[Untitled] ch. 1 (rough draft)

         I take in a deep, long breath... and slowly exhale. Laying on my bed, the memory foam and down comforter beneath me embrace my body into a loving hug. I cuddle with a pillow for the longest time, thinking about where I am in my life, how I got here, where I thought I would be and where I wish I were.
         Then it hit me. Or kicked, rather. I rub my pregnant belly, as if that will actually prevent further internal abuse. It never works, but I do it anyway. The first kick is like feeling a rain drop tap your head in the middle of April; once it falls, you know there are many more on the way. The difference is in the rain you can pop open an umbrella, or run for cover; as for the kicks - until the anesthesiologist hooks you up with that epidural, the only thing you can pop is a Tylenol or two.
         After the word 'epidural' crosses the path of my brainwave, my mind races and I begin to picture the bittersweet unknown ahead of me. After watching TLC's A Baby Story everyday for the past few months, I have plenty of base material for my imagination to work with.
         ...Unfortunately.
         I suddenly hear the familiar jingling of keys in the front door.
         Sigh.
         Of course.
         Jarrod must have received a telepathic SOS message reporting that my current state was one of relaxation and joy. So here he is, asshole to the rescue – here to completely jack up the rest of my day!
         “Hey,” he comes in, scanning the room as he usually does, expecting to find a naked man (or two) lounging around, “What are you doing?”
         Ugh. Besides trying not to slap the retard out of you??
         “Nothing.”
         “OH! Oh yeah, I bet. So why didn't you reply to any of my text messages?”
         Holy crap...
         ”Phones in the living room, Jarrod. Charging. Why? What did you have to say?”
         “What?! Okay!”
         “Relax, Lil Jon.”
         “What kind of bullshit is that, Cammie?? You always have your phone by you! What's going on? You didn't write back because you were too busy talking to someone else, weren't you?” He stomps to the living room, returning with my cellphone in hand and face glowing from my back light. 
         “Excuse you! Give me my phone.”
         “Excuse you. I won't have some slut laying around my house all day with guys running in and out while I work my ass off for 12 hours out of the day.”
         “Jarrod! I'm five months pregnant! I'm as big as a Goodyear blimp right now! What guys,” I paused to collect myself, “Just... fuck you. That's all, Jarrod. Fuck you.”
         “Yeah. Yeah,” he nods his head like an obnoxious over sized bobble head doll in the center of my dashboard, “maybe if you were doing that I wouldn't even suspect the shit! You'd get away with it scotch free!”
         He tosses my phone on the bed, “Must've deleted all their messages. Smart. You think your real smart.”
         “Jarrod, you think your real smart.. but you're ignorant. Go back to work.”
         “Well why? Huh? Someone on their way over? Why don't I just stick around for a few minutes then? Y'know, so I can meet the dick that's been taking care of my pussy while I'm out raising the funds for this household!”
         I chuckle. What a piece of shit.
         Jarrod's cellphone rings and to my total relief, I can hear his boss on the other end asking him where the hell he is. He makes up some bullshit about being tied up in traffic and says he's on his way back from his lunch break. He hangs up, glares at me and then stomps out the door.
         I take in a deep, long breath... and pop another Tylenol.
         Damn rain drops.