Saving Levy

Chapter Eight

Three Months: The Ultrasound and a Heart Beat

Levy woke up, sick to her stomach again, and rushed to the bathroom. Emerging a short while later to stand in front of the full length mirror in the room she shared with Gajeel, she lifted her shirt and stood sideways in front of it. Less then a month after discovering the presence of her child, the little one was already beginning to show as her once flat stomach bulged just slightly. A loose tee shirt or a hoodie would easily hide the small baby bump.

Levy slid on a pair of loose fitting jeans decorated with little sharpie doodles she'd done out of boredom. She added an old baggy Boondox tee shirt with the collar cut out, the sides cut and tied into multiple small, decorative knots along the side seams, and huge circles cut from the top of the sleeves so the shirt would hang off her shoulders by thin straps, but clung to her upper arms and waist. Slipping on her usual black hoodie, Levy topped the outfit with a gentle black choker with a crystal pendant. As she tied her old black converse shoes, she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was seven thirty in the morning, giving her an hour to eat and head to the doctor's office for her ultrasound.

Today she'd get to see her baby for the first time. Her baby would appear to her in a strange black and white picture that could be hard to make out, but Levy would treasure that photo for the rest of her life. As she walked down the stairs she began to lose herself to her thoughts as images of her baby filled her head. Dancing squares of black and white blobs and awkward dream like scenes of her holding a miniature Gajeel made her smile as her favorite song took over. She began to sing to herself as she entered the kitchen to make breakfast.

Mama told me when I was young
Come sit beside me my only son
And listen closely to what I say
And if you do this it'll help you
some sunny day. Oh Yah!

Oh take your time don't live too fast
troubles will come and they will pass
Go find a woman and you'll find love
And don't forget son there is someone up above

And be a simple kind of man
Oh be something you love and understand
Baby be a simple kind of man
Oh won't you do this for me son if you can?

Forget your lust, for the rich man's gold
All that you need is in your soul
And you can do this Oh baby if you try
All that I want for you my son is to be satisfied

And be a simple kind of man
Oh be something you love and understand
Baby be a simple kind of man
Oh won't you do this for me son if you can?

Boy don't you worry, you'll find yourself
Follow your heart and nothing else
And you can do this Oh baby if you try
All that I want for you my son is to be satisfied

Baby be a simple kind of man
Oh won't you do this for me son if you can?
Baby be a simple, be a simple man.

"Are you seriously singing that?" Metalicana asked looking up from the paper. He sat at the table eating a plate of scrambled eggs and a huge pile of bacon. "Aren't you a little young to be listening to such an old song?"

"The spirit of music died in the early 2000's when artists became repetitive and songs no longer told a story, but rather promoted sex, drinking, crime and cheating. If you take the majority of today's most popular songs and broke them down to their basic forms you'd find that they all contain repetitive lyrics about getting high or drunk with money earned through crime and having multiple quote unquote hoes, a cheesy overplayed rhythm, and a catchy beat." Levy barely looked up from the eggs she'd thrown on the stove as she spoke, "Country songs are the same, party in the woods or barn yard, tractors, and either the preacher's daughter, farmer's daughter, or some down home country girl. Rock and anything produced underground, before 2000, and anything considered uncool are about the only standing true music area's left."