Take This to Your Grave

Babette didn't ask me anything, she just drove. She drove me to her apartment, helped me out her car and then inside. She had instructed me to go clean up my face in the bathroom, and I bolted there, locking the door behind me and sitting on the large counter. I heard her sigh, the entire area was dead quiet; she was on the other side of the door and I could hear her soft breathing. Hell, I could hear a pin drop. The pamphlets clutched in my hand were taunting me, laughing in my face.

"What did the nurse say to you?" Babette asked over the door.

Her voice was as soft as her breathing, yet it boomed in my ears. My vision began to fog as I started to cry again, which then led to sobbing. Sobs wracked my frame as I sat there on the sink, crying my eyes out.

I cried and sobbed for what felt like ages, until Chris shoved the door open, causing me to jump and drop the pamphlets. The knob was broken -to which I surveyed later on- and he looked at me along with Babette. He gave a heavy sigh, "I'm calling him, Naomi."

"Don't." I sobbed; but I don't think it came out intelligible.

Chris was gone before I could sob anymore and Babette was suddenly in front of me. Her arms wrapped around me, her lips brushing against the top of my head. The tenderness only made me sob and break down even more.

"Hush, hush, honey. It's all right." Babette cooed, her gentle hands cradling my back, letting my tears ruin her shirt.

"My dad is gonna kill me." I managed to get out in a break of tears. "What the fuck am I gonna do?"

"Take a few breaths and then eat." Babette comforted me into a smile.

"I'm so screwed." I muttered after a short silence. "God, the one thing my dad tells me not to do, I go and fuckin' do it."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Naomi...and this is a pleasant mistake." She pulled back, her palms rested on my shoulders, looking me over.

"How in the hell is this pleasant?!" I shot back angrily. "How? Please, please enlighten me, B."

She sighed, "Babies aren't mistakes."

My stomach cramped at the word "babies". I wanted to throw up.

"This is. I'm a fuck up, I can't do anything right." I shook my head, "My life's over. I...I'll never be able to go to school, Pete'll probably drop me like a ton of bricks, go off and be a goddamn rock star, while I'll be here...without a good, proper education like my dad has been saving up to give me. I'm so far up shit creek, B..." My throat tightened and I grabbed her to keep from falling off the counter top.

Once more, Babette hugged me, patting and rubbing my back, but not saying a word. Words weren't going to be good here, action needed to happen. All the while, I was mentally beating myself up for this. For this careless action; how could I -the most rational of Pete and I- be so reckless and dumb? I was stuck; I would be forever bound to Pete, at 17 years old, with a child.

I wasn't even sure I cared that much about myself, or Pete, to take care of a child. As my empty tears fell against Babette's shoulder, I thought about what my dad would say and how he would react; forget telling my mom, my dad was all I had left. He would berate me and tear me down until only my organs and that fetus were left. Carrying Pete Wentz's baby was probably the worst thing that could be said to him.

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Chris. He said Pete was here, and it made me wonder how long I had been sobbing against Babette. I wondered what Chris had told him, and what Pete was thinking. Chris quickly answered my second thought; "I didn't tell him."

Babette gave my cheek a kiss and patted my arm, "Let's go, Naomi."

I climbed off the counter slowly, following Chris and Babette out of the bathroom and out the hall towards the living room. The couple said something that I didn't catch and left the apartment. Pete was standing by the couch, looking at me wearily, and then worriedly, "What's going on, baby?"

Again, the word "baby" made my stomach clench. I held my stomach a moment, feeling sick; I turned my heel and rushed off to the bathroom. The doorknob jangled as I rushed in, I knelt and immediately began throwing up my light breakfast. Even over the sound of my vomit I heard Pete come in; he knelt beside me, I heard him pick up the pamphlets and then he began patting my back, "Naomi, tell me what's wrong."

He knew, but I was sure he wanted I confirm it. But, I could sense, by tremble in his voice, that he hoped it was something insignificant. I, too, wished it was something insignificant.

"Naomi?" He said my name quietly and his mouth planted soft, open mouth kisses against the side of my head. "You got me...I'm right here."

I groaned and sat back on my heels before ultimately sitting on the bathroom floor. Pete sat with me, his arm around my shoulders, and his ever repeating; "You got me. I love you. You got me, Navy."

I couldn't cry anymore; all my tears were left on Babette's top. I swallowed the specks of vomit and wiped my mouth, "I'm sorry for my breath."

He let out a small laugh, "I don't care, Naomi."

I rubbed my raw eyes, sniffed and exhaled a deep breath, "I think you know." I said finally.

He was quiet. It took him a moment to finally say; "What do you want to do? ...I'll do anything you want."

All my tears weren't lost, because I began to cry again. Pete pulled me into his arms, into his lap and let me cry. He didn't say a word, he just held me; it was a lot more comforting than Babette's embrace -for the fact that I needed Pete. He kissed my head and repeated his phrase from before, telling me how much he really loved me. He said he'd do anything I wanted to do, that this was all about me, not him. I only wrapped my arms around him tighter, crying.

Finally, after a river of tears, I leaned up and kissed him on his neck. He let out a small sigh, "Want me to take you home?"

I shook my head, "I want to go to your apartment...are the guys there?"

"No. Tim's at his folks, and Andy is out. It'll just be us."

Pete and I got up; he helped me rinse my mouth and then I washed the makeup off my face. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders again, pulling me close to him; it was the same gestures he always used, and it made me feel as if nothing was different between us. I wondered when it would change; I would be his baby's mother one day, and we won't ever be like this. He wouldn't love me with the intensity he did now, and it scared me; the future scared me. I could imagine Pete and I not being together, but it was extremely hard to fathom or even think about for more than a few seconds.

We didn't speak as he drove us to his apartment; he lit up a cigarette, making me want to flick it from his mouth. The gross habit he picked up from Leah was deep into his routine and it was starting to make me sick. I didn't say anything, which got me to thinking; would this be the reason I wouldn't be with Pete? Would old habits make me resent him? Would I not want him for the fact that his ex's quirks came with him? -I wasn't too sure, I wanted to believe it wouldn't.

He pulled up at his apartment and led the way in; all the while, his hand clasped around mine. Inside, it was semi-clean and didn't smell as bad as it had before. He seemed to pick up on my thoughts, "I was cleaning up when Chris called me."

I could only nod, and then said; "It smells clean."

Pete smiled at me, "I'm glad, I wasn't sure if it were still lingering, y'know?"

With his hand still around mine, he led me to his bedroom; it was probably the cleanest since he had moved in. He sat me on the tucked bed, and pulled my shoes off, earning a laugh from me. He gave me another smile, "I need to shower, I'm sorry. I feel like I reek."

"I'll just lay here."

Pete watched me lie back, brushed his hand over my hair and kissed my forehead. I pulled a pillow under my head and watched him strip down, grab a towel off the dresser and leave the room. I listened to the hum of the shower, the water hitting the floor and then I sat up; I wanted to be with him, I couldn't stand it any longer. I got off the bed and pulled my clothes off too, feeling a chill; goosebumps invaded my bare skin as I walked from the bedroom, down the hall and to the bathroom. I pushed opened the door, went in and caught Pete just before he stepped in; he looked back at me, "Can I join you?"

He gave a nod, lent his hand out; he and I climbed in, he let me under the water, but I moved back, silently telling him to wash up. He gave me a kiss on my lips, a sweet one that settled the nervousness I felt riddling my nerves and bones. I moved around him, letting him under the shower head and just watched him; he washed up quickly, hair and body, and then turned his attention toward me. This wasn't sexual in anyway, I just needed to be with him; just to hold him, wrap my arms around him.

"I'm sorry." I told him. "I should've...I don't know." I rambled.

"It's not your fault...shit happens, Naomi." His reply was swift and soft. "I should be sorry, I didn't know what the hell I was thinking..."

"We were both dumb." I reasoned.

"Me more than you." He breathed, his wet chest rose against my cheek. "I'm so sorry, Naomi."

I lightly ran my nails up and down his back. "It's alright." My voice wavered; I wasn't sure if it would be or not.

"I love you." He said with his a quiet, passion filled voice. "I love you so much."

I felt a sob building, "What the hell are we going to do?"

Pete shrugged his shoulders and then kissed my cheek, "I don't know, but we'll think of something."

Pete and I got out the shower after awhile and then returned to his bed; he let me borrow some of his clothes so I was comfortable. He lay behind me his arms around my waist and his hand skimming over my belly; "Pete, what do you want?"

"I dunno," he mumbled against my neck, "I'm just doing whatever comes my way. What do you want to do?"

"I want to go to school." I told him, "And I...I don't know what I'm gonna do. I don't want to do it alone."

"Who says you'll have to do it alone?"

"I don't want to burden you...this is a baby--" my throat caught, "My dad is gonna be so pissed."

"Don't worry about your dad, Naomi," Pete squeezed his arms around me, "It'll be okay."

I rolled over and faced him, "What do you think I should do?"

"I dunno...what do you think?"

Our eyes met and I bit at the inside of my lip before asking: "Did you ever think about having kids?"

Pete let out a small exhale of a laugh, "I hate little kids."

"Me too." We both laughed. "Babies are okay, I'm not one that can keep up with toddlers."

"If we have this baby, they'll be a handful," Pete informed with a small laugh, "I was a little fucker when I was a kid."

"I was too."

Pete laughed and pressed his forehead against mine, "Our kids will be assholes."

Even though it felt like our world was crashing down, we were still a little at ease. For only a moment all the fear and stress went away.