laying face down on my bed, my face shoved into a pillow, depressed.
I no longer sobbed, wept, or bawled. I just cried. I just laid there and remembered him, every memory causing a new batch of tears to fall down my cheeks. I couldn’t tell you the last time I had showered, or that I had gone to school. I wasn’t going to school anymore, I was just home schooling, but right now I wasn’t even doing that.
I was too depressed.
Before my thoughts could go any further, I began to feel nauseated, jumping up and running to the bathroom and throwing up.
This had been happening all the time, recently. I didn’t think anything of it, the naïve side of me just linking it to the depression.
I decided to take a shower, after throwing up I felt even more disgusting than usual, so I cleaned up.
It was in the shower that I realized it. It was then that I realized what had happened to me.
We had had sex plenty of times, and always used condoms, but that first time, that first time we didn’t. That had been almost three months ago.
Almost as if to prove myself wrong I looked down at my stomach and saw the slight hump coming out of my abdomen.
Without a second of hesitation I was running out of the shower, throwing on a sweatshirt and winter jacket, yoga pants and my Ugg boots. I grabbed my wallet and sprinted downstairs and took the keys to my mom’s car. Her and my dad were at dinner tonight, and Tyson was at a friends, they wouldn’t even notice the missing car.
I drove to the drug store, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles went white.
I parked haphazardly in the parking lot and ran inside, finding a pregnancy test and buying it, ignoring the condescending looks I was getting by the faculty for being a teen and possibly pregnant, and just went to the bathroom, closing myself in the handicapped stall and using the pregnancy test.
I set it on the toilet paper dispenser and pulled my pants back up, sitting curled into a ball against the stall door, awaiting my answer.
After what felt like a lifetime, the two minutes were up. I frantically grabbed the test and looked down at the test.
A part of me was upset as I stared down at the test, upset and scared, but another much larger part of me was relieved.
Taking a deep breath, I put the test back in the box, and took it with me out to my car, knowing that there was only one place in the world that I needed to be right now.
_________________________________________________________
The cold air nipped at my nose as I walked through the grass. It was actually warmer than usual for this time of year, there should have been snow on the ground, but there wasn’t, just hard, frozen, grass underneath my boots as I crunched over it to get to my destination.
I stopped once I reach it, my hands in my pockets for warmth, sitting down on the ground Indian style right in front of his grave stone, the wind blowing a violently cold breeze through my hair.
I smiled, touching the granite stone. I traced over his name with my finger, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“Brandon.” I whispered at the gravestone, praying for him to hear me.
I pulled the pregnancy test out of the box and set it in front of the gravestone.
“I have to tell you something, Brandon.” I said, tears freely rolling down my cheeks as I gathered up the courage to say the next words.
“Baby, I’m pregnant.”
♠ ♠ ♠
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