The Naughty Spaceholder

Derek

"Lisa thinks she's pregnant!" I yelled; my patience was worn out.

We arrived at Ryan's place not five minutes ago and I was ready to combust. If I didn't come clean to someone I was going to end up in a mental institution. Soon.

The room grew quiet and all eyes zoned in on their target: me. The seat became uncomfortable. I shifted on the couch and tapped my foot against the peach tiles, trying to ease some of the tension.

"I mean, who the fuck does she think she is?" I went on. "Out of the blue, she sent me emergency messages. I got concerned." My head bobbed at the statement. A sharp, high-pitched laugh followed. "Yes, I was concerned. Fuck, I almost had a heart attack. Then, guess what?"

My friends stared at me like I had two heads. Concern evident in their features.

"When I abandoned my date with Cathy and drove thirty whole fucking minutes to her house, she had the heart to tell me she thinks she's pregnant. Do you know what she did after that? The bitch went and planned a fucking appointment for next week, Friday!"

I poured out a shot of whiskey. The cool glass touched my lips when my head tilted back. The warm liquid burned the back of my throat as it went down my esophagus.

There was no response, but I continued anyway, "I mean, she didn't even request the appointment for tomorrow nor this Friday, but all the way in next week! A whole fucking week from now!"

When Lisa told me she had set up an appointment with her doctor for next week, I nearly choked the bitch out. For two days, I daydreamed of her death. My two favorites were her getting hit by a truck and me choking her to death.

After throwing back another shot, the glass was slammed on the coffee table with a thud. A mixture of emotions swirled in my head. "My mom's going to freak."

No, she was going to be disappointed. This incident was now occurring twice. Forget disappointment, she was going to disown me this time for sure.

"Cathy's going to be upset," Brandon, my best friend added.

"Fuck!" I groaned, resting my head in my hands.

Cathy was going to kill me.

"So, when did you find out?" Ryan, the owner of the apartment, and my other close friend tuned in.

"Friday night." When I got frustrated with the small shot glass, I turned the whiskey bottle to my head.

"Wow! It's Wednesday and you haven't blabbered to Cathy yet? Damn, man! I'm proud of you," Brandon chided.

"Yeah, well, I feel like shit." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I've been avoiding her ever since I found out. Trust me, it's like...like freaking mission impossible. Brad Pitt got nothing on me. Or maybe I should call him up for lessons."

Well, that didn't seem like a bad idea.

My gaze flickered to my friends. "Who knows where Brad Pitt lives? Do you guys think he'll think I'm stalking him?"

Ryan chuckled, grabbing the whiskey bottle from my grasp, then flopped down next to me. "You'll get through this. You just keep doing what you're doing until next week, when the big news comes out."

No, it wouldn't be possible. Cathy hated secrets, and every time my feet touched the inside of our apartment I wanted to crumble.

"Is it just me or did this motherfucker didn't pay attention in Sex Ed classes?" Brandon questioned. His tone trenched with sarcasm. He leaned on the wall near the window with his hands buried in his pants pockets.