in between.
I took a deep breath and looked around the bedroom.
“You don’t have to do this, Maya,” Bev said from behind me.
“Yes, I do.”
“No. I’ll move all my stuff out of the apartment.”
I looked back at her and smiled. “No.”
“I know the ink smells bad. And I know it’s annoying.”
“Bev, it’s fine. I have to get out of here. I have to regroup. Start over. Do something different.”
“I’m going to miss you.”
“You can visit any time,” I said. “And I’ll be back here soon enough too. I love this city.”
“I made us shirts…”
“Of course you did.”
I grabbed my two bags and basically dragged them across the floor through the apartment.
There was an SUV waiting outside for me.
Already full of my stuff.
Bev tossed me a shirt.
Then she held one up to show me what it read.
Roommate.
I looked down at my shirt and I started to laugh.
Mine read Knocked Up Roommate.
Tears filled my eyes as I laughed.
I hugged Bev and felt my heart aching.
For a lot of reasons.
Bev grabbed my other two bags for me, and I carried the shirt down to the SUV.
I wiped the corners of my eyes and smiled as I got into the SUV.
It was all fake.
This was my worst fear.
The worst thing that could ever happen to me…
I had to move back to my old hometown.
The closer I got to my mother’s house, the sicker I felt.
I just pictured the town sucking people in and keeping them there.
There was never an escape plan.
At least not until I made one.
I woke up one day and left.
I moved to the city and figured it out day by day.
That had been the plan, and it worked.
Until I met Cole.
The SUV stopped outside my mother’s house.
The front door opened, then my mother stepped outside.
I let out a deep breath and got out of the SUV.
The driver opened the back and started to unload my bags for me.
I ran up the sidewalk, then up the old porch steps and hugged my mother.
“Hey, baby,” she whispered to me.
I fought the urge to cry.
It also helped that the baby kicked, making my mother shriek with happiness.
She broke the hug and put her hands to my stomach.
“She kicked,” Mom said.
“She?” I asked.
“Or he. You still don’t know?”
“No,” I said.
“You know, that made things tough here,” Mom said.
“What do you mean?”
The front door opened again and both Connie and Jen came rushing out, waving their hands, calling my name.
“Whoa,” Connie said. “You got huge.”
“Don’t tell a pregnant woman that,” Jen snapped.
“You said it to me,” Connie said.
“Well, you were huge,” Jen said. “Maya is pleasantly plump.”
“Pleasantly plump?” Connie asked. “That’s more offensive than huge. Right, Maya?”
“You’re both bitches for pointing out the obvious,” I said.
“You look beautiful,” Mom said. “Stunning. Pregnant and gorgeous.”
“I feel like a whale,” I said.
“Just wait until the very end of it all,” Jen said. “You’re not even close yet.”
“Well that’s comforting,” I said.
“Why don’t you two go get her bags and I’ll get her some hot tea,” Mom said.
I loved my mother’s tone too.
It wasn’t so much a suggestion but an order.
Connie and Jen listened too.
I followed Mom into the house and when I looked around, I fought back all those sad feelings about the house and the town.
Yeah, things were far from perfect.
But at least things were real.
I pointed to the cabinet I had fixed the last time I was there.
“Still works?” I asked.
“Smooth like butter,” Mom said. “Honey? Milk? Sugar?”
“I don’t need hot tea, Mom,” I said. “I need a drink.”
She gasped. “Don’t you dare joke about that. Alcohol and pregnancy do not mix.”
“I know,” I said. “Sorry.”
Mom looked at me and her mouth started to open when Connie and Jen came through the front door.
“How many bags do you have?” Connie yelled.
“A lot,” I said.
“Spoiled bitch,” Jen said.
“Take them up to the spare bedroom,” Mom said.
“Spare bedroom?” I asked. “I’m banished from my own room?”
“Kind of,” Mom said. “I want to show you something.”
She hurried toward me and grabbed my hand.
At the front door she looked outside. “How many bags do you have?”
“A few…”
She smiled. “I’ll be right back then.”
I stood there and watched as she, Connie, and Jen brought the rest of my stuff inside.
Once everything was upstairs, Mom took my hand again and told me to follow her.
All of us crammed up the narrow steps of her house.
The smell of the house would forever be with me.
Dust. Old wood. A very faint hint of cheap cleaning products.
But it was home.
At the top landing, Mom pointed to
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