"Mom." I didn't know what to say or how to say it. I was relatively a good kid. Did well in school, cooked dinner, did my thing. Sure, i was a tad bit on the weird side, but hey, that's me.
"Hmm?" She was bust putting dishes away, doing what I called A Mom thing. I could already tell this would end badly. Mommy-dearest was in a mood again. I could tell. She was in sweatpants.
"Umm..." I awkwardly stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame in my usual stance. I could hear my heart pound. Out with it, then. "I'm pregnant."
The dish she was putting away shattered when it fell the the floor. I flinched, and Mom caught herself on the counter. "Go to your room."
I didn't think I'd ever hear those words come out of her mouth directed at me. "Excuse me?"
"Now." The muscles in her back tightened through her tank top. Even though it wasn't that warm out, that was the only thing we had in common: tank tops. "Haven, go."
Reluctantly, i went, the familiar sting of tears in my eyes. once in my room, I stared at the posters on my wall. I had really done it this time.
The house shook when the back door slammed, making me flinch again. I swear I remained there for the longest time, thinking, crying, and wondering. The only time I think I moved was to uncramp my joints. I guess I either zoned out or fell asleep with my eyes open because I didn't even notice when I wasn't alone.
"Hello, gorgeous," whispered a husky voice at the back of my neck.
I must've jumped higher than Mario when he wants his coins. "Jesus Christmas, Edward! Don't do that!"
"Quit calling me that," he seethed. I held back a giggle, refusing to look at him. "You know I'm nothing like that asshole. He thinks just because he went with a human that got pregnant - not by him, I assure you - and a British punk played him in a movie that he's amazing. He's fraud. His name isn't even Edward Cullen! It's Edmond Callaghan. God."
This made me sit up straight, eyes flitting to my bookshelf. "He's real? There really is an Edward freaking Cullen?"
"Edmond Callaghan," he grumbled."
"He must be a real pussy!"
"For a girl, you swear a lot." he shook his head. "And yeah. Pretty much every bit of action in the books and movies are b.s. The entire story line in "Breaking Dawn" didn't even happen! Well, besides that chick getting pregnant."
"And...?" I pressed.
He just shrugged. "He killed her."
I frowned. "Lovely, Aspen. Just lovely."
"Hey, I ain't gonna lie. You asked." Aspen pulled on my hair gently. "Look at me. Why won't you look at me?"
I shrugged. "'Cuz."
"'Cuz why?" He touched my arm. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I lied. "Just fighting with Mom again."
"Surprise, surprise. Just leave. High tail it outta here."
"And where am I supposed to go?"
"With me." He pulled me on my back so my head rested near his knees, even when I resisted slightly. "You've been crying."
"No, I haven't." I sat up and crossed my arms.
"Yes, you have. Your face is still red, just like it always does when you cry."
"No, it doesn't."
"Shut up, yes it does." I didn't answer. "Talk to me."
I reflexively put a hand to my stomach for just a moment. "There's nothing to talk about."
"If you're crying, then yes there is. Quit shutting me out. You've known me for years and dated me for one and a half of those years."
"Damn it, Aspen." I got up and stood in the middle of my room. "Leave it before I get pissed."
I heard him get up and stand behind me. I stiffened when his arms went around me, around my waist. "You're safe with me. You know that."
"I do know that." It wasn't a lie. I always felt safe with him. Even through the stares we got, the displeasure of others because we were together, the death threats I got (let's hope he didn't know about those), and my own emotional problems, all I had to do was think of him and I knew I'd be okay. I loved him.
He wasn't normal, either. He wasn't even human. Try half-shapeshifter-half-fairy on for size. Oh yeah. I scored big time. I still loved him.
No, I wasn't weirded out when I found out he wasn't human. Truthfully, from the moment I started talking to him, I knew he wasn't normal. That and I sorta believed in the supernatural, or at least hoped it was real. It would've explained some problems in the world. It did. Let's just say that terrorists aren't terrorists and not all murders happen because people are just sickos having fun.
"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong?" He paused and turned me around. I looked like he was about to say something serious, but instead he said: "Your eyeliner is running."
Damn it. I broke away and wiped underneath my eyes. "Sorry. And I don't want to tell you what's wrong because...because... I'm trying to figure things out?" It came out more like a question than anything else.
"Let me help?"
"No, you can't. Just leave it for now please? I'm, uh, hungry."
He appeared frustrated and we just stood there looking at each other for quite some time. Only when I placed a finger on the crease between his eyebrows did he relax. "Fine," he said and kissed my forehead.
"Hot pocket?" I grinned my dark red lips at him.
"Yum."
Tip to all girls out there: Distract boys with food, unless they have an eating disorder (if so, get them help). If you didn't know that, then you're retarded.
