The One That Got Away

Chapter 2

It was totally not a good idea.

For one thing, marriage was a whole other ball game from dating. For another, the parents were keeping their distance what with Monique and Oliver having eloped and the fact that they weren’t even aware in the first place that they were dating. They felt cheated…understandably; Monique could give them that. But she needed her mother now, and she didn’t know how to go about getting her back. Oliver’s parents were distant at best; horrified at worst. Their dreams for their son didn’t include teenage marriage and to some black girl no less. Monique got the feeling that they thought she had trapped him in some way. I mean sure, he had a trust fund; but it wasn’t that large and they had to be frugal. Babies were expensive and they were no longer on their parent’s medical plans. The pre-natal vitamins alone…

For another thing, there was still school to contend with; Monique found that she was exhausted and nauseous all the time and in spite of not really showing yet, she felt as heavy as a wide load truck. It didn’t help with cheerleading or paying attention in class.

Oliver on the other hand, was fine. He could still play football, the smell of fried stuff didn’t drive him to want to empty the contents of his entire body, he had no mood swings; and, he had a s*x partner in his bed every single day of the week. Life couldn’t be better for him. Monique resented the hell out of the entire situation. But she didn’t know how to express that resentment without coming off as a spoiled brat. It made her want to scream.

*****

There were definitely days where Monique thought she was about thirty seconds away from waking up from a sixties housewife’s fantasy, checked apron and polyester clothing in place with Oliver smoking a pipe while reading the paper. This — all this – was something that she would’ve dreamed about a lifetime ago, back when she was a kid struggling to get out from under her father’s thumb. Married and pregnant, living in a house on the outskirts of Miami, juggling high school, pregnancy and a husband… Monique might have dreamed of parts of this life… but definitely not like this.

Years ago, she thought she’d be happiest with a life like this. But now it had become weird. The June sun beat down heavy on Monique’s back as she pulled herself out of the car into the heavy heat. She was already beginning to sweat, her skin sticky with it, even though she’d spent maybe a grand total of five minutes outside the entire day. The Jeep was in the driveway, so she didn’t even bother taking out her key, and once inside the house she relaxed a little. It’d been a long day of chemistry and literature followed by lumbering about trying to keep up in cheerleading practice, and all she really wanted was some dinner and an early night. Which, she realized, was pretty pathetic coming from a seventeen year old who should be living it up and enjoying life.

She was barely inside the front hallway before their dog trotted out of the living room and jumped up on Monique, bracing his front paws on Monique’s leg. Monique absentmindedly petted him behind the ears, smiling a little at the snuffling noises of approval, and then Bobbi was running out, a homemade magic wand in her right hand.

“Chester, we weren’t done,” she complains. “Oh! Hi, Aunt Momo! You made Chester run away and we were still playing dress-up!” Sure enough, Chester had a makeshift skirt tied around his waist and an off-kilter Minnie Mouse headband behind his ears.

“Hi, baby girl,” Monique replied as she gave her legs a brief hug, resting her hand on the top of her head. “Looked like you’ve been busy.” Behind her, Chester grunted and pawed at the headband.

“Uncle Ollie said it was a good idea,” she declared. “He said there wasn’t nothing I could do to make Chester more of a girl. But that’s silly, ‘cause Chester was definitely a boy.”

“Your Uncle Ollie’s just being mean,” Monique said.

“Chester’s a good dog,” Bobbi said in a pouty voice. “He likes to play with me and he’s my size! Little like me.”

“That’s right,” Monique said absently. “Where was your Uncle Ollie?”

“Watching TV,” Bobbi replied dismissively. “It’s boring. He won’t let me watch cartoons.”

“How about some books instead?” Monique asked, shrugging off her backpack. “I brought some home for you.”

“Ooh!” Bobbi chirps. “More Peewee Camp? Or scary books?”

“BFG,” Monique said, “and some other stuff that’s popular for kids your age. I really liked the BFG when I was little. It might be a bit hard for you, though.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m smart,” Bobbi said, already digging through Monique’s book bag. “I like this one!” She held up a book of fairy tales and scampered off. Chester looked up at Monique, and Monique just laughed, stooping low to free Chester from his costume.

“Good boy,” Monique said, patting Chester’s head. “Let’s go find Oliver.”

Oliver was, just as Bobbi said, camped out in front of the TV, watching some History Channel special on historic sporting events.

 “How unexpected,” Monique said dryly. “You know, your adopted niece was just traumatizing the dog while you watched this crap.”

“Don’t act like you’re not interested,” said Oliver. “This sh*t was awesome. And unless she ate its leg or something, the dog’s fine.”

“Don’t even joke,” Monique warned. “Just because you think it’s emasculating to have a small dog doesn’t mean you can be a di*k about it. Besides, I know you love the thing. Your posturing doesn’t work with me.”

“You’re in a prissy mood,” Oliver said. “Relax. Felicity’s bringing over some dinner, the kid’s fine, we have a good two hours of primo television on the recorder… stop being such a stick in the mud.”

The mention of Felicity made Monique’s heart stutter-skip in an angry sort of rhythm, but she didn’t comment, choosing instead to sit down. “Stick in the mud? Seriously, Oliver? What are you, eighty?”

“Shaddup,” Oliver said. “I’m trying to watch this.”

Monique rolled her eyes and tried to concentrate on the show rather than the fact that Felicity was bringing them take-out for the third time this week. She’s a point of contention between her and Oliver, and she never failed at putting Monique in a bad mood, even though most of the time Monique was pretty sure she didn’t mean to.

Felicity was an immigrant from Texas as well; she and Oliver had hit it off at the antenatal clinic where she worked as a candy striper. She was Bobbi’s mother and a single parent and Oliver had taken to mother and daughter like the over-protective, nurturer he was. Bobbi practically lived with them; it gave Felicity the perfect excuse to be over all the damned time. Monique could deal with it were it not for the two things going against her: one, she was gorgeous and two, she’s definitely in love with Oliver. Oliver agreed with the whole gorgeous shtick but he firmly denied the less-than-platonic feelings.

“She knows you’re my only girl,” Oliver would say whenever Monique brought it up, and it was too much of a hassle to argue her point, because no matter what she said, Oliver never listened. Not about Felicity. And it drove Monique crazy.

Sure enough, barely an hour later, when Monique was tied up trying to coax an apathetic Bobbi to wash up, Felicity burst through the front door without knocking. She had a full bag of food from her mother’s diner, and Bobbi immediately broke away from Monique to give her an enthusiastic greeting.

“Hi, sugar,” she said, laughing, coming into the kitchen and setting the bag down on the table.

“Did you bring me pie?” Bobbi demanded.

“Wouldn’t forget it,” Felicity responded conspiratorially and Monique sighed a little. Bobbi was meant to be spending the week while Felicity studied for some exam. It was going to be hard getting Bobbi to bed when she was hyped up on sugar. Monique made a mental note to coerce Oliver into doing it and headed over to the table to see if Felicity had brought her roast beef or if she had “forgotten” again and got her chicken salad even though Monique hated it.