okay, so sorry for a lack of pictures. in case you didn't know, I recently had to uninstall and reinstall all of my games, and I was stupid enough to not back up my screenshots, where all of the pictures for this chapter were. sorry, guys. The chapter after this will probably not have pictures in the beginning of it, either.
The next few weeks flew by. I’d never had so much time to think before, but it was like this big switch had been turned on inside of me. Nilla said he’d never seen someone improve so fast. He said it was because I’d never been given such an easy opportunity to let everything go, coupled with the pregnancy hormones. When he told me that I wondered where I’d be now if I hadn’t gotten pregnant.
However, I was still stuck on whether or not their version of better was really something I agreed with, and Vanilla boy said that was perfectly normal. He’d be more concerned and skeptical if I’d just immediately succumbed. Any faster improvement, he said, and I’d have to be faking. It was encouraging but scary to wrap my mind around. Sometimes in the middle of the day, I’d wonder what I was doing. Why wasn’t I getting out of here? I just wanted to leave. My hands would shake and I’d briefly become very angry with myself. This isn’t what I had always thought life was supposed to be. I was supposed to live, and die. I didn’t expect to be happy or see another point of view, and I couldn’t help but realize how close minded I was. But I didn’t see anything wrong with it.
Sessions with Vanilla were radically different from sessions with Daisy, as if I hadn’t said it enough. Daisy’s sessions had been therapy, “how does that make you feel? If you could go back would you do it differently?” But with Vanilla it was like having a friend- but also because he was a friend, I doubted the definition of "friend" that I’d had my whole life.
But anyway, where Daisy’s was therapy, Vanilla’s were casual conversation. Sometimes it was deep, but mostly we told each other stories. Sometimes unbelievable stories, because it was hard to stomach the image of teenage rebels Daisy and Vanilla boy.
Just like me, they went to parties and got drunk. They threw parties while daddy was away, and because they were rich kids they had the resources to do anything they could think of doing. Nilla told me that once, in his Freshman year of college he’d thrown a party so huge even the cops joined in.
He also told me that miss Hippy Daisy in her sophomore year of high school, had taken BioMed class. In that class, they dissected dead cats. Daisy was against this, so instead of quietly dissecting a cat, Vanilla boy helped her buy fifty living cats and let them loose in the science wing of their school over night. He told me they’d almost gotten expelled, if it hadn’t been for daddy’s money. I asked if she’d ended up having to dissect a cat anyway, he chuckled and said “Yeah..” with a far-away look on his face. He looked back at his high school and college memories with a sense of nostalgia and happiness. I looked back on mine with indifference and discontentment. I’d been that way even before I’d come to Renewing Springs Inn.
Eventually the stories we told each other got more and more personal. I was always wary, expecting snide remarks or sarcasm. Vanilla boy gave me none. It was mature, refreshing. I told him how I’d lost my virginity on the second day of my freshman year of high school to a boy named Macadamia in the girl’s locker room. We’d skipped creative writing together. I remembered that he had a car, which was particularly cool to a freshman girl. I also remembered that we didn’t really talk after that one occurrence. I don’t even think he knew how young I was, or that I was a virgin.
Vanilla asked me if I was ashamed of myself, and I told him the truth, that no, I wasn’t. I told him I was proud to have these stories to tell, to show people that despite my actions I’d come out alive on the other end. I’d started becoming surprised at my own thoughts, sometimes.
Nilla told me that he lost his virginity in his junior year of high school to a senior girl named Pesto. He’d taken her to a drive in movie in his father’s car, and he’d been the nervous one. I laughed and told him that it sounded like a story from the 60‘s, and that his father had probably lost his the same way. Then we laughed together.
“Is this normal?” I asked him after we were done laughing.
“what do you mean?”
“I mean this feels like friendship, not therapy.” He started opening his mouth, but I interrupted him. “I know, I know, being friendly and all that. It just seems strange and unprofessional that you should be my friend and not my therapist.”
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“Not really- it’s just that I didn’t even share this much information with Marina. I mean, I told her things that had happened, but not how I felt about it. With you it’s like I give everything away.”
He smiled at me and I could practically hear him saying “you have so much to learn.”
“That’s probably why we’re making so much progress.” He interjected.
I shrugged. “I guess.” it just didn’t seem right. There had to be more to it than that. This couldn’t possibly be a normal friendship. I couldn’t quite get the concept that Vanilla understood me and the way my mind worked so clearly.
~o~
“So how far along are you again?”
“Eight months. I’m about ready to pop.”
Pomme and I were outside, sitting on the lawn and watching the evening clouds float by. It was peaceful, and that was enough for me. As for Pomme, you could hear the anticipation and impatience dripping for the tenor and accent of his voice.
“And after that, you’ll be with me, right?” He spoke low, trying to be sexy. He rolled over on his side and put his hand on my huge belly. I put my hand on his and turned my head to face him.
“I don’t know Pomme, I mean, I’m going to be a mother.”
“But it’s just a baby, Rowena. Aren’t you going to adopt it out, anyways?” He sounded confused, but not genuinely so. Like maybe if he played innocent, I’d actually do it.
“Uh, no. This is my child, Pomme. I’m keeping him.”
“Doesn’t the father want it?” He seemed vaguely disgusted.
“It? Pomme, it’s not the father’s choice. I’ve taken responsibility for this and I’m not going to opt out and make Smog care for a child he doesn’t want!”
“But, Rowena darling, you don’t want that, right? Just have fun while you can-”
“Pomme. I am eight months pregnant.” I said sternly, pushing his unwanted kiss away from my jaw. “If I’d wanted to continue having fun, I would have gotten an abortion.”
At this point, Pomegranate had sat up. I sat up too. He looked worried and angry under his suave exterior.
“But you said-”
“Pomme, I don’t care what I said. You disgust me.” I’d never thought about it before, but, mulling over my words, I realized that I couldn’t have said anything more true to him.
There was no argument. Huffily, he got up and stomped back into the house. I slumped back down onto the grass, sighing. I sat there until the sky began to turn from pink to dark blue, and then moved to the swing. My mind was blank and my conscience clean, but I couldn’t help but feel wrong.
I sat on the swing for I don’t know how long. Daisy had given the warning to come inside twice, but she had given up. She’d probably gone and told Vanilla boy to come and get me, but he didn’t. I sat there until the stars and the moon lit the sky, and then I sat some more.
I wishfully gazed at the city lights to my right, letting my bare toes drag in the dirt under the swing. I listened as the door opened and Nilla walked over to me, but I didn’t look at him or acknowledge that he was there.
He stood in front of me with his arms crossed for awhile, but his gaze wasn’t menacing or impatient. He looked at me sadly, like he’d expected more out of me. We stared at each other for a moment.
“What are you doing out here, Rowena?”
I looked away, back towards the glowing city. “My bed is too small.”
“Please just come inside. You’re making us nervous.”
I looked back at him again, looking right at his face. Briefly he looked uncomfortable, and wavered, uncrossing his arms. “Please, Rowena. You can’t sit here on this swing all night.”
“It’d be more comfortable than sleeping on that godawful bed.” I don’t really know what I was trying to get him to do for me. I just wanted to cause problems and be childish.
“Then sleep in my bed! I don’t care, just come inside please. I’m begging you.” I shot him a look, and to that he answered, “Yes, with me in it. We can sleep in a bed together as friends, Rowena.”
“Whatever,” I said, getting up off the swing and walking back towards the house. Vanilla boy followed me.
“Is that a yes?”
“You think I’m gonna choose the bunk bed if I have a choice?”
He chuckled and followed me inside.
~o~
I woke up to the other half of the bed empty. I hadn’t slept that well in months and I was reluctant to get up. Instead I rolled over and spread out on the bed, taking up the whole thing and staring at the ceiling. It was a very sunny day for Briocheport, and it reflected my mood. I felt at peace and like I had more energy than I’d had in a long time. After laying on my back for a few more minutes I got up and stretched, finding my muscles mostly free of aches.
When I got downstairs everyone was already done with breakfast. Vanilla boy was at the table reading a thick book. I grabbed myself a bowl of cereal and sat across from him. He glanced up for a second and went back to reading.
“How late is it?”
“Hmm? oh, I don’t know. After 10:30 I think. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Oh.” I didn’t really know what to think about it, but he was very nonchalant, so I decided I wasn’t going to worry or anything. We’d missed the time frame to have a session though, so maybe my mood was just a little bit dampened. I wasn’t going to let it ruin my day, though.
I spent a couple of hours sitting in the main room on the bigger piano. They had two, a grand piano and one that was upright and smaller, in the TV room. But Gogi and Melon were watching something, so I didn’t want to disturb them. I was, however, glad to be left alone while playing. I’d half expected Daisy to come and watch me, but she didn’t. I don’t think I saw Pomme once that day.
~o~
“So, do you have anything in mind you’d like to do for a job?”
“Something with music. I can play the piano at least decently, I think. I’d be happy just doing maintenence or something.” I would really need the money. The baby was due in three weeks.
“I have a friend down at the theater in the city. They do plays, concerts and symphonies, things like that. I might be able to get you a performing job. Hope you’re not afraid of an audience.”
“Definitely not.” I said, beaming.
“Don’t expect this to be set in stone though, I can’t promise you anything. I could suggest you and he might have you sweeping hallways and cleaning up after shows, or he might not hire you at all.”
“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. You’ll at least help me get some sort of a job though, right?”
“Of course, Rowena. I’m here for you every step of the way.” Personally, I was glad he was being honest about the possibility of my not getting hired.
“But I do need to tell you that we’ve talked to child protective services about your baby.” He didn’t sound too happy and I steeled myself over for what was coming.
“They told us that they absolutely cannot let a child live here, and you’re not ready to leave yet. I don’t think you’ll be able to get out of here fast enough to keep him. I’m really sorry..”
I couldn’t help it, but I felt a mix of fear, anger and sadness. I could feel myself starting to cry, but I suppressed it, sighing and taking my breaths slowly.
“You’re sure? Will I have to fight to get him back afterwards?”
“Possibly, but they also said that as a woman recently out of rehab, the chances of you getting him back at all are slim.”
My hand moved to my bulging stomach. I rested my elbow on the arm of the chair, and then slumped my head into my hand, beginning to quietly sob. Vanilla walked over behind my chair and rubbed my shoulder, offering me tissues. I didn’t want to look at him, and he understood me, just standing there and comforting me while I cried for what felt like hours.
The next day I entered his office a bit more humbled than I had been the day before. He sat in the chair in front of me, clapping his hands together and smiling.
“I talked to my friend down at the theater, he said he’d definitely accept you no matter what, but the job he accepts you in will depend on how good you are with various instruments.”
He paused, waiting for my answer. I just smiled at him
“I hope you’re good with something other than a piano!”
He looked at me again, and I still didn’t answer, still smiling.
“Alright, what’s up, you look happy but you’re not saying anything.”
“I’m pretty sure my water just broke.” I was still smiling. It was still a little early, but it didn’t worry me too much.
“Oh.” His eyes widened and he glanced at the door for a moment before getting up and walking across the room. “I’ll go uh, warm my car up, do you- do you need help getting down there?”
“No, I think I can manage. Just give me a minute.”
“Wow, hoo- Okay. Alright. We’re prepared for this.” He seemed shell-shocked. “Mine’s the yellow one, in case you didn’t know.”
BACK
