Charlie's Angel

45

Charlie

How dare she think she could just weasel her ass between me and Chris. And how dare Chris not tell me who the hell she was.

Let's meet up?  What the fuck?

Chris obviously kept her a secret from me for a reason, so I'd let her have him. If he was texting her, then she already won; I had lost yet another man.

This had to be a new record.

"Honey, you need to rest," Sam chided, watching me uneasily. "The stressing you're doing is not good for the baby."

I froze up and turned to look at her, feeling my stomach churn. I kept forgetting I had to worry about my unborn now. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I fell onto the bed and sniffled.

Pregnancy hormones were a bitch.

I decided I was keeping this baby. I couldn't give it up. I couldn't force myself to go through an abortion, knowing I was perfectly capable of taking care of it. It wouldn't be fair to the baby; I had kept Paris so why couldn't I keep this one? Just because the father didn't know? That's bullshit.

I was now six or seven weeks pregnant and my belly had began to grow the slightest. I was proud of my belly, just not the proudest at how the baby came to be.

Sweeping my palm down my belly, I sighed and closed my eyes. "Will the right one ever come along, Sam?"

I felt the bed shift with her weight as she sat down beside me. "I think so. Charlie, maybe this whole situation is a big misunderstanding. What if he really hasn't done anything with that girl?"

I turned my head slightly to look up at her. "Then why couldn't he just tell me some girl was trying to come around? There's something going on, Sam. He wouldn't be acting like this if it was just some girl."

"He didn't tell you because he knew how you'd react... kinda like you're reacting right now." She chewed her lip. "Give him a chance, okay? You're carrying his child."

"Yeah? What if it isn't his kid, Sam? I don't even know whose it is!" I turned on my side away from her when I felt a wave of emotions coming on. I had cried already so much today and I was so tired. I was nauseous, my fingers were freezing, and I had a tension headache.

Not to mention, Chris was blowing up my phone trying to get me to talk to him. My phone was practically untouched, except the occasional text from my sister or my mom. She and I had been growing close again, all three of us.

I didn't want to talk to Chris.

"But what if it is? You're gonna keep his kid from him because you think he's doing something with some girl? Didn't you say he hasn't been texting her back?"

I rubbed my sleeve over my nose and shrugged. "Sam, you're not helping."

Was I being a bit harsh? Yes. Did I have a reason to be upset? Yes. Did Chris deserve a chance to explain himself? Yes.

So why was I not with him, listening to his excuse as to why some girl was texting him? Because I knew I'd slip up. I'd slip up and mention the baby.

Or I'd be even more stupid and say I love you. God knows it's true. I did love Chris, more than anything. I was just terrified to tell him because I didn't know what to do with those feelings–very strong, mind-crippling feelings. Was I in love or did I just really love Chris? Probably both.

Love. Did anybody really know the true definition? There are so many variations to it, and I couldn't differentiate them. Or was there only one kind of love and I was just being overdramatic?