Rule #1: dare me

Rule number 1 in dating, don't say yes to dating him just because he's hot, rich, and sometimes treats you well. 

Rule number 2, Don't be poor.

Rule number 3, Don't let mediocre-looking men hold you back from finding your true dreams. 

"EVELYN!" I heard his voice scream down the hall as his footsteps followed after me.

Rule number 4, If he doesn't take you breaking up with him lightly, run. Run as fast as you can, even if you are pregnant and barefoot—not the pregnant part, just the barefoot part.

I had my phone on me and my wallet with 26 dollars in it. I just had to get out of his giant manor, and I will be free.

"Evelyn," he called out, but this time he didn't raise his voice. I could hear him better now; he was gaining on me.

Rule number 5, If he is chasing you down the hallway instead of just letting you leave after you break up, run faster.

I pushed through the front door and ran to the gate.

Rule 6- "That gate isn't open, you know that." I turned around quickly. My shoulders relaxed. It wasn't Marco.

"You have a key, don't you?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Kegan, this is the last favor I will ever ask you. Please let me out and tell him I went another way." That was rich coming from me, someone who didn't pay his paycheck. 

Kegan looked at me and sighed as he opened the door.

"Run," and that I did. 

Rule 6, If he has control issues, run faster, and try not to step on any glass shards as you run down the street barefoot in nothing but your pajamas.

I stopped and slumped down behind a wall. What was my game plan? I don't even know. I can't keep running; I need a place to stay; I need food; I need him-. No, I don't need him.

Maybe I should go back and say it was all a huge misunderstanding. Like he would buy that.

My phone rang.

Big Daddy Marco.

Like hell, I'm answering him; he's going to somehow track me, find me, and lock me in the basement or something weird like that.

The phone went to voicemail as I got up and dialed my mom's number.

Rule 7, If you are going to date someone rich and mean, at least take their money before leaving so you aren't walking barefoot in the middle of town. 

"Hi, momma."

"What do you want?" I could just hear the cigarettes in her voice.

"Funny story-."

"He broke up with you?"

"What? No. Actually, I broke up with him."

"But you are on the street with no money, no shoes, and no phone, right?"

"How would I be calling you if I-."

"Right?!"

"Yes."

"Where are you? Wait, never mind." The line went dead. I looked up, and there my mom's car was, the same one she had had since I was in middle school.

"Get in, before I leave you on the street to starve." some mother, she is right? Yeah, that's just kind of how she is.

She always had a different boyfriend, a different beer in her hand, and a different cigarette in her mouth. She's always been like this, well, since my dad left her.

"You look fat."

"Thank you, Mother; I love you too," I said, putting my head on the window. I hadn't been home in a while; this would be my first time home since I moved out.

We pulled into the driveway, and there was a car I didn't recognize. I sighed and got out of the car.

My mom locked the car, and as we walked towards the front door, she opened it. 

"You stopped smoking?"

"Yeah, he told me not to. He said it made me look ugly."

"It does!" a voice yelled back at my mom. 

My mom is young; my dad was 19 and she was 18 when they had me. And I'm 25 now, so that's like 45 years old. Exactly not old.

"Evelyn, my girl," the man said, and he hugged me.

I'm sorry, who is this? I didn't see his face before he hugged me.

"Hug your dad back," my mom said, and I looked up.

"Dad?!" I hugged him like I was a little kid again.

"Is someone going to die? Why are you guys in the same house? Did you guys know I was going to break up with Marco?" I asked, and my mom looked at me, annoyed.

"We've been married again for 5 years? Since you left," my mom said with a shrug. I'm sorry, what? Since when are my parents back together? And happy for that matter, like what is even happening today. 

"We got a divorce when you were 3, I think? I was 21, and your dad was 22. He didn't want to take care of you or some bull. So we had 75/25 custody, and then you moved out. I was lonely, I guess, and I called him-."

"I do not need details of you and Dad hooking up; please spare me. Thank you," I said, and my dad laughed, and he kissed the side of my mom's face. 

"This is so weird," I said, watching the two of them.

I looked between mom and dad, mom, dad, mom, dad.

"What? Did you never kiss Macro?" my dad asked.

"I did, but imagine your parents, who got divorced when you were 3, getting back together and re-married and they have been for 5 years AND DIDN'T EVEN TELL ME OR INVITE ME TO WEDDING and now they are all kissy and lovey. You don't think that's weird?" I asked, and my dad shrugged.

He kissed my mom again.

"You know what? Good for you guys. You are an upgrade from her other boyfriends," I said.

"I know, the original is always the best."

"Sure," I said. 

I walked down the hallway, and my bedroom was still the same as when I left it. All the posters, the sheets, the toys—everything was still there. I smiled.

"We were going to move you out to the garage and make it into a nursery," my dad said, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I slammed my door and sat down on my bed.

I pulled out my phone.

106 missed calls from Big Daddy Marco

What in the world? I looked down at my phone. I didn't even know you could call someone that much, let alone so often.

I clicked on the 289 text from him.

Big Daddy Macro: Evelyn

Evelyn, come back

Baby, come back

You cant run

Not far, at least

I see you, Evelyn

Keep running 

You are always going to come back to me

Evelyn

Evelyn

You'll be back.

And I will be waiting for you

With open arms.

Don't go too far, Evelyn

I love you, baby. This was the final text he sent, and it was 3 minutes ago. I love to see that I am welcomed back at his place. 

I turned off my phone. I didn't want to feed into his problems anymore, so I needed to fight the urge to text him.

Rule 8, Old love can apparently be rekindled, even if it has been forever.

I relaxed again. I took a deep breath and looked around at the place I had called home for so long.

The sun had gone down. I moved my curtain, and I looked out the screen of the window. I was back. Back at the place I ran away from. 

I tend to run from my problems when they get too annoying or too much work for me. My first problem was my mom. She cared more about alcohol and cigarettes than me and her boyfriend at the time—well, all of her boyfriends at the time.

Shawn, Greg, Daniel, Oliver, Tyler—the list really goes on. 

They all did have one thing in common, besides leaving my mom. They all looked like my dad.

They were all tall, all 6'3 to be exact, like my dad. All had curly hair with blond streaks, like my dad; they all had dark brown skin, like my dad; soft brown eyes, like my dad; and they treated her terribly, like my dad. 

I heard a knock on my door. 

"Yeah?"

"You want to come eat with me and your mother?" My dad asked, and he said your mother. It felt like he was another one of my mom's boyfriends.

"Yeah." We both walked towards the kitchen, and I smiled. My mom was cooking again, and she was up.

I hadn't seen her like this in so long; it made me relieved. I always worried about her because she was killing herself with all the stuff she was consuming and drinking.

"Go sit down," my mom said, and she swatted my dad's hand off of the plate.

My dad sat down next to me with a smile.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" He whispered to me as my mom brought the food for all of us. I smiled.

"Yes, she is dad; she is." We were a family again. After so long, this finally felt right. We were together again.

"Damn, do you want another plate? Why are you eating so much?" my dad asked.

"I'm hungry?"

"You used to not eat anything; what happened? It's like you are eating for two or something," my dad said, laughing.

Eating for two?

I dropped the fork onto my plate and looked at the wall behind my mom. It was pale yellow; it was always pale yellow; it had been pale yellow since I could walk and stare at it.

I couldn't be pregnant.

No way.

"Evelyn? Are you okay, honey?" My mom asked, and I looked at her with a concerned look on my face. 

"I don't know, momma; I don't know."

"What's the matter with you? Your eyes have gone all big," my mom said. 

Rule 9, Practice safe sex.

I rubbed my face with my hands, and I sighed.

"Don't tell me you're pregnant," my mom said, and my dad and her both started looking at me, both with wide eyes like I had just given them.

"Momma, I don't know." She quickly stood up, and so did my dad. We followed her to the bathroom in the kitchen.

"Why do you have these?"

"Because I don't take chances, now just pee on it and wait." and she shut the door. I gulped.

I did what my mom asked me to do, and I stood there. I stood there in the small, light blue bathroom only guests would use. It seemed to hug me so close as I stared at the white stick in my shaking hands.

I'm not pregnant; I can't be. Time hung over me as the clock above the toilet started to get louder and louder, like it was haunting me.

The air was thick with anticipation, and it was like it was strangling me, like I couldn't breathe until the result of this test showed up on this stick that I now held so dear.

The seconds ticked in my heart and continued to spit out at me as they slowed. They started to morph with my heartbeat as I started to freak out.

I turned around and looked at myself in the mirror. I could see hope in my eyes; deep down, with all that fear and regret, there was hope, like I wanted to have this baby no matter what or with whom. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

The pregnancy test was now lying on the floor. I bent down and picked it up. My fingers traced the stick.

This could change my life forever. 

I got out of my head, and the bathroom silence and the bright light above seemed to put me in the spotlight. I felt like I was on stage, like I was going to be pregnant and have this baby.

The pregnancy test stayed in my hand as I continued to look at it. I closed my eyes, and I sighed again.

Maybe I wasn't pregnant, and I was just gaining weight, and my parents were exaggerating, and this whole ordeal would all be over soon. 

My phone blurred; the timer was done. I clenched the test in my hand, opened my eyes, and looked down at the test. Time froze right there. I looked slowly down at the stick and then into the small window that held the answer.

It felt. There it was—the simple line that would change my world and life forever. I looked around as the bathroom became the disgusting wall in the kitchen and then my bedroom, and it all spun as I started to cry.

The bathroom, my world, started to blur as my tears started to come down.

I sank onto the edge of the bathtub and swooped up the test in my hands. I was so overwhelmed with all of the emotions I was feeling. I was happy, sad, scared, happy, happy, happy.

I was happy. I am happy. This stupid stick would change my life for the better.

The bathroom became normal again.

"I'll protect you, fetus; don't worry. I'll be the best mom ever, I swear, and your grandma and grandpa will help too. We will make it," I said, crying even more.

I wiped my tears and stood up through the test in the trash can. We would do this together, no matter who or what got in our way.

"What do you mean the pregnancy stick doesn't say that?"

"Why would a pregnancy test tell you the gender? It's a damn line," my mom said as she smacked my dad in the back of the head.

I smiled. We will do this together as a family.