I stared at the TV, eating cheetos, sipping coke. It was the marathon of Jesse's favorite show, so when I had nothing better to do, I sat with him, simply staring at the screen.
It's been three weeks since the boys returned. They spent a lot of time on the studio and they were going back on tour in less than a week. I knew I would miss them, especially Clinton. I knew that I'd miss the warmth of his body right next to mine when I fall asleep and wake up... And those of his words that were still making me love him even more each day.
I couldn't find a word for how much I loved this man. As my father used to say: nothing happens without a reason. Maybe that's the only way I could've had found someone like that?
Probably between us there would be nothing after Australia, if not our slip. This situation forced us to approach each other and get to know each other better. Then it turned out that... it was love? From this developed a feeling, definitely.
Clinton was a typical playboy, and I was very light manners. I did not care about what I was doing with my body. And so we collided with each other, changing each others lives. It's possible we even helped each other. I have no idea how much we could still pull with a very unstable lifestyle. It is said that you have to go crazy, but haven't we been crazy about these last years?
We didn't had to end it, but we definitely had to stop and take a breath. We both knew about it, it was as if it was unspeakable between us.
"Baby, where do I have to take it?" Clinton suddenly stood in the doorway, holding the cardboard box.
"Y'know, maybe the bathroom, because it's probably my cosmetics and gels" I said, biting a chip.
"Okay, five more left," he sighed, speaking to Jesse rather than to me. I saw them looking at each other.
"I love you!" I shouted after him and I only heard on the stairs a sigh mixed with croaking.
My dad also said that for love sometimes you have to go against your rules to keep it. So, I agreed to move to Clinton's because he was the father of my child and seemed to care for me like no other. And besides, he loved me, I knew it. My dad would certainly like him, they were somewhat similar to each other. I couldn't say in what thing, but they were pretty similar.
Today we were supposed to go together to see a doctor, because I went to him every two weeks, more often than usual, considering that my pregnancy was different than typical.
I looked at the phone, noticing that we only had an hour to get there, so we had to hurry up.
I got up, ruffling Jesse's hair, exposing my tongue, making him make his business-bewildered look, then showed me the middle finger.
"You are unbearable," he snorted, pulling on the blanket I was previously covered with.
"And you will return my property to me" I showed it on the blanket.
"Come on, we live together, right?" He did puppy eyes, covering himself with puffy blanket to the neck.
"Do what you want," I waved at him, going to the hall, noticing the boxes laying there.
I decided to help Clinton a bit, so I picked up one that seemed to least weigh. I started to go up the stairs with it. It was a bit tiring, but somehow I managed.
The boy was just coming out of the bedroom when I went upstairs.
"Angeline!" he rebuked me loudly "How many times to tell you so you don't overload yourself!"
"I just wanted to help ya..." I said quietly, swallowing the knot in my throat. I felt like crying again through the hormones and his raised voice.
"You help me the most when you rest," he said coldly, taking the box away from me, bringing it into the room.
"We must go to this visit..." I replied quietly, walking behind him into the bedroom.
I sat on the bed, watching as he placed the boxes next to the wardrobe.
"Dress yourself babe, and then we're going" he nodded in concentration, then slipped out of the room like a sling, probably to end up carrying my stuff.
So I changed for the big black sweatshirt with the Chase Atlantic logo and the Nike sports shorts in a special pregnancy cut, which I got as a gift from my sister before she went back to Australia.
I was just lacing my shoes when Clinton entered the room again, this time with the car keys.
"Ready?"
***
After the visit, which went amazingly well, we went to Yoghurt Land, to buy a frozen yogurt with additives. We were going back a little longer because, surprisingly, Clinton insisted that there's big traffic jams on the main route.
We listened to our mixed playlist of his and mines favorite songs, creating an explosive mix. It was a bit funny to hear rap first and then sounds of 2006 emo bands. However, that's how it was with us.
"Clinton, what do you think about calling him Callum?" I asked suddenly, lost in my own thoughts.
"After your father?" he asked skeptically, without taking his eyes off the road.
"Yeah. I would like to commemorate him somehow..."
"Understandable, but is it not strange to call someone after a dead person. It looks like you are trying to hold on to the thought of a person who's long gone" he said honestly, bluntly. And I felt like he hit me in the face...
"Clinton, I just want to show him that I love him in this way..." I started in a shaky voice.
"I know you love your father and I can assure you that he knows. You don't have to try hard to show that you remember him. You must let go of the past and start living now... Our child is a completely different person, deserves the original name, not associated with anything and nobody, "he said in a sterile tone, trying not to get into a quarrel.
"Do you have any ideas?" I asked resigned.
"I do not," he shrugged.
"You're not helping" I sighed, looking out the window.
I knew he was right, but I was too upset with him to admit it.
When we arrived, Clinton quickly caught up with me by the door, grabbing my elbow as I opened the door.
"Don't take offense, because I told you what I think," he replied, while I broke away in the hall.
"Give me a break, Clinton," I snorted, wanting to go upstairs to the bedroom. I felt huge fatigue and great leg pain.
"Don't do it now, do not do it now..." he hissed through his teeth, gently grasping my hand in his.
"What are you talking about, Clinton...?" I looked at him stupidly.
After a moment, I saw the reason for his behavior.
A dark-haired, middle-aged woman was standing in the doorway of the living room. She was smiling at us radiantly, and I had the impression that I would soon have a heart attack.
"You must be Angeline, aren't you, honey?" she said in a soft voice, coming up to me to hug me.
"Y-y-yes..." I knocked, feeling her arms around me.
"Angeline, this is my mother..." said Clinton, scratching his neck.
"Biddi, darling," said the woman, looking at me with a delightful look on her face.
I wanted to kill Clinton on the spot for not telling me anything about it.
////
Mamma Cave is in town! Who is happy?
