Bottom of the Blackest Hole

I opened the oven and let out a huge grin at my success in making chicken. The smell is delicious. I took it out and began decorating around. I lit up two candles and set it on the dining table. Then I placed one plate setting. The whole dinner I’m cooking was for Josh. Why? Because I was downright bored. Like hell.

He was out with…ugh; dare I say the witch’s name? Yes, Adrianna. They were going over the gallery party that was opening or something like that. I wasn’t really paying attention.

I waddled in the kitchen and popped open a wine bottle. This dinner is going to go great. Just as of cue, the front door open, showing a very, very worn out Josh. He threw his bag on the couch and kicked his shoes off.

His nose flared visibly. “What’s that smell?” I walked over to him. That’s when he freaked out.

“Oh god. What are you doing walking around?!” he yelled and hurried to my side. I flicked his hands away.

“Again,” I started, “I’m pregnant. It’s not like I have no legs.”

“But you’re huge-”

“I mean,” he restated at the glare on my face, “You’re seven months pregnant. You shouldn’t be walking around so much.”

“So then you want me to sit around and eat? Then get bigger? Is that what you want? Is that what you want, a big fat wife?” Usually, my hectic moods would’ve sent him into frustration but now they just amused him.

“Of course not,” he soothed. “Now, what did you cook here?” He said, changing the subject. He pulled out a chair for me to sit.

“There’s only one setting,” he stated.

“Yup,” I grinned, “It’s for you. I already ate.”

“Um, okay then.” He sat down, slowly cut out a slice from the chicken, and then brought it to his lips.

I waited in anticipation as he chewed slowly, observing a little.

“Hmm,” he murmured, “it’s a little salty.”

I got up abruptly. “Eat crap then.” I took the place away and dumped it in the trash. I should probably thank my awesome quote here to Benny, from the show George Lopez. That TV show is funny and the only thing that kept me company besides watching shows like 90210 or Gossip Girl. I swear, kids these days…

He looked dumbfounded at my retreating form into the bedroom before following me.

Later that night, I couldn’t help but think of one question: Where would the baby sleep? I mean…this is only a one bedroom place. Are we going to move? Or…if the baby turned out to be deformed, would he divorce me?

Okay, so that wasn’t one question. It was more like a gazillion.

“Something on your mind?” he muttered beside me. He turned over so he would face me. I stared up at the ceiling.

“Where would the baby sleep?”

He chuckled softly, “Is that what’s in your head?” I nodded.

“Don’t worry about that.” He murmured. I felt his breath next to my shoulder, “I have everything under control.”

“Oh.” Then silence.

“Where would the baby sleep?” I asked ten minutes later. I heard him sigh.

“I told you,” he started, “I have everything under control.”

“Righto,” I mumbled.

“Where would the baby sleep?” I asked again five minutes later.

“What do you want me to say, Bailey?” he groaned. I grinned knowingly.

“Show me where the baby will sleep.” He shifted so he was on his back.

“Now?” he moaned.

“Yes!” I was already sitting and about to get off the bed.

“Stop!” he yelled. Then, the next moment, he was right by my side to help me off the bed. I rolled my eyes unconsciously.

“Is it in the apartment?”

“Of course it is.”

He led me out of the room and then walked me to the hallway that he always never lets me in. We stopped in front of the closet that I knowingly know too well.

“You want the baby to sleep in the closet,” I deadpanned. He smirked.

“No.” He released his hold from my waist, “Stand back a little.”

I half-expected him to push some invisible button of the closet. Instead, he began moving the closet. Dust flew everywhere but I didn’t budge from my place.

Apparently, there was another hallway. He entered it and me to follow. I did slowly. It was dark, until he flicked on the lights. The walls were a baby blue. At the end of the hallway was a human height glass window. I saw the city of New York from it.

On the right side was a door and on the left were two doors. He took my hand and led me into the door on the right.

“This is actually the second bedroom. Um, Dixie wanted it to be our kid’s room so I didn’t have to move.” He said quietly. I patted his hand that tightened on my when he said her name. I understand it was hard for him to be in this room.

It was smaller than his bedroom. There was a ceiling fan above me. He flicked the lights on. There was a large window in front of me. It had a seat, kind of life a patio, for you to sit. There was also a closet on the left side. The walls were painted soft yellow. I traced my fingers on the unfinished painting.

“We didn’t get to finish painting it.” He explained.

The next room across from it was exactly the same except the walls were painted light green and there was a bathroom connected. That would explain the next door.

He didn’t put the closet back to block the unknown hallway. Instead, he said he’ll put it in a storage room the next day. I tried to protest but he said that there was nowhere else to put it.

“Let’s go baby shopping tomorrow, alright?” he asked when he finished helping me get on the bed. I smiled at him.

“Sure.”