“Yeah lady, sure. I’m so fucking sure. That’s true for some people and I applaud their decision to take control of their own bodies and make the choice they think is best, whether for the babies they carry or for themselves. Those women are strong and brave but they aren’t me. My body, my choice, and I’m keeping my baby. Fuck anyone who stands to tell me otherwise.” I’m fully yelling now, and a little surprised that no one has called security on me. Adrenaline is pumping hard through my body and I’m ready to fuck this bitch up. I get that this is her job but she’s super shady and creepy and I don’t like her.
I knock my chair over as I move to leave, slamming the door into the wall as it opens before turning abruptly to face her again. “You should be ashamed of yourselves for trying to manipulate the situations at hand instead of genuinely caring about your clients and trying to help them through what must be a very difficult time. These kinds of decisions aren’t to be made lightly and even those who know what they want, will likely still feel an effect of their choices at some point in their lives. They deserve to be helped by someone who cares about them and not whatever scheme you’re running. They deserve to be helped by someone who they can trust to guide them as they grieve, mourn, or even rejoice whatever they’ve decided to do. You are scum and I hope you get back whatever harm you’ve caused a hundred times over, past, or present. Karma is definitely coming for you, bitch.”
Three
People are the fucking worst
Aria
May 2017
“What in the actual hell is wrong with you? Do you have some sort of short circuit in your brain that makes you think that what you’ve done is actually an okay thing to do? Come the fuck on! No one, and I do mean no one is that stupid. It has to be impossible that I actually came from you. How are you even my mother?” I scream at my mom, running out of steam from this god awful day.
This pregnancy hasn’t only made me queasy but totally and utterly exhausted as well. I’ve been screaming at my mom for about a half an hour now, barely capable of waiting until Gram pulled my little brother out of the apartment before going in on her. It doesn’t matter what I say, she genuinely doesn’t understand what she did wrong. She doesn’t want to help me; I should’ve already known. My mother is a joke and about as self-serving as they come. She just doesn’t want people to know that her daughter is about to be a teen mom. How would that look to her friends? You'd think it wouldn’t matter considering who she is. She can’t hold a job. She can’t be bothered to show up to school functions or performances. She mostly sits in her bedroom, watching old reruns of Jerry Springer and making her nails look good. Admittedly she can do them better than anything you can find in a salon.
She doesn’t cook. She only cleans enough to satisfy anyone who may stop by to visit. It’s all fake—a front, sweeping the neglect and mild abuse under the rug. I’ve got it better than most, I know that. My brother spends most of his time at his dad’s house so I find small comforts there, even if his dad is basically the devil in disguise. He may hate me, but he treats my baby boy all right and he’s better than mom’s new husband. Her most recent marriage is weird as fuck. I can’t tell if she’s a beard or what, but he gives off major pedophile vibes and I don’t like him near my brother. He’s been noticeably absent lately though, so at least I don’t have to worry about that.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Who could be knocking? Everyone we know just walks in. I don’t have the energy for a neighbor that needs sugar. Maybe my screaming got the cops called on us?
Damn it, here we go.
I get the door but only open it slightly and peek through a small crack, just to be safe, only to come face to chest with Benji. Only this isn’t the guy I’ve known these last couple of months. This guy is wearing Army fatigues. What. The. Fu—
“Ahem.” A feminine voice comes from behind the tall guy I once thought I knew, who’s now blocking my view.
I peek around him and notice two women standing just behind my ex-boyfriend.
“Well, it appears as though we’ll need to make our own introductions. Hello Aria.” The older of the two women says. She looks to be about my grandma's age and the other woman closer to my own mom’s age.
“Uh, hello?” I say, although it comes out more of a question.
“My name is Lena and this is my daughter Kimberly or Kimmy for short. I’m Benjamin's grandmother and this is his mother. It’s nice to finally meet you. May we come in?”
I look up to Benj, thoroughly dumbfounded at their presence.
“Yes, of course. I’m a little confused, but not a complete asshole.” I say, making space for them to join my mom and I in our living room.
“Please, make yourselves at home.” I give them a thin smile in an attempt to be polite, hopefully hiding the fact that my patience is running thin.
“Not to be rude, but why are you all here? And Benj, what are you wearing?” I ask, my mind feeling like it’s on the verge of a meltdown.
“Jake gave me your message. At first I lost my cool and almost didn’t reach out at all, but then I contacted my family to ask for advice. If you are having my baby, I’d like the chance to make things right with you. I joined the Army, effective immediately, I’m about to be shipped off for training in Kansas. In the meantime, I’d like to keep in touch and attempt to rebuild our relationship. When I’m finished with training, I’d like to marry you.” He says this all with a straight face, and how he manages I have no idea, because this has to be a joke. I’ve been fooled by him before. I don’t feel the need to do it again.
I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t believe a single word that comes out of his mouth or if I’m falling into a state of deliriousness from exhaustion but I let out a horrible, obnoxious laugh. It’s so loud and I can’t stop it, even though I want to. Based on the looks of everyone’s faces, he’s serious. It’s that exact awkward moment that my mother feels the need to chime in.
“Of course she’d love to marry you,” she coos.
Upon hearing my god awful braying laughter, she turns to me horrified that I might have messed up her chance to pawn me off to a military man. Without any subtlety whatsoever, she mouths, “knock it off.” Which only makes me laugh harder.
By the time I’ve caught my breath, everyone is staring at me with variations of confusion, disgust, and anger.
“Absolutely not,” I wheeze out. “Why in the world would I marry you? I don’t evenlikeyou. It’s only because I fell lust first into a vapid and immature relationship with you that I’m even pregnant at all. My hormones got the better of me after the anger and hurt from someone else. It was channeled into a sex fueled haze that you happened to be a part of, and one that wasn’t even that good. You’re as selfish in bed as you are in your life. I’m also under no illusions that you like me either. No thanks, I’m not interested in a relationship with you outside of what I hope is mature and effective co-parenting. You’re manipulative and deceitful and wholly untrustworthy. You are welcome to be in this baby’s life as much as you’d like, but I think it’s best if we don’t make a second attempt at this hot mess you somehow thought was a real relationship.” I say as I glare at him. Not because I hate him. I don’t. He did what he did and he has to live with that being who he is as a person. But I won’t let him use his charm and family’s influence to persuade me into something I don’t want. That won’t be any more healthy for the baby than it would be for us.
“Perhaps we can come to an arrangement then?” His mom finally speaks.
“Oh yeah, and what’s that? To be perfectly honest with you, I’ve about had my fill of offers and arrangements today so, fair warning, you should tread lightly.” I look her way, one eyebrow raised in question.
