least I hope we are. I know I am.
"Don't you ever tell James this, but I'm really glad I had a big brother," I admit sheepishly. He laughs and walks back over to me.
"As the middle child, and only boy; I can promise you that having an older sister sucks," he admits. Now I'm laughing along with him. "But really," he says, his voice softening, "a little girl like you would be pretty cool." I sniffle at his words, tears threatening to spill; and I'm really damn sure now that I'm not just his best friend.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
(Brad)
I wouldn’t have her any other way.
I LEAVE COLLEEN in the bathroom and head down to my poor vomit-ridden truck and get to work on cleaning her out. She's a mess and she smells like shit, but I really don't care. Colleen might be pregnant. And the biggest, ear-to-ear grin lights up my face. I realize how stupid I look-- scrubbing up vomit and smiling like a fool. If vomiting is a sign that we're going to have a baby, then I don't care how many more times I have to clean up puke.
A baby.
My baby.
Our baby.
Despite how much I want this, I can’t help but think about how screwed up our relationship is. We’re off and then we’re on, but only for a moment because I look at her wrong or she only hears what she wants to. Then I get annoyed and she gets pissed and we’re left standing there, looking like the idiots we are. The only thing that’s changed since we were babies is that now we solve our arguments through sex. We both initiate it. Arguing is like our mating dance or something ridiculous like that.
The fact that we’ve been unable to mature any in the last thirty-five-odd years leads me to believe we’re going to raise some messed up kids. I mean, I think we’re capable of feeding and diapering and caring for a kid on a daily basis; but what will we be teaching them?
My brain hurts.
The thought occurs to me that even if, in time, Colleen learns to love me as more than just her best friend that we may never get along. We may never be Ward and June Cleaver who never seemed to fight and lived in this idealistic state of marital bliss at all times—not that I’m much like Ward Cleaver. Anyway. Colleen is definitely no June Cleaver, I can tell you that. I have never seen that woman make the bed or a decent meal in her life (not one that was edible anyway.)
I finish cleaning out Sweetness and I give myself a sniff. I stink pretty badly, but whatever. I’m going to buy a pee stick, not sit at some fancy dinner. So, I ignore the scent and grab my keys from my pocket, pulling out the spare to Colleen’s Honda. I know I’m going to stink her car up, and I can’t help from smiling. It serves her right. She’s just lucky I haven’t puked in this thing.
The drive to the drug store is short. I could have walked it, but I really don’t want to hold up this process any more. Colleen could be pregnant with our baby right now. Unfortunately, when I get to the drug store, it’s packed; which is strange for this time of night. Neighborhood folks form a line at the front registers that is at least ten people long. I groan. I hate waiting in line. I wish I had my badge right now. I could flash it and see all these people scatter. Well, okay, maybe not; but the thought is nice.
So, I finally make my way to the back of the store where they got condoms next to diapers and pregnancy tests next to drug tests. Huh. The aisle is empty, thank God. I feel like some kind of pervert, like I’ve done something wrong to be here. I feel like I did that time back in high school when James thought Darla was knocked up and she made him go buy a pregnancy test. She said not to tell anyone, so what did he do? He dragged me along. I remember standing there, my hands shoved in my pockets, looking like I had been the irresponsible jerk who felt like their life was about to end.
Why is he my best friend again?
Oh, that’s right. He’s not.
His obnoxious little sister is.
My wife.
And we’re back to present day and I’m standing here