by Tara Sivec
What the hell am I doing? Is some hot chick I’ve fantasized about really worth all of this? I can’t believe I actually thought MY family was crazy. They look like the damn Brady Bunch compared to these people.
I look away from the evil triplets long enough to glance at Molly. Her smile is so big it takes my breath away and that’s all it takes for me to realize she’s worth it. No woman has ever made me want to jump through hoops just to get her to smile. I’ve never felt so tied up in knots around anyone like I feel whenever Molly looks at me. Call it a gut feeling, call it plain old stupidity, but whatever it is, I’m not about to give up now. I knew the moment she told me she wasn’t really pregnant and I thought my heart would burst out of my chest that I would do whatever it takes to see where this thing goes. I want to know everything about her, even if it means dealing with her insane family. What’s a little blood in my urine and drinking my food through a straw as long as she’s there to give me sponge baths?
“Keys?” Drew asks, holding his hands out.
I tell myself everything will work out in the end as I pull the keys to my baby out of my front pocket and toss them across the room to Drew. As soon as he catches them, he runs towards me, ramming into my shoulder as he races through the doorway of the living room and down the hall behind us.
“SHOTGUN, BITCHES!” he shouts right as the front door slams closed behind him.
“Carter, don’t you dare let him shoot any guns while he’s driving!” Jenny warns.
Carter walks over to her and pats her on the head like a puppy without saying anything. He then makes his way to Claire, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Don’t wait up, honey,” he tells her with a smile as she runs her palms down the front of his chest.
“Please try not to get any blood on this shirt. Blood stains are such a bitch to get out,” she informs him with a sigh.
Everyone seems to think this is funny and they all laugh. I don’t find this funny at all. It’s so NOT funny that I think a little pee might have come out of me.
Carter casually sticks his hands in his pockets and whistles jovially as he too rams his shoulder into mine when he walks through the doorway and down the hall to the front door.
Molly pulls away from her mother and rushes in front of me when her father starts to make his way in this direction, and there’s no sense in denying it, I’m pretty positive I’m going to pee my pants.
“Daddy, don’t hurt him,” she warns, blocking him from me and throwing both her hands up in the air to stop him from coming any closer.
“I’m not going to hurt him, Molls,” he promises softly with a smile that’s faker than the baby I didn’t knock Molly up with. “Marco Polo here has nothing to worry about, aside from the fact that the man who currently has the keys to his brand new Mustang felt the need to call shotgun just to make sure he sat in the front seat.”
I forget all about my own well-being and hope my car insurance policy covers three lunatics who purposefully slam a vehicle into every tree they encounter before shoving it over a cliff.
Jim kisses the top of Molly’s head, lingering there for a few seconds before telling her softly that he loves her no matter what. Charlotte starts sobbing loudly from across the room, breaking up the heartfelt moment with huge sniffles and gasping breaths.
When Jim pulls away from Molly and looks over at Charlotte with a raised eyebrow at her outburst, she quickly puts a big smile on her face and waves away his concerned look.
“It’s fine, I’m fine, no big deal,” she says with a hiccup and a smile. “I’m just so happy you still love Molly, even if she screwed up and made a huge mistake that will probably ruin her life, because she’s going to really need you to love her when she gets fat and ugly and no one else will love her anymore!”
She starts crying louder this time and Gavin rushes across the room to console her. Molly doesn’t have any reason to worry about our ability to pull this off since it looks like it will only be a matter of time before Charlotte completely cracks and ruins her own stupid plan.
While Molly and her mother are busy watching Charlotte lose her shit, Jim takes that opportunity to sneak around Molly and her attempt to protect me from bodily harm. He slings his arm around my shoulders casually and leads me quietly away from the women and Gavin.
Maybe he really is all talk, just like Molly told me. I mean, he wouldn’t really hurt the fake father of his fake unborn grandchild, would he?
“Um, I’m sure you already know this, sir, but my car isn’t really big enough for four large men,” I tell him as he opens the front door and we walk through it together.
He takes his arm off my shoulders to pat me on the back good-naturedly, giving me a friendly smile.
“Oh, that’s not going to be a problem at all,” he says with a chuckle.
His good humor is contagious, and I laugh along with him as we make our way down the steps of the front porch and across the lawn to my car. I try not to cringe when I see Drew sitting on the open window ledge of the driver’s side door with his feet inside the vehicle and his fists pounding on the roof to the beat of the rock song he has playing loud enough to shake the entire car.
“Let’s go, fuckers!” Drew shouts to us over the music. “Happy hour at the strip club is over in thirty minutes, and then I’ll have to pay full price for lap dances. Ain’t nobody got time for full-price lap dances!”
Jim puts his hand on my shoulder and leads me to the back of the car, rapping his knuckles against the top of the trunk twice, and I see Carter through the back windshield lean in between the two front seats from his spot in the back. The trunk suddenly pops open and Jim gives me another big smile.
“Nope, no trouble at all with this small, fancy car of yours,” Jim tells me as he grabs the edge of the trunk lid and lifts it open wide. “We’ll all fit just fine because your daughter-impregnating ass is riding in the trunk.”
With a hard shove from both hands against my back, I fly face-first into my own trunk and the lid quickly slams shut on top of me.
“Hold on tight, asshole, it’s going to be a bumpy ride!” Jim’s muffled voice shouts through the closed trunk as he laughs at his own joke.
I hear a car door slam and my engine rumbles to life through the trunk. My body slams against the inside as we take off like a shot, the squeal of tires against the street punctuating how fast we’re going.
Molly’s mom might not be very good at removing blood stains from clothing, but I hope to God she knows how to get the smell of urine out of the trunk of a car.
Chapter 7
– Meat Sweats –
Molly
“Molly, stop staring out the window, he’ll be fine. I’m sure your father will wait until after the baby’s born to kill him,” my mother says with a laugh as I move away from the kitchen window where I’ve spent the last twenty minutes silently brooding.
“Very funny,” I tell her as I lean against the edge of the kitchen sink and watch her rapidly move around the island in the middle of the kitchen. My mom likes to feed people whenever there’s a tragedy, and going by the sheer volume of cold cut sandwiches she’s been putting together since the guys left, she’s preparing for the end of the world.
“It’s the least your father can do,” she continues as she slathers mustard on sandwich number thirty-seven. “Maybe the baby won’t even look like Marco and it turns out to be someone else’s. Then he’s just gone and killed a man for no reason.”
Aunt Claire laughs and I shoot her a dirty look before aiming it in my mother’s direction. “Seriously, mom? Did you just insinuate that I’m a slut?”
“If it looks like a slut and quacks like a slut!” Aunt Jenny pipes up from the kitchen table.
“Oh, don’t give me that look, young lady,” mom warns. “I never said the word slut. It’s not like you got drunk and knocked up at a frat party and never got the guy’s name until four years later.”
“Heeeeeeeeey!” Aunt Claire yells, from her sea
t next to Aunt Jenny.
Mom sets her mustard-covered knife on the counter and glances over at Aunt Claire.
“Really?” she deadpans.
Aunt Claire sighs. “Okay, yeah, that was kind of slutty. Carry on.”
Mom goes back to her work, moving from turkey sandwiches to salami.
“I’m just saying, Molly, we don’t know this guy, nor did we have any idea you were even dating someone. Forgive me for being a little suspicious about your sexual activity.”
I shudder, grabbing the sandwich she just finished and tossed on top of the giant pile. “Please, never say the words sexual activity again.”
The funniest part about this entire mess is that I have no sexual activity for her to be suspicious of. I wonder if she’d go easier on me if I told her I’m the world’s first official pregnant virgin. Well, aside from that whole mother of God thing, but that happened a long time ago, and I’m pretty sure it’s a bit more rare in this day and age.
Figuring I should just shovel food in my mouth before I’m tempted to say something I shouldn’t, I wrap my lips around the sandwich filled with lettuce, cheese and extra salami, just the way I like it. As soon as my teeth sink into the bread, the sandwich is smacked out of my hand and it goes flying across the kitchen.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” Charlotte yells, wiping bread crumbs off of her sandwich-smacking hands.
“What am I doing? What are you doing? I was going to eat that!” I argue, staring longingly at my sandwich scattered across the floor.
I barely ate two bites of my spaghetti at dinner with Marco earlier because my stomach was tied in knots and every forkful of pasta I tried to choke down threatened to come right back up.
“You can’t eat lunchmeat, Molly!” Charlotte scolds with a huff. “Everyone knows you can’t eat lunchmeat.”
I didn’t know I can’t eat lunchmeat. Since when did this become a rule around here?
I really think this pregnancy has made my sister lose her mind completely so I grab another sandwich from the pile and ignore her.
“I’m starving. Go away,” I mutter.
Charlotte rips the sandwich right out of my hands and starts to shake it in front of my face, meat and lettuce falling out of the bread and onto the counter.
“Pregnant women can’t eat lunchmeat. Everyone knows it can cause Listeriosis,” Charlotte complains.
“Isn’t that the stuff you wash your mouth with?” Aunt Jenny asks.
“Sweet mother of pearl…” Aunt Claire mutters.
Charlotte’s face quickly changes from irritation to revulsion as she stares at the parts of the sandwich still clutched in her hand. She swallows thickly, but manages to keep talking. “Lunchmeat is dangerous. And smells. And….smells like…meat.”
She stops mid-sentence, shooting a look of panic at me. “You look sick, Molly. Are you going to throw up?”
I look at her like she’s as insane as I believe her to be and shake my head. “Uh, no. I’m fine.”
“No, you really look sick. You should go to the bathroom right now.”
She’s still holding the sandwich in her hand, but now she’s fisting it into a ball and I can see beads of sweat dotting her forehead.
Awwwww shit.
“You know, now that you mention it, I’m feeling a little pukey,” I announce, quickly pressing my hand to my stomach. “Uuughhh, yeah, definitely gonna throw up.”
Charlotte nods, still holding the mangled mess of a sandwich in one hand while she grabs my hand with the other. “I should go with you and hold your hair back just in case.”
“Yes, yes, wise decision. Wouldn’t want to get puke in my hair,” I laugh awkwardly before realizing I probably wouldn’t be laughing if I really felt like throwing up. I quickly change my laugh to a groan as Charlotte drags me from the kitchen while our mom and aunts stare at us wordlessly.
“Don’t use the Listeriosis on the bathroom sink after you throw up, Molly! I have a mint you can use instead,” Aunt Jenny shouts after us as we race out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom.
As soon as I shut the door behind us, Charlotte drops to her knees in front of the toilet and tosses not only her cookies, but from the looks of it, everything she’s eaten in the past week. I don’t know how one person can have so much bile in their body, and now I really am starting to feel sick listening to the sounds that are coming out of her as well as the smell of vomit that quickly fills the small space.
“Oh, my God, what did you eat?!” I complain, covering my nose with my hand.
“The salami! It smells so bad! Like meat!” she cries in between heaves.
“Then why are you still holding it in your hand?!” I screech.
“I DON’T KNOW!” she cries, leaning her head closer to the bowl as more vomit comes flying out.
A knock at the door makes me jump and Charlotte choke in the middle of a gag.
“Everything okay in there?” mom asks softly.
Charlotte groans loudly and I quickly cover it up with an even louder groan.
“UUUUGGHHHHHHH, so sick!” I yell through the door. “Be out in a minute!”
Moving behind Charlotte, I hold my breath while grabbing onto her hair and hold it away from the toilet while she continues throwing up. “You will be done soon, right? Good God, woman. How does someone so small have that much puke in her?!”
She rests her head on the arm draped over the toilet seat and sighs.
“I’ll just make you some soup to settle your stomach when you’re finished,” mom says through the door.
“Oh, no,” I whisper as I hear her footsteps moving her away from the bathroom.
“SOUP!” Charlotte wails, moving her head back over the bowl and gagging even harder.
“Don’t worry, I’ll eat it in another room or something,” I promise.
Five minutes later, after Charlotte cleaned herself up while I messed up my hair and splashed water all over myself to look like a recent puke victim, we walk back into the kitchen where my mother has wisely hidden all of the sandwiches and bags of lunchmeat.
“So, no one answered me before when I asked if we can be happy about this now. So, can we?” Aunt Jenny asks.
Mom shrugs and gives me a small smile. “Sure, Jenny. I guess we can be happy about this as long as Molly is happy.”
Charlotte wraps her arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “Molly is very happy. She’s just scared and nervous and worried, but she’s so happy.”
“Thank you for telling us how Molly feels,” Mom laughs. “How about we let Molly tell us?”
I stare at everyone dumbly as they wait for me to say something.
“Um, yeah. What she said,” I reply with a forced smile.
“Sweet! Pound sign, Molly’s pregnant!” Aunt Jenny cheers, holding her fist out for someone to “pound.”
“Don’t you mean hashtag?” Aunt Claire asks.
“No. It’s pound sign. Twitter stole it from math,” Aunt Jenny replies with a roll of her eyes.
“Wow, I actually can’t argue with that,” Aunt Claire says with a shrug, giving in and pounding her fist to Aunt Jenny’s.
“Alright, who wants chicken noodle soup?” Mom asks happily, holding up a can of Campbell’s.
“Oh, God. Molly’s going to be sick again!” Charlotte yells, grabbing my hand and dragging me back out of the kitchen.
Chapter 8
– Bag of Dicks –
Marco
“I can’t believe I missed half-price lap dances,” I hear Drew grumble as I make my way into the house a few minutes after everyone else.
My shoes squeak and squish against the floor as I go, and thankfully, the women seem to be more interested in what Drew is saying than what I look like and I can stand in the doorway of the kitchen unnoticed.
“You guys went to a strip club? Are you kidding me?” Molly’s mom complains.
“Do you see stripper glitter on my face? Do I smell like desperation and bad life choices?�
�� Drew asks, pausing to lift his arm & smell his pits. “Wait, don’t answer that.”
“We didn’t go to a strip club; don’t worry,” Molly’s dad reassures her, walking over to the fridge and opening the door. “Ooooh, you made sandwiches!”
I see Charlotte slide against the wall in my direction, quickly covering her mouth when Jim brings the plate, heaping with sandwiches, out of the fridge and sets them in the middle of the island. Gavin moves to her side and puts his arm around her, quietly asking if she’s okay.
“The meat,” she whispers with a shell-shocked look in her eyes. “Uh, Molly can’t stand the smell of meat and she threw up earlier. Seeing the sandwiches again just made me think of all that puke.”
I feel a hand on my arm and look away from the couple to see Molly staring at me in confusion.
“Why are you all wet?” she asks, taking in my wrinkled, damp t-shirt I wrung out and put back on and my jeans that are now dripping onto the kitchen floor.
I notice her wet, gnarled mess of hair hanging around her face that is also dripping with water and return her own question. “Why are YOU all wet?”
“She had the meat sweats,” Jenny informs me, giving Molly a pat on the back as she walks behind her and over to Drew.
“What the hell are meat sweats?”
Molly winces, pushing a clump of hair out of her eyes. “I really don’t want to talk about the meat sweats.”
I force myself to keep my eyes off of Charlotte even though I can see out of the corner of them that she’s got her back pressed up against a wall next to us, watching her father nervously as he takes a big bite out of a salami sandwich.
“I really like salami, too,” Molly mutters sadly before looking back at me. “But seriously, why are you all wet?”
Drew and Carter start laughing as they each grab a sandwich from the insanely large pile from the plate on the counter.
