Chapter Twenty-Five
Henry
On Friday, I’m at home packing, ready to leave for my afternoon flight to Sydney, when my phone rings. My heart lifts as I see Juliette’s name on the screen. I haven’t spoken to her since last Saturday, and although we’ve messaged each other occasionally, it’s been far less frequent than normal. I know things are hard for her at home, so I’ve tried to give her space, but it’s been tough.
I answer the call with a mixture of emotions: pleasure, hope, and a touch of anxiety. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hey, sweetheart.” I put down the shirt I was about to pack and walk out onto the deck. “How are you doing?”
“Okay. Not too bad.”
“I’m glad you rang. I was wondering how you are. I’m guessing you’ve been busy.”
“Yes. Henry, I… I need to talk to you.”
I go still, and my heart seems to shudder to a stop. “Oh?”
She’s silent for a moment. Then she says, “I’m pregnant.”
Slowly, my heart collapses in on itself like a dying star.
I give a short, humorless laugh. “The one thing I can’t do for you. Fuck me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I run a hand through my hair. I’m having trouble breathing. My chest hurts. Ah, jeez, I think I’m having a fucking coronary.
“He… he wants me to move to Australia with him,” she says, her voice husky. “He says he thinks if we have a fresh start, maybe it’ll work out.”
He’s taking her away from me in every way he can.
GG, Cam. Good Game. You won. You motherfucking, cunting, shitting, pissing, fucking arsehole of a bastard.
“I hope you’ll be very happy,” I say.
Then, before I can think better of it, I draw my arm back and throw my phone as hard as I can. It sails away, turning in the air, and I watch it plummet down onto the rocks, where it breaks into a million pieces that scatter into the ocean.
“Fuck it!” I yell so hard it hurts my throat. Ah, bollocks, now I’m going to be hoarse for the conference. And I don’t have a phone.
I sink onto the wooden deck, my back against the window, draw up my knees, and put my head in my hands. Over the last few days, I’ve repeatedly told myself that I haven’t lost her. That it’s not too late. I’ve reassured myself that I was doing the right thing in giving her time and letting her come to the conclusion on her own that we were meant to be together.
I should have gone over to see her and dragged her back here by her fucking hair.
But then what would’ve been the point in doing that? Cam hasn’t forced her to stay with him. Well, maybe there’s an element of that with the pregnancy, but I assume that was accidental. The fact is that Juliette is a grown woman. She had a choice. And she’s chosen him.
Ahhh… that fucking hurts…
I tip my head back on the glass and look up at the gray clouds. I think about my phone and wince. That was childish. What must she be thinking? I should have finished the conversation like a man, congratulated her on being pregnant, told her I understood why it made sense to stay with the father of her baby, and ended with an ‘I’ll always be here for you,’ type of comment. A promise that we can continue to work together and be friends.
But it’s not the truth, is it? She’s going to be leaving the company, well, leaving the country. The only time I’ll get to see her will be if she comes back to visit her family, or if I go to Sydney and ask if she wants to meet up. And what would be the point of that? Would I really want to see her with her new baby, happy in the glow of motherhood, in her new life?
And realistically, we can’t stay in contact. In the past I’d told myself we were just friends, but it’s always been a lie. Shaz didn’t know that Juliette and I messaged each other every day, and I’m betting Cam didn’t either. We’ve had a six-year affair, and it wasn’t fair on either of our partners. And it wasn’t fair on ourselves. If she’s going to be truly happy, we need to make the break.
Hey, if I want to be happy, we need to make the break.
For the first time, I think about a future without her. For two years, and maybe more, I’ve dreamed about ending up with her. But it’s not going to happen. She’s never going to be mine. It’s time I put her behind me. I need to start dating again. Meeting other women. There’s somebody else out there for me. Someone I can love, and who’ll understand me. Who’ll make me glow inside the way she does.
But I don’t want anyone else. I want her.
I’m furious. And so fucking upset I want to either bawl my eyes out or hit something really, really hard, multiple times. Or someone. Preferably whose name starts with a C.
The last thing I want to do is go to the conference. But I can’t get out of it now. I check my watch—I can’t look at my phone because I threw it in the ocean—and see that I have thirty minutes before I have to leave the house.
I need to finish packing. And I have to go buy myself a new phone and SIM card.
But instead I continue to sit there and watch the seagulls, fighting back tears, wondering if my heart will ever feel whole again.
*
When my Uber pulls up at the airport, Tyson is sitting on one of the outside seats, looking at his phone. He stands as I get out and retrieve my case and flight bag, and I walk over to him.
“You’re late,” he says. “We need to check in. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make it.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ve texted you, like, eight times asking where you are.”
As we head into the airport, I say, “My phone’s not working. I need to get myself a new one.”
“Not working how? Run out of charge?”
“Don’t want to talk about it.”
He glances at me, then just says, “Okay.”
We check in, put our cases on the conveyor belt, then shoulder our flight bags. Now we have a three-hour wait.
We head toward the flight lounges, find a phone shop, and I purchase a new iPhone and a SIM card. I transfer over my old number and turn the phone on, and I wait for it to sort itself out. We’re flying Emirates First Class, so we head toward Manaia Lounge, where there are leather armchairs, a bar, and places to eat.
It’s late for lunch but neither of us has eaten much today, so we order a steak sandwich and fries each and treat ourselves to a beer, then take a seat opposite each other at one of the tables.
I study the new phone. I have a heap of texts, and I scan them quickly. Nothing from Juliette. Am I surprised? Did I really think she’d message me back after I hung up on her? Even so, my spirits sink. I’m such a fucking idiot.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Tyson says, and I realize that I said the words out loud. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks.
“No.”
He leans back in his chair and has a swig of his beer. “You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”
I look up at him. In general, guys don’t talk to one another about relationship issues, but Tyson is different. What he went through with his accident has made him look at life differently, and he’s much more open than the rest of us. When he was first confined to a wheelchair, I went around to his place with Alex, James, and Damon. After a few whiskies, he admitted that although Gaby was determined to stay with him, he was worried he’d never be able to function in a normal way sexually again. It was a very frank discussion, and it was a major reason for the creation of Kia Kaha. We all understood that being able to have sex was as important to him as being able to walk, and it led to us all knowing more about sexual function.
As a result, he’s more likely to want to talk about personal issues, and so the fact that he’s asking me now isn’t really surprising.
Still, I’m not interested in analyzing what’s gone wrong, and so I say, “I’m sure.”
He gives me a frank look. “Dude, I’m not going to spend the weekend with you when you’ve got a face like thunder. Spit it out. I’m guessing it’s something to do with Juliette?”
I glower.
“What’s happened?” he asks.
I give a long, heartfelt sigh. “It’s a long story.”
“Bro, we’ve got three hours.”
So I start talking. And to my surprise, when I start, I find I can’t stop.
I tell him about what happened on the trivia night, and then about the wedding. He doesn’t look shocked, and so I’m pretty sure he’s already guessed what’s been going on.
But when I tell him about the events of the past two weeks, about Cam’s brother and mother, and the stress that Juliette has been under, he frowns. And then when I finally explain about the phone call this morning, he tips his head back and gives a long, heartfelt sigh.
“Shit,” he says.
“Yeah. And Cam told her they should stay together for the baby, and he wants to move to Australia. So that’s that.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said, ‘I hope you’ll be very happy,’ and I threw my phone into the ocean.” I roll my eyes at the look on his face. “Yeah. I know.”
“So you didn’t give her a chance to reply?”
“Uh, no.”
“So you don’t know whether she’s told Cam she wants to stay with him?”
“Well, I assumed she’s going to. She’s had weeks to leave, and she chose not to. I can’t imagine she will now that she’s pregnant.”
“Hmm.”
I massage the bridge of my nose. “I just wish I’d finished the conversation better. I know we’re not going to be able to stay in touch when she goes to Oz, but I want her to know that I don’t mean her ill.”
“Why don’t you call her?”
I study the new phone. “I don’t think she’ll want to talk to me.”
“I’m sure she’s feeling lonely and heartsick right now. You should at least apologize and tell her you’re not angry anymore.”
I sigh. “Yeah, all right.” I get up and wander over to the window as I dial her number. My heart begins to race, and my mouth goes dry at the thought of speaking to her.
But it goes straight to voicemail, and my heart sinks.
I’m about to hang up when I turn and see Tyson watching. He’s right. I do need to apologize.
“Hey, it’s me,” I say softly. “I just wanted to talk to you and say I’m sorry for hanging up on you like that. It was childish, and I regret it. Hopefully we can catch up when I get back from Sydney. Take care of yourself. You can always call me if you want to talk. Okay, well, speak to you soon. Bye.” I hang up awkwardly. It wasn’t my best speech, but at least I tried.
I go back to Tyson and sit down. “It went to voicemail, so I left a message.”
“Good, well done.” He picks up his own phone. “Okay, well I’m going to give Gaby a ring before we leave. Don’t eat all my fries if they turn up.”
“Would I do a thing like that?”
He grins and walks off to call his wife.
I’m glad I called Juliette, but I feel uneasy. It’s rare for her not to answer her phone. I hope she’s okay. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. She’s not my responsibility. She’s Cam’s, and I have to get used to that.
I watch Tyson talking to Gaby, feeling more than a little envious as he smiles somewhat bashfully, then laughs at something she’s said.
Our food arrives, and I steal a couple of his fries. Serves him right for being so fucking happy.
*
Juliette
On Saturday morning, I’m sitting in the corner of the coffee shop in The Garden Hotel, sipping a latte, when Gaby walks in. She spots me and comes over, and I stand up to give her a big hug.
When she moves back, she gives me an appraising look, but she just says, “You want anything to eat?”
“No, thanks.”
“Okay. I’ll just get a coffee.” She goes up and places her order, then comes back and sits opposite me. “Thanks for agreeing to see me,” she says.
I study my coffee. She rang me last night and asked to meet up. Initially, I said no, but she told me that Tyson had called her, and he’d been speaking to Henry, and she said, “Girl, I know you’re in trouble. Please, talk to me.”
It wasn’t long after my call to Henry, and I’d been too upset at the time, so I suggested we meet up today. I’d half-dreaded having to see her and go through it all, but now I’m here, I find myself quite relieved to be talking to a friend who has nothing but my best interests at heart.
“I’m sorry to be so cloak and dagger,” I reply.
She looks around. “Why are we meeting here?”
“I’m staying here.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Why?”
“I knew Cam would come around if I went to the apartment, and I don’t want to see him. I need some time alone.”
“Aw,” she says, her forehead creasing. “Sweetie. I know you’re pregnant—Henry told Tyson. Come on, tell me. What’s going on?”
I explain everything. That Henry and I have been seeing each other. About Cam’s brother and mother being unwell. And that Cam wants us to stay together for the baby’s sake, and that he wants to move to Australia.
“There is a university in Melbourne that offers a Masters of Clinical Prosthetics and Orthotics,” I tell her. “He’d rather go to Sydney, but he said he’d compromise and move to Melbourne for me.”
She tips her head to the side. “Do you want to go?”
“The course sounds interesting.”
We study each other for a moment.
“Do you still love him?” she asks.
I bite my lip and look away, out of the window. It’s a blustery summer’s day, and the clouds are scudding across the bright blue sky. It’s just gone ten—Henry and Tyson will be starting their presentation soon. I hope it goes well for them.
I look back at her. “Not in the way I used to.”
“Do you love Henry?”
“Yes,” I say, without hesitation.
“Well, then. You deserve to be happy, sweetie.”
I swallow hard. “But he told me he wouldn’t want to bring up another man’s child.”
He rang me yesterday and left a message. It was wonderful to hear his voice. He apologized for hanging up on me and said he hoped we could catch up when he gets back.
But he didn’t say anything about the baby, or tell me he still wants to be with me. All he said was that he’ll always be there for me, and while that’s sweet, it’s not enough.
She sighs, then leans back as the waitress delivers her coffee. “Thanks.” She adds a sweetener and stirs it. “Tyson didn’t mention that.”
“I doubt Henry told him. I don’t think he’s proud of his opinion. When he was talking about James adopting Leia, he said, ‘He’s a bigger man than I am.’”
“You’ve spoken to him about his infertility?”
“Yes, we talked about IVF. He said he’d do it, but I could tell he was just saying what I wanted to hear. And he definitely didn’t want to use a sperm donor. I think those two years of trying with Shaz killed any desire he had for kids. And I really want children. He was so angry when I told him I was pregnant. Not at me, but at the situation. I think for him, it was all over as soon as I told him. He said, ‘I hope you’ll be very happy,’ and hung up.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I sigh. “Ever since the trivia night I’ve been torn between the two of them, but that choice has gone now. Unless…” I sip my coffee. “I’ve been thinking about terminating the pregnancy.”
She stares at me, and we study each other for a long moment.
“So you can be with Henry?” she asks eventually.
I lean on the table and put my face in my hands. “Don’t say it like that. It sounds so fucking callous. But if it’s the only way I can be with him… Ah jeez…”
“You can’t do it for Henry,” she says. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you do it for that reason, and even if he doesn’t want the baby, it’ll always be between you.”
“I know.” I blink away tears and lower my hands. “You think I should keep it?”
“Ah… Juliette…” She takes my hands in hers. “You shouldn’t ask me.”
“I am asking you, though. I want to know what you think.”
“Well, Tyson and I are trying to have a baby, and we’re not sure if he can have kids yet, so I’m the wrong person to ask. A baby seems like a beautiful gift to me, no matter who the father is. But our situations are very different. I’m married, with a loving husband. And I think it’s a bad idea to stay with Cam for the baby.”
I nod slowly. “I agree. But the only other alternative is to have it on my own, and…” I pause, not sure how to voice my frustration. “I know it sounds pathetic—there are loads of single mums out there who bring up kids on their own without any problems at all. But I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Being pregnant, to start with. I don’t know anything about pregnancy, or childbirth. And of having to bring up the child on my own. I’m terrified.”
“Aw, you’d have me, and Missie, and Aroha, and your mum to help.”
“Yes, that’s true. But…” I swallow hard. “Having Cam’s baby is going to tie me to him, even if we don’t live together. And I keep thinking about how hard it’ll be. He’s not a bad guy, and I’m sure he’ll be a good dad, but he’s such a narcissist. Everything is about him, and I can just foresee so many issues, trying to get him to pull his weight financially and with his time. It’s going to be a constant battle, and I don’t know if I’ve got the strength for it. In many ways, it would be easier to stay together, you know?”
“I can see what you mean.”
“I know that’s wrong though. Of course it is. So the only other option is to have an abortion. And then I feel bad because it’s not the baby’s fault, and I think about you and women like you who struggle to get pregnant, and then I feel terrible.”
“Oh God, don’t think like that.”
“It’s impossible not to.” I press my fingers to my lips, trying not to cry. “It’s such a fucked-up situation. We came so close to making it. Henry wanted me to leave Cam, and I think if I’d done it earlier, and we’d spent some time together, he might have been open to the idea of bringing up the baby as his own. But now he’s actually said he wouldn’t want to bring up another guy’s child. I think I’ve sort of been spoiled for him.”
And then I do cry, silent tears that Gaby tries to mop up with serviettes, and she can’t think of anything to say to comfort me, because what is there to say? I don’t want to be with Cam, and I’m too scared to have the baby on my own, and the only way to be with Henry is to terminate the pregnancy, and Gaby’s right—I can’t do that just to get him, because I’ll never forgive myself. I’m just going around and around the maze, trying to find my way out, and I can’t, because all the exits are blocked.
What the hell am I going to do?