What's Done is Done

Chapter 4

Throughout the night, I couldn't sleep. I've been thinking too much about the thing that's totally changing my life. A.K.A. my unexpected pregnancy.

There were millions of questions running through my head:

Should I abort it or give it away for adoption or keep it?

Who should I tell first? Mom and Dad? Daniel? 

And when should I tell everyone I'm pregnant?

How will they react? Will they hate me? Or still love me and support me?

How will I continue my education? 

How will I afford the baby?

And the most important, most major question of all:

How the fuck can I be a fucking mom at fucking sixteen years old?!

I finally fall asleep, even though those questions are unanswered.

I wake up the next morning when the alarm beeps at promptly 6:15. I immediately run to the bathroom, which is luckily adjoined to my bedroom, lift open the toilet seat, and empty the contents of my stomach. I flush it away, and my mouth has a dry, stinky, yucky taste. 

I so don't feel like going to school today...

Well, then I guess I'll just skip school today. It's only the second day, after all. What could I miss?

I head to the kitchen to make myself breakfast. I see Mom finishing up her cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Allison," Mom greets with yet one of her warm smiles.

" 'Morning," I reply glumly as I open the fridge.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Mom asks, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine,"

I take out a jar of pickles and a tub of mayo and a bottle of chocolate syrup, and once those items are retrieved, I shut the fridge. I open the cabinet and grab a package of white bread.

I slab the mayo, sprinkle the slices of pickles, and squirt the chocolate syrup onto the piece of bread. Then I put the other piece of bread on.

I sit down at the table across from Mom and begin to eat the delicious sandwich. 

Mom looks at me, horrified.

"That's disgusting, Allison!" Mom exclaims, disgusted.

I shrug my shoulders and say nonchalantly, "I think it tastes great."

"You're out of your mind," Mom says, shaking her head in total awe. "Well, I gotta go to work, sweetie. I'll be home by 7:00 tonight, okay?"

"Okay, Mom," I reply, finishing up the sandwich. Sadly, it's gone.

Mom retrieves her purse and keys, and walks out of the house through the back door.

An hour and fifteen minutes has passed by; it's 7:30.

Isabelle enters the kitchen and she sees me eating straight out of the container of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

"Wow, ice cream for breakfast?!" Isabelle says, awed. "Geez, Al."

I grin. "YOLO, right?"

Isabelle rolls her eyes. "Whatever."

She eats a bowl of Rice Krispies cereal, strawberries, and drinks a glass of iced sweet tea. 

"I like eating a healthy meal," Isabelle boasts.

I stick out my tongue and retort, "Whatever."

Somehow Isabelle's breakfast twists and turns my insides out, and I end up puking on the floor.

"Oh, ew!" Isabelle cries, disgusted.

"Oh, ew," I repeat, even more disgusted.

Suddenly bursting into tears, I clean up the puke.

Isabelle stares at me blankly. "Are you okay, Al?"

"I'm fine," I reply, refusing to look at her straight into her eyes.

"No, you're not fine," Isabelle says firmly. "I can tell whether you're telling the truth or lying. Now spill it, Allison!"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open my eyes, I whisper, "I'm pregnant, Is."