Liddell Notebooks

“What is that?”

“Casper, there’s something I have to tell you,” Azalea has that look in her eyes that tells me she’s terrified and is probably going to lose her nerve and end up saying nothing real soon. So I don’t say anything, just waiting for her to continue, not wanting to accidentally say anything that’ll make her change her mind.

It takes her a couple minutes to work up the nerve, but finally she lets out a breath and says, “I’m pregnant.”

I look at her, surprised. “Are you sure?”

She rolls her eyes, “No, I just have a tummy ache and am jumping to wild conclusions.”

Unsure if she’s joking, I ask, “Are you?”

“No, I’m not! I’m pregnant, I swear. But look, if you don’t want to raise the baby, that’s fine, I’ll just move back in with my parents or somethi-”

“Marry me.”

“Ever since we first met, honestly. But I’m a coward. Clearly, sleep deprivation makes me more of an idiot than a coward. Idiots don’t think. Which was apparently exactly what I needed to do. Or, not do.”

I shake my head, “Azalea, what are you talking about?” My head’s starting to hurt as much as my chest, trying to figure it out.

Azalea finally looks at me. “I love you, Casper.”

“You...what?” I just look at her, not sure if I even heard her right.

“I’ve been in love with you since I moved in. If you don’t feel the same way, I can move out, or--”

“No,” I say quickly, cutting her off. “No, you don’t have to move out. You can’t move out, we’ll both be homeless by winter. I mean,” I shake my head, trying to get my thoughts together. That wasn’t exactly what I’d wanted to say. “You don’t have to move out. I love you too.”

“You do?”

“I have for months,” I nod.

“Are you okay?” I ask, sitting down beside her. She’s been sitting out on the front porch for a little over an hour now.

“I’m trying to decide if I should ask whether or not last night was a dream,” she admits quietly, reluctantly.

“You weren’t that tired. It wasn’t a dream,” I tell her. She nods slowly, not saying anything. I open my mouth to say something, ask something, but nothing comes out. My heart pounds as I worry that she wishes last night had never happened. Part of me has to hear her say it, but all of me is afraid that she will.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says. I still don’t say anything, even though I want to know what she’s apologizing for, exactly. I don’t trust my voice though. “God, I don’t know what I was thinking,” she shakes her head. I look away from her, understanding what she’s talking about now. “Well, obviously I wasn’t, for once, thankfully.”

Frowning, confused, I look at her again. “Thankfully?” She’s still not looking at me.

She sighs, “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to say something to you for months.”

“Casper, there’s...something I want to tell you...” she says slowly after several more minutes of silence, during which I’d thought she’d fallen asleep. I look at her again, but she’s not looking at me. She looks like she is asleep. Is she sleep talking?

“It’s getting cramped in here,” Azalea yawns, leaning over to rest her head on my shoulder.

“You’re tired for it not even being 3pm,” I point out, looking at her. “Are you sleeping okay?”

She shakes her head, then nods. “I am, just not a lot. I’ve been up late trying to write new songs.”

“How’s it going?”