Deadbeat by Amy Sparling

Author:Amy Sparling [Sparling, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Amazon: B0082NA9MG
Published: 2012-05-11T05:00:00+00:00

I pick her up around six the next day. She meets me at her door wearing jeans and her pink hoody. Her hair is brushed, but the rest of her looks like she's just woken up.

"Did you forget we're going out tonight?"

"No, of course I remember."

"Are you wearing that?" I ask, not masking my shock. She looks at down at herself, stretches out her arms and shrugs. "What am I supposed to wear? Nothing fits."

"That's fine," I say, taking her hand. "You just usually get all dressed up for things like this." It's a nice way of saying she looks like shit, and she knows it.

"It's my birthday, and I'll look like a frumpy pregnant teen if I want."

We walk to my truck – well I walk, she waddles. My first instinct is to point it out and make fun of her, but in the spirit of giving her a good birthday, I say, "Doesn't matter what you wear, you're always beautiful."

She shakes her head, climbing into my truck when I hold open the door for her. "People at school call me fat behind my back. I've heard them." She hangs her head and pouts and it's adorable – fat cheeks and all. "Stop smiling!" she sneers.

"Sorry." As we drive out of her neighborhood, things are pleasant for about thirty seconds until she snaps at me.

"Put on your seatbelt."

In the least threatening way possible, I say, "Do you have to bark orders at me all the time?"

She crosses her arms, a stance she's grown fond of lately. "I'm just looking out for your safety since you refuse to do it."

A million rude comebacks find themselves on the tip of my tongue but instead of unleashing them, I bite down, tell myself to chill and try to have a good night.

The restaurant is nice, but our waitress is an overweight, haggard bitch who can't stop staring at my girlfriend's stomach. Elisa doesn't seem to notice but I sure as fuck do. Her disapproving looks are really pissing me off. She brings our drinks to the table and takes another sidelong, disgusted glance at Elisa and I lose it.

"Yes, she is pregnant. Thank you for staring so much," I spit out with venom. Elisa gasps. The waitress stutters some sort of apology and hurries off to hide in the kitchen. Elisa leans forward, her hands flat on the table. "I can't believe you just said that. It was rude."

"What's rude is how that bitch kept staring at you and making these looks like you were total trash."

"I am trash, Jeremy. I'm a pregnant teenager, have you forgotten?" She raises her menu so that I can only see her eyes. And they are hurt.

"That's not trash. There are tons of teen moms every year. And she's like forty years old and still a waitress, so she has no room to judge you."

"My mom was a waitress a couple years ago. Do you want to talk shit about her too?"

"God, Elisa…" I grab my hair with both hands, pulling it back hard so that it hurts.

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