Page 49 of Tears of Gold

E xx

He always knows what to say, the right thing to do. Refolding the paper, I slide it under my pillow. Keeping it somewhere safe where I can find it if I need to. Stretching, I get up from the bed. Walking to the mirror still in yesterday’s black underwear, I stand in front of the ornate frame on the French dresser. I’m still the same. There is no scary bulge stretching my ink. There is no swell or bloom, no little curve to be found. I’m still angles and ink. I turn to the side and press my hand to my tummy, watching my reflection closely.

This can’t be real. It just can’t be.

Heading into the dressing area, I rifle through Eli’s clothes until I find one of his soft t-shirts which I pull over my head followed by a navy hoodie I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen him wear yet.

How can we have a baby together when I haven’t even seen him wear all his clothes? It seems preposterous that it can even happen.

It can. Science doesn’t care about how many jumpers your boyfriend has worn, or how long you’ve been together, or whether you are suitable mother material.

Science is fucked-up.

Back in the bedroom I pick up my phone. It would be nice to have a mother to call in the circumstances, but that’s never been an option for me. In the space where there should be a mother you call when you are worried or scared, there has always just been an empty void. In the place of a mother there is nothing.

In a different life, possibly on a parallel universe, I could maybe ring Eli’s mum. She could make me tea and offer me biscuits as she tucks me into her motherly embrace. Yeah, right.

My screen tells me there’s a message from Eli, so I swipe and unlock it.

Eli Jones: How are you? I’ll be in court by the time you wake up, but know I’m thinking of you. Today my thoughts will be full of you and everything we are, and everything we could be.

I sigh and find my shoulders slumping. I didn’t even know I was holding them high.

Faith Hitchin: Don’t worry about me. Think about Melanie, she’s the one who matters today. We can talk more tonight.

My stomach twists into painful knots which feels like a three-year-old has tried to do shoelaces with it. I don’t know what I want to talk about or what I would even say. What if he hates me because my womb is extra susceptible to his sperm? What if he never wanted to bring a child into the Fairclough nightmare… regardless of what he said last night?

There’s a baby in my tummy, unexpected and unwarranted, and I have no idea what I want to feel or do about it.

On an impulse I ring Abi. There’s going to be screaming, I know it, but I’ve got to talk to someone. Of all the things I’ve faced alone this is the one that’s defeated me.

“This is early for you.” She answers on the second ring, no sign of sleepiness in her tone.

“Sorry it’s early, Abs.” My words choke off.

“Oh, God, what’s happened? Have you two rowed again? I warned him I’d kick him in the balls if he upset you one more time this year.”

“You warned him? How? When?” I can’t help but smile at my best friend's dramatics—there is definitely going to be screaming.

“Never you mind, Missy, I have my ways.”

I snort and settle myself on the bed, tucking my legs up under me. I should be getting ready for class, but five minutes with my best friend will do me a lot of good. I can feel it.

“How’s Adam and the kids?” It’s weird asking about her kids, knowing I have one of my own in my tummy. One of those things that lives and breathes, and cries, and then eventually answers back or laughs, and could giggle with bright eyes.

Oh shit.

“Faith, what’s wrong?”

My tears are silent, but Abi can sense them.

“I have news.”

“Have the police called about Aiden?” Why does everyone always think it’s something to do with that bastard?

“No. Worse. I’m pregnant.”

There’s a long stretch of silence followed by, “Holy shit.”