terrible things e.s.

9 our little poppy

It was the night of Ed's twenty-third birthday; seven months and twenty days after my own.

We married in May, nothing big. I put on a nice crème colored dress, he put on a nice suit and we went to the court house, with a few friends for witnesses, and got married. Again, nothing big, but finally married. Ed has a song on the local radio station and it plays once a day around nine p.m; it's called A-team; he wrote it for a girl who was a fellow homeless. Her name was Colleen and her mother threw her onto the streets when she came out. Coincidently, her girlfriend broke up with the next day. I guess they were pretty close, she works at a bar now, serving tables.

I sent my work in to an editor in June, he sent it in to a local publisher and it was unfortunately turned down. At first, I was a little bummed out, but soon got over it. Not everything is going to go great.

Anyway, not the point, it was the night of Ed's twenty-third birthday, and I had gotten him something both irreplaceable and as good as, if not hopefully better, than the engagement.

We had already celebrated the night before with friends and family, so tonight we were staying in, ordering pizza. My head rested against Ed's shoulder as we watched the movie fold out in front of us. It was a terrifying story of a mans wife being brutally murdered by a serial killer, his son left physically disabled. Somehow throughout the tragic story, the son is kidnapped and his father is on a mission to find his lost son and kidnapper. He travels thousands of miles in search of his only child with the unfortunate help of a mentally disabled woman. The doorbell rang and I stood up immediately, "I'll get it, can you pause it?"

"Babe, it's Finding Nemo, you've seen it hundreds of times, is it really necessary?" I nod stalking off to the door to get our meal.

The teenage boy at the door extends the pizza, which was payed over the phone, and I hand him a tip.

"Thanks, have a great night- and congrats," he says in a bored tone.

"Yeah, thanks, you too," I reply shutting the door.

I grab a couple of napkins and Pepsi's before coming back to the living area and setting the items on the ottoman. I sit, both excitement and nervous energy coercing through my bones.

"I am so fucking hungry," Ed says as he opens the lid of the pizza box. On the inside of the lid is "I'm pregnant" scribbled in sloppy handwriting. I couldn't think of a way to tell him, other than this. I could have said some heartfelt speech sprinkled with cheese, but why not literally give him something cheesy? His eyes light up when he reads the words, a huge smiling breaking onto his freckle-spotted face.

"Really?" Ed asked, beaming.

"Yeah," I replied, my cheeks hurting with the large grin settled on my lips. The next thing I knew, I was attacked in a bone crushing hug, my back falling in the couch.

"I love you, I love you, I love you..." Ed chanted in my neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses between each word.

"You're happy," I said when he finally sat back up.

"This is the best birthday gift, like, ever. Pizza and you're bearing child, like dude."

"Yeah, it's crazy," I said.

"How long have you been pregnant? Do you still have the test, I want to see it? Oh, my god, how big is it?" Ed rambled off random questions, poking me in the stomach.

"Um, four weeks, but I've only known for two days and it's been driving me insane not telling you. Yes, I still have the test, its in the sock drawer. And they are probably about the size of a poppy seed."

"Awww," Ed cooed, "Our little poppy."

"Yeah, our little poppy." Ed placed a sloppy kiss on my lips quickly.

"I love you, so much."

"I love you, too."

"We are going to have the best kid ever, oh my god."

And for the rest of the night we talked about the baby, the future, and ate pizza.

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Double update b/c you're awesome and this is short anD different!¡!