Thomas O'Sullivan & Edith Montgomery

Pick up the Pieces

Two weeks later, we went back, and Edie said she simply couldn't get rid of it. So, it was official, we were going to be mum and dad. She was going to have to go back in a month, and I had to be there with her for every check up. Unlike most boys, I didn't run. I didn't pack my things, wave my hand and say it's your problem now. No. I'm not like most boys. I stayed with her, right by her side.

The June summer holidays now, Edith was sixteen weeks along, around four months, and she was hiding from her dad as much as she could. She didn't show much at all, in fact, she looked normal; healthy, even. Mum was more than happy to look after her at home, while dad went to work and I did my morning rounds of the papers.

I came home, chucked my bike on the driveway and came into the house.

Edie, who was feeling much better, was finishing up her gentle exercise, while I heard my baby brother crying upstairs.

"Hey, babe." I called, shutting the door. I heard her sigh deeply.

"Oh, hello sweetheart, all done?" She asked, rolling up her yoga mat. I nodded and came to help her.

"Yeah, I'm free now. Here, let me do it." I offered, putting her mat away, tucked behind the front door.

"Your mother's upstairs by the way." She told me. I came up to her and placed my hands on her hips.

"How are we feeling? Hungry yet?" I asked. She smiled shyly, nodding her pretty head. I kissed her on the forehead. "I thought you might be. I'll get you something." I murmured, going over to the fridge, her hand in mine. "What d'you want?" I asked.

She looked at the fridge with curious eyes, then she smiled.

"I think I fancy avo-toast." She replied.

"Avo-toast it is." I got out the half chopped avocado, while she put the bread in the toaster. She mushed up the avocado and when the toast was done, spread it on. We sat back down on the sofa, and she took small bights of the brown toast. I put a hand on her thigh, and my other arm around her shoulder. "How are you feeling?" I asked. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"You little sweetie, stop worrying about me, I'm fine. Perfectly normal." She replied through a mouthful of toast.

I gazed at her, wondering what she must be going through.

She finished her toast and we were alone downstairs. I came back to the sofa after I had put the plate in the dishwasher. I looked at her, she seemed different, radiant, and somehow more attractive. There was a certain glow about her that was almost irresistible. She giggled, crossing her arms.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing." I replied hastily.

"Nothing?" She queried.

"Nothing." I laughed, kissing her soft hair.

She sighed deeply and rested her head on my shoulder. Then, she shuffled round so that her head was on my lap, and she was lying on her back.

I stroked her forehead, gazing at her gorgeous blue eyes.

But she was looking elsewhere, down at her stomach. She lifted up her vest and prodded herself.

"God, I'm bloated." She mumbled, disgruntled.

I scoffed. "Wonder why." I chuckled.

She kept on squidging herself, prodding her tummy, and looking rather unhappy.

I put a hand on hers to make her stop.

"Babe, leave it alone, you look fine." I assured. She gave a disgruntled groan.