We're Getting There // A.I

Chapter 2 // Overprotected

April 5 : 220 days till due

"Oh my god, aha, see for a second, I thought you said you were pregnant"

I roll my eyes. I've tried to tell my older brother Michael three times now. His brain won't process it.

"I am" I say, but he just takes my hands between his and grips them tightly.

"No. You're not" he dismisses, shaking his head.

"I really am" I insist, pulling my hands out of his death grip and disturbing the tablecloth on the restaurant table.

I've decided it's time to start telling my family. Michael, my half-brother, was the obvious first choice. We were closest when I was growing up, even if he picked on me and taped my hands to treadmills and stole my toys and threatened a few of my first boyfriends.

"How?" He asks me, searching my face with a desperate expression.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "You don't want me to explain how I got pregnant, do you?"

He scoffs then makes a disgusted face, leaning away from me. "You don't know what a penis is" he mutters, a sour expression on his mouth.

My face softens. He's always been surprisingly overprotective when it comes to boys.

"Who got you pregnant? I'll kill him" he vows suddenly, abruptly throwing his napkin down.

"Mikey," I sigh "calm down."

"How can you be pregnant?" He moans, running his hand through his newly bleached hair. "You're still a baby yourself! I remember when you couldn't even go to the bathroom by yourself because you were afraid of ghosts-"

"Michael, that's enough" I say.

"God. You have a...you have a person inside you right now! Fuck. I'm gonna be an uncle. What the fuck"

"Well, I'm glad you're taking it well" I say, pursing my lips and munching on a stale breadstick.

I've been on edge lately. Ashton hasn't been talking to me much, or coming around, and I've stopped calling him every ten minutes. I figure he has a life to lead, and even if all I want to do sometimes is see him, I leave him alone.

I still can't sleep, though.

"Charlie, who did this to you? Tell me right now" Michael demands.

I laugh a little; I'm not telling him. Michael may not be able to kill Ashton, but he can definitely try. I'd rather my baby have a Dad who has both his legs, thankyou very much.

"Where's the waiter?" I ask, trying to change the subject, feigning a searching look around the room.

"Tell me who made my little baby sister pregnant" he says.

I open my mouth but am interrupted by the clambering over by the stage in the corner of the room. There's a microphone stand, bar stools, and a drum kit on the tiny platform, and I assume the noise is musicians about to perform. Although I've always been a fan of listening to luv music while you eat, I sort of don't feel like being drowned out by a double bass solo.

The lights in the restaurant dim out, green and purple lights focusing on the stage. I sigh, because Michael is completely transfixed on where the stage is, his back turned at a weird angle so he can watch like the rest of the customers.

I wanted to ask him if he'd come with me to talk to our Mom, but it seems like that'll have to wait. I read over the menu several times as the musicians finally get on stage, not bothering to look up when the intro starts. They play soft jazz, and Michael still hasn't turned around.