Tarrant

Lion Cub

It's been a month since I found out Angel is pregnant. She's been so sick the past few days, throwing up every morning, and she doesn't want to eat very much. I feel bad because it's pretty much my fault. We moved into Dad's house last night. He was so excited to have me back home.

"Welcome home, you two!" Dad said as Angel and I walked through the front door. He gave us each a hug. Memories rushed through my brain as I walked through the house. Birthday parties and fist fights in the kitchen, bubble baths and suicide attempts in the bathroom, and family reunions and family disputes in the living room. I went upstairs to my old bedroom, where Angel would be sleeping. Dad and I agreed that nothing would be going on between me and Angel while we stay at his house. I laid her bags on the bed, which looked like it hadn't been touched since I left all those years ago. The room was exactly how I left it. All of my stuffed animals remained on the bed, all of my drawings remained on the walls, and all of my old clothes remained in the closet. I wondered if they still fit.

Angel came upstairs too and plopped down on the bed. She saw all of the "art" on the walls.
"Aww, baby! Did you draw these?" She asked.
"Yes. They're pretty terrible, aren't they?"
"No, they're actually really good. You're like, totally a good artist. Do you still draw?"
"Sometimes."
She saw the stuffed animals on the bed, and picked up a small yellow lion. She started to cry.
"What's wrong, darling?" I asked, a little confused by her sudden emotional switch.
"This is just... so cute... and now I'm thinking about how cute you probably were as a baby... and how cute this baby is going to be." She wept. I just nodded and agreed with her.
"It is pretty cute." I said, putting my arm around her.