muse_shuffle || July Disc Two
Track 12. It’s a delightful curse to have wasted so much time
(Sarah Blasko - ‘Planet New Year’)
Ali stood in front of the mirror in nothing more than her underwear (complete with a bra that was now a C cup as opposed to her standard A). Her eyes were on the reflection of her belly and she tried to stifle a sigh before it escaped. She was nearly four months now and she was coming to the conclusion there was no more hiding it. She’d always been tall and slender; one of those people who could eat like a hippo and never put an ounce on. At least, that was the lay of the land before she got knocked up. Now her stomach had a distinct swell to it and if she stood side-on, it was evident she was either pregnant or had a rather large hernia.
She ran her hands over the new curve of her belly, still watching herself in the mirror. It felt weird knowing there was a baby in there. There hadn’t really been any movement yet, so was a bit surreal. She really was pregnant. Up until now, she had been able to get away with it, but now she was being forced into looser and baggier clothing, which she never generally wore, so it was going to be hard to pull it off much longer.
And now, after everything, she didn’t think she wanted to hide anymore. Hiding had gotten her where? Nothing but heartache and losing her two best friends. She was now miles and miles away from home, having spent the last three weeks with her little brother in LA and filling her time by listening to him run lines for his upcoming movie. When she’d first arrived, she’d broken down in his arms and confessed everything to him - sleeping with Mark on James’ birthday, getting pregnant by him, the almost-abortion, the choice to keep the baby, the second fuck with Mark, the ultrasound photo, the horrible fight with Izzy, and then her choice to run away from it all like a coward.
Max had listened. Max always listened and never judged her. He was like a male Izzy. That thought alone caused tears to well up in her eyes and spill over. She took her hands from her stomach to wipe them away. He’d listened, offered some ‘I’m a gay guy and can’t possibly understand but’ advice, mostly revolving around hints she should tell Mark and James, and then just listened some more, offering his shoulder any time the pregnancy caused her to burst into tears and sitting on the edge of the bath with her while she puked her guts up every morning without fail.
Half of her wanted to stay in LA with her brother. LA would be an okay place to raise the kid and she could get a transfer to the LA Bureau, but again, she knew it was the cowardly way. She couldn’t contemplate a move until she at least apologised to Izzy and she knew deep down her conscience probably wouldn’t let her keep the kid a secret from Mark forever. It wasn’t fair. He or she deserved to know their dad, even if daddy had a floozy bitchface for a wife and would probably suffocate the sprog with fake tits of plenty.
Ali drew a shaky breath and pulled a brand new t-shirt over her head and dragged it down over her stomach. It was a maternity shirt, but form fitting like many of her other clothes. Her style, but the knocked up version. The swollen belly was obvious. The fact she was pregnant was obvious. If she wore anymore loose fitting clothing to go home, people would jump on her immediately. Now that she was showing, she made the decision not to hide. This was it. Four months and counting.
Fucking damn, she was scared shitless.
Her phone started to ring where it was lying on the bed behind her, but she ignored it. Voicemail could pick it up. She wasn’t in the mood to talk and she knew if it was Max, he’d call his own landline as opposed to her cell. She moved on to the new maternity jeans and tugged them one, fastening them and pulling the shirt down over her stomach. She turned left, then right, then stood facing the mirror again, tucking her hands under the swell below her bellybutton. “What do you think, kid?” she murmured. “Your mum has retired the Guccis and she didn’t melt in horror.” Another sigh as she went to the bed to collect her cell.
Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all…
[agentcampbell & isabelowens referenced with permission]
Word Count | 766
(Sarah Blasko - ‘Planet New Year’)
Ali stood in front of the mirror in nothing more than her underwear (complete with a bra that was now a C cup as opposed to her standard A). Her eyes were on the reflection of her belly and she tried to stifle a sigh before it escaped. She was nearly four months now and she was coming to the conclusion there was no more hiding it. She’d always been tall and slender; one of those people who could eat like a hippo and never put an ounce on. At least, that was the lay of the land before she got knocked up. Now her stomach had a distinct swell to it and if she stood side-on, it was evident she was either pregnant or had a rather large hernia.
She ran her hands over the new curve of her belly, still watching herself in the mirror. It felt weird knowing there was a baby in there. There hadn’t really been any movement yet, so was a bit surreal. She really was pregnant. Up until now, she had been able to get away with it, but now she was being forced into looser and baggier clothing, which she never generally wore, so it was going to be hard to pull it off much longer.
And now, after everything, she didn’t think she wanted to hide anymore. Hiding had gotten her where? Nothing but heartache and losing her two best friends. She was now miles and miles away from home, having spent the last three weeks with her little brother in LA and filling her time by listening to him run lines for his upcoming movie. When she’d first arrived, she’d broken down in his arms and confessed everything to him - sleeping with Mark on James’ birthday, getting pregnant by him, the almost-abortion, the choice to keep the baby, the second fuck with Mark, the ultrasound photo, the horrible fight with Izzy, and then her choice to run away from it all like a coward.
Max had listened. Max always listened and never judged her. He was like a male Izzy. That thought alone caused tears to well up in her eyes and spill over. She took her hands from her stomach to wipe them away. He’d listened, offered some ‘I’m a gay guy and can’t possibly understand but’ advice, mostly revolving around hints she should tell Mark and James, and then just listened some more, offering his shoulder any time the pregnancy caused her to burst into tears and sitting on the edge of the bath with her while she puked her guts up every morning without fail.
Half of her wanted to stay in LA with her brother. LA would be an okay place to raise the kid and she could get a transfer to the LA Bureau, but again, she knew it was the cowardly way. She couldn’t contemplate a move until she at least apologised to Izzy and she knew deep down her conscience probably wouldn’t let her keep the kid a secret from Mark forever. It wasn’t fair. He or she deserved to know their dad, even if daddy had a floozy bitchface for a wife and would probably suffocate the sprog with fake tits of plenty.
Ali drew a shaky breath and pulled a brand new t-shirt over her head and dragged it down over her stomach. It was a maternity shirt, but form fitting like many of her other clothes. Her style, but the knocked up version. The swollen belly was obvious. The fact she was pregnant was obvious. If she wore anymore loose fitting clothing to go home, people would jump on her immediately. Now that she was showing, she made the decision not to hide. This was it. Four months and counting.
Fucking damn, she was scared shitless.
Her phone started to ring where it was lying on the bed behind her, but she ignored it. Voicemail could pick it up. She wasn’t in the mood to talk and she knew if it was Max, he’d call his own landline as opposed to her cell. She moved on to the new maternity jeans and tugged them one, fastening them and pulling the shirt down over her stomach. She turned left, then right, then stood facing the mirror again, tucking her hands under the swell below her bellybutton. “What do you think, kid?” she murmured. “Your mum has retired the Guccis and she didn’t melt in horror.” Another sigh as she went to the bed to collect her cell.
Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all…
[agentcampbell & isabelowens referenced with permission]
Word Count | 766