Emily Uncensored Book 3: It's Complicated Read online

  Emily Uncensored

  Book 3: It’s Complicated

  Fiona Lexus

  PandaFox Publishing

  Contents

  1. Wild Card

  2. Reality Check

  3. Grandmummy

  4. The Inevitable

  5. The Sex

  6. Helping Cindy

  7. Grumpy Emily

  8. Finding Out

  9. Mexican

  10. Senile

  11. Dinner

  12. Old People

  13. Reunion

  14. Thunder From Down Under

  15. Delivery

  Author’s Notes

  Also by Fiona Lexus

  Copyright © 2017 by Fiona Lexus

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Book cover by Humble Nations

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  www.fionalexus.com

  For women who choose to have children.

  For women who chose not to have children.

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  1

  Wild Card

  The image: all of us together, hair flying in the wind.

  A baby cries.

  But we don’t care because we have only one destination: the park.

  Cindy: Black tank top with a pearl necklace, skinny jeans and a Macchiato in one hand, tote bag the diapers in the other. Two small children running in front, screaming “Park! Park!”

  They are pretty annoying.

  Kathy: Blue jumpsuit, new Nikes treading the asphalt. Gucci baby bag on one arm, tiny blonde boy in the other. Huge diamond ring glistening in the sunlight, and a matching diamond bracelet. Her hair is flowing and she gives no fucks.

  Darlene: jean skirt and flip-flops, faded grey sweatshirt, she is the Ford Pinto of the group and keeps us grounded. Pushing her stroller, she struts while pushing her large sunglasses up on to her head.

  Her child yells out “I’m so excited!” as we reach the grassy edge of the park.

  Me, Emily: not quite a protruding belly, but feeling fat nonetheless. Large flowing hippy shirt. Ears bedazzled by some hoops, lipstick applied, and sunglasses on.

  I am the wild card.

  A true official mom squad bitch.

  And I am ready for this baby. I am loaded up on Fritos and cheddar dip, and looking for some mom time.

  I have given up smoking (obviously), but the drinking part has been way harder than expected. Luckily, I have the very best friends anyone could ask for and they buy me virgin drinks. Those drinks bring with them nostalgic tastes and smells from a time of yore.

  Darlene is sweet enough to agree to stop drinking with me for the nine months this bread is baking in the oven.

  Cindy on the other hand is ruthless. She still brings her flask to the park. I would say she’s pretty much the worst example of a mom ever, but I know her too well for that. I know how great of a mother she actually is. Her kids never even know she drinks.

  And mostly it’s just for show and humor.

  She keeps her shit together.

  I have never seen her even raise her voice to her children. It’s like she turns into a fucking nun around them.

  I ask her, “How do you do it?”

  And she answers, “It will come naturally once you have one of your own.”

  God I hope so.

  I mean you never know what’s going to come flying out of this mouth of mine. I feel sorry for Jonathan. He has been a saint these past few months.

  I was supposed to go shopping the other day for children’s books and instead I came home with more erotica.

  My favorite: DORA, DORA, DORA: THE DIRTY ADULT EXPLORER. I found such irony in those words, that I had to swoop it up. And it’s not half bad.

  Jonathan was not as amused and he scolded me saying that I will never get the nursery done unless I stop joking around and take this mom thing a little more seriously.

  I know.

  But it’s hard for me.

  Cindy and the other ladies have written down notes and ideas on motherhood. They are keeping me in the loop on their park time activities. Darlene even hooked me up with her awesome maternity masseuse.

  I was scared shitless before, but now I am just sort of getting used to the vomiting and hunger rage.

  Yesterday, in fact, I was with Cindy at the market, and I puked right into the trash can out front.

  “What? You’ve never seen a pregnant lady puke? Keep moving!” Cindy defended me.

  I laughed as I wiped the vomit with my Hello Kitty sweatshirt.

  We made our way into the store, which was a bad idea because I was so hungry, I started opening the food we were buying and eating it right there in the aisle. Cindy gave me a look.

  “What? I’m going to buy it!” I say as I stuff my face with BBQ Lays potato chips.

  She put a stop to it just as I was twisting off the whip cream bottle cap.

  “Emily, there’s hunger pains, and then there’s just making as ass of yourself. Cool your jets psycho. You don’t need the whip cream, you only think you do.” She put it back on the shelf and we continued walking.

  “But, Cindy, seriously, when is this going to pass? No one ever tells you what it’s like.” I was throwing myself a pity party.

  “Actually love, there are millions of books out there that tell you what it’s like and how to deal with it. But you choose to read about steamy, hunky men, who pee on their girlfriends in the shower.”

  She had a point.

  “So you’re saying I should take this more seriously?” I stopped the cart at the Bologna.

  “Just a tad,” Cindy smirked and pushed my cart along.

  “And from now on, I am doing your grocery shopping. This is absurd. You’re like a wild animal.”

  But today at the park, my stomach is feeling fine, and I decide to practice my motherhood skills on my friends children. I realize I do not know them very well at all.

  Kora is Cindy’s youngest. She’s small, I’m not sure how old and it doesn’t really matter. She still needs help being pushed on the swing if that says anything.

  So I do.

  I push her.

  She giggles and I even teach her how to pump her legs so she can do it herself.

  This is how I explain it:

  “Ok Kora, feet back to your butt, then up like an erection. Back to your butt, up like an erection. See how easy it is babe?”

  Cindy is tilting her head sideways about to scold me. But then she realizes: It’s fucking working! This little babe in pig tails finally knows how to pump.

  Kora starts screaming “Mommy look! Back to de butt, Up like e-wek-shun!” And she is smiling and Cindy claps her hands and I am very proud of myself.

  I dust my hands off like a weathered man who has just come in from a long day working in the fields. I sit on the bench and as Cindy sits next to me she pats my leg.

  “Honey, you might want to wait until your child is older to teach them ‘erection’.” She smiles and waves at Kora who is pumping her little ass off now and happier than ever.

  “Ya, I know. But with her speech impediment, Kora sounds so cute saying it.”

  Cindy goes to slap me, “She doesn’t have a speech impediment you ass! She’s just delayed.”

  I put my hands up in surrender.

  Darlene and Kathy come over from their time in the sand-box.

  “I have sand in my crotch I’m pretty sure.” Kathy says as she’s picking at her wedgie.

  “Kathy, you are so gross. How did you get sand up there in the first place? Darlene asks.

  “I don’t have panties on. They are all in the wash.” Kathy sits and winces.

  “Wow, seriously? You ran out of underwear?” I say as I scoot away from Kathy like she has some sort of disease.

  “You will understand when you have your kid, honey. There isn’t a whole lot of time for yourself.” Kathy smiles and looks at the other ladies for confirmation.

  “I don’t know Kathy, I always seem to find undies. Even if they are granny panties. I mean it’s sort of essential at our age.” Cindy jokes.

  “Not me! I’m just a baby!” I say with my chin up.

  “A baby, having a baby.” Cindy strikes.

  “True.” I admit.

  Darlene smiles down at me, “You won’t regret it, Emily. It’s just the best.”

  I know what she is talking about, but I decide to joke it off with,”Going panty-less? No thank you!”

  And then we all sit and stare at Kora screaming, “To de-butt, up like e-wek-shun!”

  Priceless.

  2

  Reality Check

  It is a Saturday and I am sleepy.

  I wake up to Gertie cleaning herself by the window. I stretch and reach across for my personal man-hunk, Jonathan, but he is not there.

  Figures.

  He can’t help himself.

  If he doesn’t stick to his routine of waking up at 5AM, run, take shower 6:15 AM, get dressed, eat at kitchen table 7AM, he might kill himself.

  “It’s Saturday!” I yell as I come into the kitchen to find him in his usual garb. He is fully dressed as if he’s going to wo
rk. He promised me wouldn’t work Saturdays anymore, since I am having his freaking baby!

  Dammit!

  Wait…

  I have to puke.

  I run into the bathroom and slam the door.

  I can hear Jonathan shouting at me, “I am not working if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  I wipe my mouth as I open the bathroom door which, luckily for me, is located pretty close to the kitchen.

  I look like a hot mess, but I am.

  I am four months pregnant and still spilling my guts every few hours.

  “It’s normal and healthy!” Cindy keeps telling me.

  I pour some coffee into a cup.

  “You aren’t supposed to drink that, babe?” Jonathan says with judgment.

  “Oh, right. Can you make me some DeCaf then? I just really like the taste.” I turn to give my puppy dog eyes.

  “You are lucky you’re pregnant Miss Hawkins, or I might have to punish you for your lack of responsibility.” Jonathan comes over to me and grabs my ass.

  He then feels my stomach.

  “You still can. I mean it won’t hurt me. Just be gentle.” I say as I bite into the banana that I peeled.

  I use it in a sexual way and Jonathan laughs.

  “Do you think you can be serious for like a half an hour while I talk with you about something?” Jonathan asks as he makes my coffee.

  “Uh, ya I think I can. No promises though.” I am laughing and take a seat in his chair. He points for me to move.

  “Make me.” I smirk and bite into the last of my banana.

  Jonathan comes over and picks me up like a baby.

  I guess I forgot how strong he is.

  “You won’t be able to do that for long. I’ll be Orca size in no time.” I say as he puts me down in the chair across from his.

  “Just watch me,” Jonathan sits, and shuffles around some papers.

  I watch him take a deep breath. I chuck my banana int he trash which is about ten feet away. I raise both hands in the air and yell, “score!” And then turn around and put on my ‘serious face’.

  “You ready?” Jonathan asks.

  “I am timing you, and you have thirty minutes of serious Emily starting now.” I look down at my fake watch on my wrist.

  Jonathan rolls his eyes. He is not amused.

  “OK, so I have been working for your father on a case for almost a year now. And he and I agreed to not tell you or your mother about the case, but now it’s time.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

  “Oh exciting shit. Fill me in.” I say, as I lean in and put my elbows on the table and rest my head in my palms.

  “Don’t get too excited, Emily. Your father has three different lawsuits against him. And he is losing two of the three.” He pauses.

  “Oh, that sucks.” I say and sit back in my chair, bored.

  “No, you see, he is going to have to file for bankruptcy. He is literally losing everything.” Jonathan takes another sigh.

  “Oh my God. Mom is going to be furious.” I chew on my lip. This news is really surprising, because the way my parents spend money, you’d think they owned have of San Fransisco.

  “Is that why you bought dinner a few months ago? Like in the summer, or whatever, we went out to eat and you spent almost thirteen hundred dollars on dinner.” I ask as I get up to pour my Decaf coffee that is ready.

  “Well, I don’t remember exactly, but probably. He has been having money troubles for some time. In fact about two months ago I started working his case Pro Bono.” Jonathan tells me, reluctantly I can tell. He is staring at me and hoping that I will let that go.

  “So you’ve been working every Saturday almost for the past year to get my dad out of this shitty mess?” I sip the warm, brown liquid.

  “Yes, his case and others, but mainly his. Our firm works exclusively with your dad now. It just started out with me taking an interest in his company. Then we met for drinks. I found out he was your father, and so on and so forth. You know how the rest turns out.” Jonathan reaches for his pen and starts chewing on it.

  Poor bastard.

  “OK, so his company is going under. He is filing for bankruptcy. Doesn’t he have cash stashed away? What about my mother’s inheritance?” I ask as I take another sip. I actually am being ‘serious Emily’.

  “Well, I’m not sure if I am the one who should be telling you this, but your grandmother didn’t leave your mom any money. She left her some vacation house in Vermont or something. I guess your mom doesn’t like to talk about it.” Jonathan puts his pen down and folds his hands together, anticipating more questions.

  “So, I am the only one who got anything?” I put down my cup and lean over the table.

  “I know this is going to sound really naive, but, how much did she leave me exactly?” I wince because I know Jonathan will think I am a total dumbass for not knowing what my inheritance is.

  “What do you mean? You don’t know how much money you have? Emily, c’mon.” He cocks his head to the side.

  I shrug still needing an answer.

  “Well, I can’t exactly answer that for you because you have one lump some that you received when she died, but you also got her trust fund which comes out once a year.” Jonathan messes around with some papers and pulls one up. From our bank account statements it seems like you receive ten-thousand dollars a month. It gets directly deposited from a bank in Zurich.” That’s all I can tell you.

  “Wow. That’s cool.” I pause and think, “What about all of the money I had when we met? Like what was in my Wells Fargo account?” I ask.

  “Babe, that’s what we used to by this house. You said you didn’t want to have to pay monthly bills. I told you that a mortgage isn’t a big deal. I believe the words you said were ‘too much energy, just buy the damn thing’”. He looks over at me and squints.

  I must be coming off as a total prick right now.

  “Oh, right.” I sit back and stare at him blankly.

  “Emily, you have got to be kidding me right now. Who ever taught you about money?” Jonathan puts down the stack of papers.

  “No one, I mean I just always had it. In abundance. I never really liked it and never usually bough anything except books and beanies. I just took out cash form my ATM when I wanted food, or a jacket or something.” I feel so stupid.

  “Okay. So when we decided to move out here. Well, I decided, and you were reluctant. Anyway, you wanted out of the city and you hated paying rent. I told you that if we bought something it should be in your name because I was still going through my divorce. I had you sign those documents remember? It had a large number on it. Which was how much this house cost you.” Jonathan gets up and pours more coffee.

  I watch him.

  This money talk is annoying.

  “I remember signing something, yes. I do not remember the amount the paper said. Sorry. Money is boring.”

  Jonathan sits back down and again, pulls out a piece of paper. He hands it across the table.

  “This is the document. Read it.” Jonathan sits back in his chair and waits.

  “Wells Fargo Bank, blah blah blah…Emily Ann Hawkins, blah blah blah…oh, here is it: $895,000.00.” My mouth drops open. I look up at Jonathan and then read the line again.

  “So, Miss Hawkins, you own a house. I was able to get you a deal, really. That price is down from $1.1 million. But the tree out front was cracking through the pavement and the roof needed a little work.” Jonathan looks pleased with himself.

  “From my calculations here, it seems like between your trust and the lump sum your grandmother left you, you are worth around 6million dollars, give or take.” Jonathan puts down his calculator.

  I scan the table in front of me, where all of his papers are scattered.

  I feel like a bitch.

  I feel selfish.

  I am selfish.

  I am a selfish bitch.

  “All of this time, I never even cared about money. I never cared enough to ask. I just never wanted to know I guess.” I put down the document form my hands. Jonathan and I are looking at each other. And then something dawns on me.

  “Ok, mister. So I bought this amazing house we live in. What do you pay for?” I have a very serious look on my face, but Jonathan starts laughing.