We missed our fifteen minutes of fame. We totally would’ve rocked Sixteen and Pregnant. My life has never been the same since Sebastian Sacco. The deadbeat asshole who I thought I could change. Boy, was that young man fine, like melt your panties and made you fucking stupid kind of fine.
I was a smart girl back in the day with dreams to attend an Ivy League University. My parents were hard-working middle-class people who would have sent me anywhere I wanted to go, but I wanted them to live their life after I was gone, so I studied my ass off in hopes of getting a full academic ride. I wasn’t about to have them worry about paying for an education they couldn’t afford. So, I studied to become the best. I was a shoo-in for class Valedictorian since grade seven, and Sebastian made me dumb as a box of rocks with one smile shot in my direction.
My parents, God rest their souls, had me later in life, which led me to take care of them and an infant until it became too much. I was forced to put them in a nursing home after my father had a stroke, and my mother began to lose her mind. Dad passed away six months later, my mom a year after that. I was a twenty-year-old single mother all alone with not much of the life insurance left after giving my parents a celebratory goodbye.
Before my dad took a turn, he hated Sebastian. If he would have been capable, I believe he would have chopped his dick off like he threatened to do once he found out that asshole wasn’t going to help me out. Sebastian was the bad boy who moved to Austin our eighth-grade year, and by high school, he’d been through the squad of cheerleaders and even rumors of a few teachers. He was a God in our parts. Hung like a horse and could fuck like the king of th
em all. A stallion. I’m pretty sure that night after the football game, he swallowed all my brain cells.
They all say hindsight is twenty-twenty, so let me lay it out like this. Sebastian was a fucking miniature pony at a thoroughbred show. I know this from all the magazines I’ve seen dick pics in, plus my Saturday night date called porn.
Sex ed class was the easiest ‘A’ out of all my courses. I knew how babies were made, and did that matter? Hell no, not when Sebastian Sacco was dry humping me at a bonfire party. I was a bitch in heat for the man and have I mentioned dumb?
“Oh, baby, we don’t need a condom.”
Me, nodding and drooling at him like a dog does a treat. Of course, the stupid girl in me agreed. It was Sebastian Sacco after all, and he wanted me. Then he power humped me like a goddamn jackrabbit not taking any time or care. All I remember is the pain and mess of our aftermath.
Once Sleazy Sebastian Sacco conquered the class scholar he moved on to bigger and better things. I hope the bastard is rotting in some back alley right about now. Or worse, some father finally did catch up with him and sliced his dick off with a very dull machete.
He signed over all rights to the baby before he even knew the gender. I dropped out of school with a protruding baby bump. Eventually, I earned my GED, but my new job and love was a sweet little blonde bundle of joy, Kennedy Lane Grant.
I thank God every day she’s a shining image of me. I guess if I had to choose getting knocked up at sixteen, Sebastian’s genes were perfect with his dark hair and olive skin. But mine won and conquered his. I’ve never talked of the sleazy, slimy man and Kennedy has always been content, not knowing. All of my partying years were sacrificed for her. I wouldn’t change a thing as far as she goes. I only wish I could have given her a better life.
I smile over at my now twenty-four-year-old girl who’s sitting with her legs crossed on the floor unpacking the final box.
“Mom,” she squeals as she used too as a little girl.
I nod while swallowing down the last few drops of Pinot Noir wine. Sounds fancy, but it’s the cheap shit.
“Remember this?” She holds up a picture frame.
It’s an adorable picture of my awkward, toothy girl when she was in third grade. It was her birthday party that day. She’d been dying for a sleepover with friends from school and a spa party.
“Ugh, it was a total flop on my end. I ruined your party.” I sag into the worn cushions of my couch and drop my turkey chin to my neck.
“It was not. Clara’s face swelled so much that I thought it was going to burst,” Kennedy says, laughing. It’s funny now but, holy hell, it was a scary sight back then.
I’d thrown together a party, but the face mask mixture I made was an epic fail. It dropped off the one to ten scale and crashed. I’d been so excited being able to put it together that it was an oversight when I had added the hair remover cream to the mixture.
I was never a favorite of the moms after that incident. Whatever, they were fake and phony and prided themselves with showing off the money they probably didn’t raise a well-manicured finger to earn.
“It was the best party ever,” Kennedy sighs while gazing at the picture.
And that right there is why my world always continues to spin. She’s been grateful for everything even if it was subpar. Dozens of missed field trips because I couldn’t afford to miss a day of work. Hell, I never was able to sign up as a room mother, and always-cheap store-bought cupcakes for her classroom parties were our reality. My butthole would pucker when I’d drop her off on party days and see all the extravagant cupcake tours and other shit that I would never have the means to provide.
Kennedy never complained and to see her shine like the star she is, the brain, the talent, and the beauty she has on the inside makes me the wealthiest mother in the world. I’d do it all again if I had too.
“Mom.” Kennedy crawls across the worn-down carpet. “Are you going to be okay?”
My head swims, and I try to blame it on the wine coursing through me, but it’s not. Just when I had a halfway decent house, I was in the process of renting to own; it was swept out from under my feet. Some asshole, bigwig corporation mongrel flew in and bought the land to build a strip mall, leaving me homeless.
Okay, homeless is a bit of an exaggeration. The corporation paid off the current owner of the house, and I got the boot.
Kennedy took it as her opportunity to move out into her a place of her own. Hence, the reason why I’m now living in a one-bedroom shitty apartment. She’s always wearing a shield of guilt with me wanting to help her. I’m the one who should hold that emotion, never her.
“I’ll be fine.” I finally reply with deflated shoulders. I will be fine too. I always am. It won’t be easy without her being here with me, but it’s time to let her fly on her own.
“We can have sleepovers and spa dates, but no hair remover cream.” She states, jokingly.