tabitha smoked in bed. I didn't believe her anymore than the last time she said it but as she lit up she said. "This is going to be my last."
I never called her by her full name. tabitha to me, was the girl I had known from 1st thru 6th grade in catholic school.
to me it was always tabbie and she smoked in bed or at least she did, after tonight who knows.
I noticed a pregnancy test laying on top of her dresser but she dismissed any suspicion that it was hers.
Our friend Becca was the one who was supposedly late and then tabbie, she jokingly asks if it's was mine. "cool if it were." she said. Shed be okay with it, we could all live together and give the baby a funky name like something out of a Francesca Block book. I said maybe Katee Rose or Poppy but nothing like Weetzie bat or something crazy.
I figured she was lying about it being for becca and if it were tabbie's then it was possible it could be mine. It could be a handful of other guys' too. it's bad to say that, but really, 2 others, that I knew of.
" I know what you're thinking Christopher Robbins " She called me that after Winnie-the-poohs friend.
" I am ALWAYS safe" stressing the word always so that the s sounded like z's
She is saying this knowing full well, we had NEVER used anything. But before I could say it she says " Except with you"
" I'm the lucky one " I say.
She doesn't bother answering, she snuffs out her cigarette, stares at the ceiling, then closes her eyes.
" Question: then why are you quitting smoking?"
" Cancer stupid, now tell me a story"
Im think of something to say, I look at her and she is calm, her head against a black pillow-case. She's on the pill isn’t she?
I think about what it would be like for her to have my baby inside her. I kind of want the test to be for her, I wanted something that dramatic for us, some kind of experience we would never r forget. something ours. I remind myself she is on the pill, but what if she missed one, I mean she isn't the most responsible person. But look who's talking I fucked her and used nothing. I’m going to have to trust her, a silent prayer in the dark and feel a little relieved.
I begin to tell her a story about a a princess in space. She sighs approvingly. Her eyes closed she looks to be peaceful, almost- glowing. I reach out brushing her tummy lightly and she giggles. I glance at the test on the dresser beside her. It's mocking me. I need to know the answers and she won't tell me. Or she did and I just wasn't listening.
I'm sorry but I can't stand to read her blogs any longer or his or yours or mine. And when i see stanza lines of poetry they make me shutter instantly.
