A Little Bit Of Us

By: A. E. Murphy

(A Little Bit of Crazy Part Two)



Chapter One




Those stupid ass blue lines. I wish I’d just let the fucking doctor do the sonogram. But I was scared if I saw the baby I’d instantly make my decision. I can’t look after a kid, I can barely look after myself. I had a goldfish once, it died three days later… from choking on a stone. That fish sure loved the little stones at the bottom of its tank. I don’t even remember its name… maybe Goldie or Fishy or something. See? Point proven. I’m useless, I’m irresponsible… oh god. I’m fucking pregnant.



I let out an ear piercing scream and throw everything off the sink. It crashes to the ground but doesn’t satisfy my hunger for destruction. With another angry scream I kick the door open, stomp into my bedroom and start ripping clothes from my closet and throwing them. Because they aren’t going to fit me soon so now they are just offensive.

Strong arms wrap around me effectively stopping me in my tracks. Damn you Jacob Stone.

“Must destroy offensive material,” I say robotically and turn in his arms. “I hate my life. I’m screwed, totally and utterly screwed!”

He drags me out of my room and sits me at the breakfast bar. Then he puts a tumbler of whiskey in front of me. I stare at the amber liquid, my frustration rising. “I can’t fucking drink!”

“Tell me what’s wrong, have a sip, it’ll calm you down,” he chuckles and stands in front of me.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong is the man who loves me the man who I married to appease my father made me fall in love with him. Then I found his long lost brother and reunited them the same day I found out he thought I was cheating and got his own sweet revenge by cheating on me. And now we are divorced, and now I’m depressed. But to add to the situation. “That bastard planted his seed in me!” I shout and flick the glass. “No more alcohol. No more sexy body. No more boobs. No more damn freedom!”

Jacob blinks and staggers back a couple of steps, “Shit babe.”

“Yeah.”

“You need to call him.” I will do no such thing. I need to call nobody right now. What I need to do is come to terms with all of this. “He’ll be over the moon.”

He thinks I don’t know this… “One thing at a time. I need to go for the sonogram. Sort out the doctors. Call my shrink and fire her…”

“Fire her?” his lips quirk and his eyebrow shoots up. “Why’s that?”

I huff and stomp backwards and forwards across the tiled floor, “Because she’s not helped me at all. She tells me things I already know and then pretends she knows something about it.”

“She probably does know something about it. Now stop diverting from the situation at hand. You’re pregnant. Congra...”

“Don’t say it,” I screech and raise my hand. He stops, stares and laughs silently. We both stare at my belly where there’s an invasion going on. “I’m going to get fat.”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to be a single mom.”

“No you’re not, James would never let you...” he trails off when he catches my glare. “This is all going to be fine. You’ll see.” Good save.

“Whatever, let’s go… umm… well I can’t go drinking. Fuck. Let’s go for a walk. We can practice your lines on the beach. I want to be Penelope again. She’s cool,” I ramble and grab the scripts from the drawer under the counter. He shrugs, grabs his shades and links my arm through his. “I’m screwed.”



He doesn’t disagree because he knows right now I’ll probably beat him if he does. Instead he drags me out into the sun and we head down onto the soft sand behind his house. I sit on the golden grains and open the white script. “Oh my dearest Georgie, how I do love the’,” I put on a high pitched tone and flutter my eyelashes at Jacob. He frowns and barks, “Read it properly bitch.”

“Well I never,” flutter, flutter, pout, chin raise, pout. Smack, his booklet connects with the back of my head. “Shouldn’t hit a pregnant woman.”

“Oh yeah, shit I’m sorry,” he looks concerned and panicked. I hold my stern face for all of three seconds before I charge with a battle cry worthy of the big screens, dive on his back and hit him repeatedly on the head with my own book. He cries out and drops us onto the sand. “Bitch.”

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