Even If He Comes, Won't He Be Disguised?

She watched his face as he entered her again and again, thrusting in and out confidently. She touched the back of his neck and he closed his eyes as his hands grasped the sheets in excitement… she knew it would be over soon. She made a noise, knowing it could put him over the edge. It didn’t. She touched the small of his back. Cum already she thought.

Three months later she was over the bathroom sink, anxiously awaiting BLUE OR PINK BLUE OR PINK.

Of all the men she could have ended up with, all the men she could have pro created with, she allowed herself to settle for him, merely because he knocked her up during another long, boring fuck. She wanted him to cum then so badly, to get it over with, but now she would do anything to go back in time and make him leave. She planned on breaking up with him last month until she noticed her period was alarmingly late.

She opened the bathroom door. “I’m pregnant.”

“No shit.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Okay sorry.”

She walked past him and whispered in his ear, remembering he’s working right now, his boss is right around the corner, “I don’t know about us any more. I haven’t known for awhile. I just haven’t told you.”

“What…?”

She said nothing. He waited for her response patiently as the silence hung over them, obvious and flashy like the chandeliers in the lighting store.

“I don’t see us having a future together. But we are.”

“We are…?”

“Yes, you’re helping me raise the child.”

“But you…I don’t want to be with you if you don’t want to be with me.”

“We’re having a baby you dick. It’s not about what we want any more. When the hell are you ever going to grow up?”

The image of his hot breath in the dry, cold winter air was scarcely bolder than hers as they walked outside the store later that evening. Partially because he was trying to show he breathed more, in her opinion. If he was a little better at anything than she was, he always made a point to make a point of it. It really ticked her off. She felt so bored listening to his ramblings which she knew were the result of his fear of realizing she knew things he didn’t know. Which of course, was the truth. He was afraid of the truth. Men love lies, which is why they love women.

“Okay, so let’s start our life together. Our life which was tragically forced upon us,” he laughed, “You selfish bitch. Pick one. You can’t break up with me and then tell me I have to be with you anyways. You should have either secretly gotten rid of it and broke up with me or stayed with me, kept the baby, and kept your ideas of breaking up with me to yourself.”

“And lie to you about my feelings? Would that make you happier? Do you prefer happy lies to unfortunate truths?”

“Yes. We all do.”

“Happy lies are the reason Americans are so depressed now. We were all told about Santa Clause, the tooth fairy, the Easter Bunny…we were told we could be and do anything we want. Lies. And they lead us to believe we have failed somehow, a direct cause of our discontents. I’d rather have a child born unto truth, so that it may grow old and know that life is not all happy…”

“Fuck.”

“Yes, we did. That’s how I got to be the way I am today.”

She brushed some hair away from her face and wondered, at what time in my pregnancy will I begin to feel little feet kicking the walls of my abdomen?