Ghosted: Things Move A Little Faster (Part I)

Ghosted: Things Move A Little Faster (Part I)
“I-I-you-you're pregnant!” Robert yelled. She glared at him, and he rubbed his forehead. “That was stupid, sorry.” He breathed in deep, and tried to gather his bearings, but the more he looked at her stomach, the more his cool went out of the window. “What happened?!”

“How the hell should I know?! I woke up like this, Robert. I literally woke up looking like I’m four months pregnant.” She huffed. “Of course, I wouldn’t be one of those people who hardly show. Look at me; it’s only been a couple of days. What the hell is happening to me?!”

Robert folded his lips not wanting to freak her out more than they both already were. “Okay, so remember I told you that Heubert said this kind of pregnancy goes a little faster…I think this is what he meant.”

“What am I going to do?” Molly asked as she paced. “I haven’t told my friends or my job. I haven’t scheduled my ultrasound or started my prenatals. Do I even need prenatals? God, I hardly knew about this stuff between two living people; I definitely have no clue about it now. All I do know is I feel like I’m running out of time.”

Robert grabbed her shoulders, stopping her. “Hey, try to calm down, okay? You and the baby can’t handle the stress, especially considering we don’t know all the factors here.” She shivered at the coldness of his touch, and he pulled away. “Guess that's more of a sign than a ticking clock itself.” 

I wasted all that time being mad at him instead of getting to know him more. I can be such an ass sometimes.

She thought, but forced the thought from her mind determined she wouldn’t waste another minute of the time they had left together. “So, what’s the plan, baby daddy?”

He grimaced. “Will you stop referring to us as…that?” 

“What should I call us then?” She replied, smirking, it growing by the minute to match the redness of his cheeks. “I’m just teasing, but yes, I’ll stop saying it if it bothers you so much. We really do need a plan, though.”

“I got it! I’ll invite Heubert over. I just left his house; he should still be awake.”

“Wait, but I thought you said it wasn’t a good idea for me to meet him because of his psycho wife?”

“Yeah, well, we don’t really have a choice. Can you do me a favor, though, and, uh, hold down the fort? I have to run to the store and pick up some Remy Martin. Don’t ask.”



“Yeah, I’d say you're well into your first trimester,” Chelsea said as shifted her weight back and forth on Molly’s couch. “But you should definitely have an ultrasound ASAP to get a confirmation on the month.”

“Really? Can I have an ultrasound from a regular doctor? There isn’t like a ghost doctor or something I’m supposed to see?”

Chelsea scoffed. “Oh, goodness this is why you don’t get into a situation you know nothing about. No, there isn’t a ghost doctor you should see. Most ghosts and the living babies don’t inherit powers or anything while in the womb, so there isn’t anything that would raise a red flag. Plus, if the child managed to survive, they still wouldn’t show signs of powers until about age four or five, that’s if they have any at all.” Silence filled the room, and she shrugged. “What?”

“I guess I just somehow managed to put the thought of our baby not surviving to the back of my mind.” She rubbed her belly and avoided Robert’s intense gaze. “Anyway, how am I going to explain the growing every five minutes thing to the doctor and everyone else?”

“You won’t have another jump,” Heubert said. “Think of this as a jump-start to get everything going. I know it’s weird, but that’s just how this thing goes. Either way, you’ll progress normally from here on out, so no worries.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, chuckling. “I don’t think I could handle waking up tomorrow twice my size.”

Chelsea snickered. “Yeah, it’s a shame that you’re one of those who put on so much weight during pregnancy. Your three months looks like my six.”

Before Molly could respond, a loud bellow came from Heubert. “Chels, if you’re going to lie, at least do it in front of someone who hasn’t been married to you for all these years. Molly looks just fine. I remember your third month vividly. You were about as round as the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka.”

“Are you saying she looks better than me?” Chelsea asked, shooting daggers his way.

“No, I’m saying I couldn’t tell where you ended or began. You were as beautiful to me then as you are now, but I’m not about to fuel those lies that you’re telling Molly.”

“You’re awfully protective of little Ms. Molly’s feelings.” She stood and looked from one to the other. “Is there something I need to know?”