on_thecouch || 14.2 Curious
14.2. Curious
[Follows THIS]
Ali winced as the radiographer squirted the lube-like substance on her stomach. It was bloody cold and with a bladder full of half the New York water supply to ‘aid the ultrasound waves’, she wanted to grab the strange looking wand and give the woman a firm whack with it. First this blast of coldness and then she was going to be poked and prodded in the general bladder region… Why in the world did women choose to do this? Pregnancy sucked. It sucked arse. And she was only just beyond half-way.
“Do you want to know the sex, Alicia?” the woman asked with a smile as she started to brush the wand back and forth across Ali’s stomach, tapping random keys on the keypad before her. Just as Ali said ‘No’, her little brother Max, her accompaniment to the appointment seeing as he was here for a couple weeks from LA to visit her, said ‘Yes’. The radiographer raised her eyebrows with a laugh. “Well, which will it be?” she prompted.
Ali shot Max a glare. “It’s no. I don’t want to know. And please call me Ali.”
“Please, Al!” Max begged all over again. “I’ll babysit whenever you want!”
“You live in LA,” Ali snorted. “This isn’t eBay, pea brain. You can’t bid or bargain for my kid’s sex.”
Max screwed his nose up wryly. “Not knowing can’t make you distance yourself any further from Mark, sis. If you know, you can start preparing. You’ve prepared more for a day in Prada than you have done for this kid’s arrival,” he said, probably one of the very few who Ali would let away with a comment like that.
“I don’t want to know,” Ali bit out through clenched teeth.
“You do. You’re just scared to ask,” Max pushed.
“I’m not scared to slap you,” she threatened in return.
“I can see you with a boy. You can’t possibly spawn a sweet little girl. You’re going to have a boy and he’s going to be a right bastard,” Max sniffed.
“Don’t call my kid a bastard, arsehole! I don’t need the father to raise it. He was sperm. I’m the bloody mother!”
“Stop calling my niece or nephew an it,” Max said with a haughty eyebrow raised.
“It is an it.”
“No, it’s a boy or a girl and you’re too shit scared to know because then it will make it real,” Max argued. “In four months, you aren’t giving birth to an it, Al. You’re giving birth to a-”
“Oh for fuck’s sake! What are you, Dr Phil?” Ali jumped in, cutting him off. “Just tell us the goddamn sex before I shove that pointy thing up my brother’s butt!”
The screen above their heads suddenly lit up and the radiographer smiled as she pushed a little harder against Ali’s pregnancy swollen stomach with the wand. “There we go. There’s your baby at five months, Ali.” The radiographer had been silent through the whole exchange. She was used to domestic fights in her sonogram suite over whether or not to reveal the baby’s sex.
Ali stared up at the screen, the clear outline of not a Kermit-shaped blob anymore, but a baby crisply visible on the screen. She froze and fell silent, swallowing as she tried to link that image with the thing in her gut. It wasn’t just a blob, it was a baby. It was a baby inside her. Her baby. “W-What is it?” she asked hoarsely.
“It’s a boy! And what a boy!” Max cried proudly with a wide, smug grin.
“Sorry, sir, that’s the umbilical cord,” the radiographer said in amusement. Again, another common occurrence with male accompaniment. She frowned a little. “I’m sorry, Ali, but your little one isn’t going to cooperate today. The baby is in an awkward position to clearly see the sex. He or she has their legs crossed.”
Max tilted his head. “Sure it’s your kid, Al?” he asked jokingly and earned a sharp slap in the forehead from his sister.
“Can’t you just wait for them to uncross?” Ali asked, almost pleading.
“I thought you didn’t want to know,” Max said.
The radiographer shook her head. “It could be hours before it moves. I’m sorry, Ali. You’ll have another scan at seven months. We might be able to see then. Until then, stick to buying lemon,” she laughed. She printed out a couple of copies of the photo and handed them to Ali and Max. “All done. You can use the bathroom and get changed now. I’ll meet you out in at reception to sign the necessary forms.”
Ali was silent as the radiographer slipped from the room. She stared at the printout, feeling a wave of disappointment rush through her. It really was fucking Mark Campbell’s kid. Uncooperative and stubborn. But it was a kid… a baby, and here was the evidence. Evidence was something she knew really well and it couldn’t be argued with. In four months, she was going to be a mother. This thing with a nose and a head was going to come out of her and be completely reliant on her in every way. The realisation hit her like a tonne of bricks and she did the only thing she felt she could do in the situation…
Threw up all over brother.
Words | 890
[Follows THIS]
Ali winced as the radiographer squirted the lube-like substance on her stomach. It was bloody cold and with a bladder full of half the New York water supply to ‘aid the ultrasound waves’, she wanted to grab the strange looking wand and give the woman a firm whack with it. First this blast of coldness and then she was going to be poked and prodded in the general bladder region… Why in the world did women choose to do this? Pregnancy sucked. It sucked arse. And she was only just beyond half-way.
“Do you want to know the sex, Alicia?” the woman asked with a smile as she started to brush the wand back and forth across Ali’s stomach, tapping random keys on the keypad before her. Just as Ali said ‘No’, her little brother Max, her accompaniment to the appointment seeing as he was here for a couple weeks from LA to visit her, said ‘Yes’. The radiographer raised her eyebrows with a laugh. “Well, which will it be?” she prompted.
Ali shot Max a glare. “It’s no. I don’t want to know. And please call me Ali.”
“Please, Al!” Max begged all over again. “I’ll babysit whenever you want!”
“You live in LA,” Ali snorted. “This isn’t eBay, pea brain. You can’t bid or bargain for my kid’s sex.”
Max screwed his nose up wryly. “Not knowing can’t make you distance yourself any further from Mark, sis. If you know, you can start preparing. You’ve prepared more for a day in Prada than you have done for this kid’s arrival,” he said, probably one of the very few who Ali would let away with a comment like that.
“I don’t want to know,” Ali bit out through clenched teeth.
“You do. You’re just scared to ask,” Max pushed.
“I’m not scared to slap you,” she threatened in return.
“I can see you with a boy. You can’t possibly spawn a sweet little girl. You’re going to have a boy and he’s going to be a right bastard,” Max sniffed.
“Don’t call my kid a bastard, arsehole! I don’t need the father to raise it. He was sperm. I’m the bloody mother!”
“Stop calling my niece or nephew an it,” Max said with a haughty eyebrow raised.
“It is an it.”
“No, it’s a boy or a girl and you’re too shit scared to know because then it will make it real,” Max argued. “In four months, you aren’t giving birth to an it, Al. You’re giving birth to a-”
“Oh for fuck’s sake! What are you, Dr Phil?” Ali jumped in, cutting him off. “Just tell us the goddamn sex before I shove that pointy thing up my brother’s butt!”
The screen above their heads suddenly lit up and the radiographer smiled as she pushed a little harder against Ali’s pregnancy swollen stomach with the wand. “There we go. There’s your baby at five months, Ali.” The radiographer had been silent through the whole exchange. She was used to domestic fights in her sonogram suite over whether or not to reveal the baby’s sex.
Ali stared up at the screen, the clear outline of not a Kermit-shaped blob anymore, but a baby crisply visible on the screen. She froze and fell silent, swallowing as she tried to link that image with the thing in her gut. It wasn’t just a blob, it was a baby. It was a baby inside her. Her baby. “W-What is it?” she asked hoarsely.
“It’s a boy! And what a boy!” Max cried proudly with a wide, smug grin.
“Sorry, sir, that’s the umbilical cord,” the radiographer said in amusement. Again, another common occurrence with male accompaniment. She frowned a little. “I’m sorry, Ali, but your little one isn’t going to cooperate today. The baby is in an awkward position to clearly see the sex. He or she has their legs crossed.”
Max tilted his head. “Sure it’s your kid, Al?” he asked jokingly and earned a sharp slap in the forehead from his sister.
“Can’t you just wait for them to uncross?” Ali asked, almost pleading.
“I thought you didn’t want to know,” Max said.
The radiographer shook her head. “It could be hours before it moves. I’m sorry, Ali. You’ll have another scan at seven months. We might be able to see then. Until then, stick to buying lemon,” she laughed. She printed out a couple of copies of the photo and handed them to Ali and Max. “All done. You can use the bathroom and get changed now. I’ll meet you out in at reception to sign the necessary forms.”
Ali was silent as the radiographer slipped from the room. She stared at the printout, feeling a wave of disappointment rush through her. It really was fucking Mark Campbell’s kid. Uncooperative and stubborn. But it was a kid… a baby, and here was the evidence. Evidence was something she knew really well and it couldn’t be argued with. In four months, she was going to be a mother. This thing with a nose and a head was going to come out of her and be completely reliant on her in every way. The realisation hit her like a tonne of bricks and she did the only thing she felt she could do in the situation…
Threw up all over brother.
Words | 890