14. Meena
14
Meena
As Asma was bustling around in the kitchen, it occurred to Meena that her sister had only visited her place a few times before. But the way she moved around it with ease made it look like she had always been there. Was this the beauty of siblings? That no matter how much time went past, no matter the beef they had with each other, when things did simmer down, there was an ease that could not be replicated with anyone else? Did that have something to do with childhood trauma bonds?
She was in the midst of these thoughts when her phone buzzed.
‘You sure get a lot of notifications,’ Asma said.
‘Yeah, I need to turn them off,’ Meena said, making a mental note to delete her profile off the dating app. One disastrous date was enough, she decided. ‘I’m turning the phone on to aeroplane mode. This way there will be no more phone calls.’
‘What if the school tries to call you? What if Owen does?’ Asma asked.
‘I doubt it. The only one who will try to call me is Sophie, but I’ve been ignoring her calls.’
Asma didn’t say anything to that, keeping a firm eye on the stove where she was frying some pakoras.
Meena hadn’t fully appreciated how her sister had acquired the desi cooking skills from their mother. She had seen it as another point over which to compete with her. But as she crunched on some of the pakoras Asma had fried and was laying out on a platter, she thought it was good that at least one of them could continue the tradition of their mother’s cooking. What if neither of them could make their mother’s biryanis, or meatball curry, or her special tomato and egg curry? What if these foods which she had grown up with got lost when their mother stopped cooking altogether? The thought made Meena sadder than she wanted to admit.
‘Something happen with Sophie?’ Asma asked a few minutes later.
‘I just can’t deal with her right now,’ Meena said as she munched on another pakora. She knew why Sophie was calling. She wanted to ask about the date and the whole online dating saga. But as Meena had determined, not everything going on in her life had to be Sophie’s business.
‘You’re so lucky to have a close friend,’ Asma said, looking a little wistful as she turned around to drop another batch of freshly fried pakoras onto the platter.
‘Don’t you?’ Meena asked, picking them up straight away, even though they were still hot to touch and slightly burnt her tongue. Asma had sliced whatever vegetables she had found in Meena’s fridge and coated them in the pakora batter before deep-frying. So for the first time they were having broccoli pakoras, along with onion and potato ones.
‘No, not really,’ Asma said. She was focused on frying, so Meena couldn’t read her expression. ‘It’s hard to maintain friendships when you’re climbing the career ladder, not to mention parenting two kids and your husband also happens to be a heart surgeon.’
Part of Meena still wanted to say that maybe taking every opportunity to point out what Osman did for a living could rub people the wrong way and maybe that was why she didn’t have close friends. But she didn’t.
Instead she said, ‘Aside from Sophie, I’m not close to that many people either.’
‘Yeah right. You’ve always been popular, Meena. Even when we were at school. You were the one going out to all the parties while I was stuck at home. I wasn’t studying all that time, you know. I was just pretending so it wasn’t apparent to everyone what a loser I was.’
Hearing Asma call herself a loser shocked Meena. Never had her sister made out that she was anything less than perfect.
‘You’re the opposite of a loser,’ Meena said but she wasn’t sure if Asma heard her over the sizzling of the pakoras.
‘Anyway, I wish I’d held on to some of the friends I’d made. Though if I think about it, when would I even find the time to hang out with them? There just aren’t enough hours in the day.’
‘Don’t you think it’s weird that we are constantly surrounded by people but so many of us feel so lonely?’ Meena mused out loud. ‘It’s something I’ve found hard to shake off my whole life, even though, as you said, it may have looked like I was popular at school. I always felt like there was no one on my side.’
Asma turned around, having placed the last batch of pakoras onto the platter. She took a seat on a stool across from Meena.
‘I was always on your side,’ Asma said.
‘It didn’t look like it! You’re always biting my head off!’
‘Because you’re doing the same to me!’ Asma shook her head. ‘God, I can’t believe how we sound half the time! Our kids are more mature than we are.’
‘Definitely. But maybe I’m doing it now cos in many ways I felt my childhood ended when I was five years old. Is that awful to say?’
‘Meena! I didn’t know you felt that way.’ Asma reached over and grabbed her sister’s hand.
‘But it did. You guys left me behind and suddenly I had to grow up. Is it that bad that I act like a brat when I’m around you? I’m just making up for lost time!’ Meena tried to keep her tone light but emotion was once again scratching at the back of her throat. She tried to swallow it by taking a bite from a pakora. It was the most she had ever said about that point in her life where everything she had known was taken away from her in an instant. Asma stared at her intently, but Meena couldn’t meet her eyes.
‘I don’t think Mum and Dad know how badly this has affected you. I want to say I wish you had told us, but maybe we should have tried harder to work out the implications it had for you. You’ve held on to that feeling of abandonment all this time when, honestly, I thought it didn’t affect you like it clearly has.’
They were both silent for a moment.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ Meena said, her eyes focused on the pakoras. ‘But why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?’
It was the question that had been burning away in her chest since Asma had arrived. Even her coming over was a journey in itself – Asma had decided not to go into work and was getting one of the school mums to pick up the kids after school.
‘Isn’t it sad our relationship is so bad that when I do something nice you view it with suspicion?’ Asma looked deflated.
‘It’s probably not a good sign, yeah.’
‘I saw the way things were with you and Owen at dinner. He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. And, I guess I felt guilty,’ Asma said, letting out a long breath as she did. ‘That I failed as a big sister. I should’ve been there for you more.’
Meena didn’t know what to say. She swallowed hard, trying again to push down the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. They sat in silence for a moment before Meena got up and poured herself a big glass of water. She drank it slowly, taking deep breaths as she did.
‘I appreciate having you here and checking in on me,’ she finally said, her voice coming out even and calm. ‘As for Owen ... I don’t know ...’
‘Do you think the reason you tried so hard with him in the first place is because of what happened when you were five? You’re with him because you don’t want to be abandoned again?’ Asma asked.
‘Fuck ...’ Meena said. And then after a moment, ‘Childhood trauma, am I right?’ She wanted to lighten the situation as usual, but Asma didn’t take the bait.
‘I’m so sorry, Meena,’ she said.
‘You don’t need to be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. And yeah, maybe it was the case initially and that’s why I worked so hard to stay in a relationship with him. But now ... I’m not sure I want to go through a divorce, because of what that would mean for Sasha. I feel if Owen wanted to, and he probably would, he would move back to the UK. What would that mean for Sasha? Would she have to spend half the year living over there? Or would she just see him over the holidays?’
‘You’re jumping the gun. Maybe he won’t want to move.’
‘Yes, but before I take any action I want to work out what that could mean for the future. I can’t imagine a day where I don’t see Sasha. She’s basically what’s keeping me afloat.’
‘That’s a lot of pressure on a little girl.’
‘No, I hope not!’ Meena said. ‘I mean, I hope she doesn’t see it that way. But that’s how I feel. She might see me as a cringe mum, and that’s okay, but to me she is the world.’
It felt good letting it all out.
‘So ...’ Asma started.
‘So, it means that I’m stuck. There are no easy answers so the best thing to do is to just keep going. And when you look at it from the outside, it’s not that bad, right? If I ignore the fact that he and I basically have no real relationship, then it’s okay. Ultimately isn’t that what all marriages end up being anyway? Just two people existing side by side, waiting for death?’
Asma let out a laugh and Meena couldn’t help but laugh too. They both needed it to diffuse the tension.
‘Well, when you put it that way! No wonder young people don’t want to get married anymore!’
‘It was never that important to me,’ Meena said. Though when she thought about it, that was a lie. It had been important. Marriage had been part of the fantasy she had created for herself. She would marry a man who was devoted to her, with whom she had the best sex of her life, they would build a wonderful life together in London. They would be a jet-setting couple with cool famous friends whose names they would throw into casual conversation, ignoring the wide-eyed glances from the people they were talking to. They would winter in Chamonix and summer in Barbados, but only because their friends had a house there. They would find jobs that would fit their lifestyles and on occasion they would visit Australia and look down on it as a throwback country from another era, happy to come to visit family and friends but relieved to get away as fast as they could. And they would have not just one child but two, maybe three. Perhaps they’d have four, with a set of twins in there. She’d always wanted a big family. A brood of children with red cheeks and soft brown hair, whose warm bodies she would scoop into a hug because they always wanted to be held by her and whose love for her was infinite like stars spiralling into an endless universe.
‘I always knew I wanted to get married,’ Asma was saying. ‘I think it was cos of all those nineties romcoms. They made me believe in love ever after.’
‘Well lucky, then, you found it.’
‘Lucky, definitely. But it doesn’t mean it’s not hard work. I don’t think anyone’s marriage is easy.’
‘You mean to tell me you and Osman fight?’
‘Of course we fight!’ Asma said, throwing her a look. ‘We’re not perfect by any means.’
‘Well, let me tell you, you certainly make everything look perfect. Your husband, your job, your kids, everything. And I’ll admit, it made me jealous. Like, a lot. I constantly felt I had to live up to the high standards you set. And there was no way I was ever going to meet them.’
Asma’s face softened. ‘I wish we’d always been so honest with each other. It would’ve saved a lot of heartache.’
‘I didn’t think you even cared about me that much to worry about what I thought.’
‘You’re my sister! How could I not care about you?’
Asma got off her stool and came over to Meena before wrapping her in a hug. At first Meena resisted it, but then she gave in, letting herself be warmed by her sister’s embrace. It felt good, and for the first time in a long time she felt a little of the iciness inside of her melt.
That night when Owen got home, he couldn’t hide the look of surprise at seeing his sister-in-law greet him as he walked through the door. After they exchanged hugs, Owen commented on the amazing smell coming from the kitchen.
‘I knew it couldn’t have been Meena cooking,’ he said, and smiled at Asma. She frowned at him.
Meena and Sasha were playing a game of cards in the living room while a playlist of nineties pop songs blared from the speaker.
‘Your turn, Asma Aunty!’ Sasha shouted.
‘What, no hello for your dad?’ Owen asked, walking into the living room with Asma.
‘Hi, Dad,’ Sasha said with a drawl that only a tweenager could get away with.
Owen went over and gave her a kiss on the head as she scrunched her nose. ‘I’ll be giving you hugs and kisses no matter how old you get, remember that!’
Meena noticed Owen was in a happy mood and allowed herself to relax.
‘Hello,’ Owen said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.
Was this all a performance for Asma’s sake? she wondered. Usually when he got home they barely grunted at each other.
‘Good day at work?’ Meena asked.
Asma was playing her turn in the card game, but Meena could tell she was very much listening in on the interaction.
‘Just a normal day.’ Owen shrugged. He slumped on the couch. ‘What’s the game?’ he asked.
‘Gin rummy,’ Sasha said. ‘Asma Aunty said she and Mum played it as kids.’
‘You guys played together? I thought all you did was fight,’ Owen said.
‘You and Mum used to fight?’ Sasha asked Asma.
‘They still do!’ Owen said, letting out a short laugh. ‘This is why you’re lucky you don’t have siblings. You don’t have to fight with anyone.’
Sasha turned back to her cards.
‘We didn’t always fight. And anyway, that’s what siblings do. They fight and then they make up,’ Meena said.
‘Well, I wouldn’t know,’ Sasha said quietly.
Meena knew this was a sore point for Sasha. From the time she could write her own letters to Santa the number one wish on her list was a sister. And number two was a brother. If Santa didn’t have any girls left, she would make do with a brother, she wrote. But every year the wish didn’t come true and she tried not to show her disappointment. Now she never made mention of siblings, though she would hint at it by talking about the relationships some of her friends had with their siblings. Meena would try to make her feel better by saying how being an only child meant Sasha got all her parents’ attention, plus she got to form a very close bond with both her mother and father. Most kids didn’t have that. Sasha would shrug in return.
‘You know you have two cousins,’ Asma said, turning to Sasha. ‘And they would love to spend more time with you.’
‘That would be nice,’ Sasha said.
They ate proper desi food for dinner. Daal and chawal, homemade kebabs and a spinach side dish Asma whipped up using the frozen bag of spinach she found deep inside the freezer.
Meena, Owen and Sasha smashed through two servings of everything.
‘It’s probably a good thing Meena doesn’t cook this well, otherwise I’d be at least ten kilos heavier,’ Owen said, as he grabbed the last kebab off the plate at the centre of the table.
Meena ignored his comment and Sasha hung her head low. ‘Can I go to my room now?’ she asked.
‘Sure, honey,’ Meena said.
As soon as Sasha had gone Asma turned to Owen.
‘You don’t always have to be a jerk to your wife,’ she said.
‘What? I’m just joking around. Having a laugh. You know that, right?’ he said.
‘You shouldn’t be asking me, you should be asking Meena,’ Asma said.
‘Well, she should know by now. I don’t mean anything by it.’
‘Words have an impact. You are constantly undermining her and Sasha is being affected too, or haven’t you noticed? Every time you badmouth Meena your daughter slinks further into herself.’ Asma’s cheeks were red and her eyebrows arched. Meena had only seen her talk like this to her. Owen turned to Meena.
‘Was this something you had planned? Distract me with a good meal and then get her to attack me?’
‘This has nothing to do with Meena and there was no planning involved. I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. If your wife won’t say anything, then I will. You need to do better as a husband.’
‘Is that what you think?’ Owen asked Meena. She looked back at him incredulously.
‘I thought that was obvious!’ The words flew out.
‘Well, why didn’t you say anything?’
‘Are you serious? I’m constantly trying and all you do in return is ignore me, or worse, act like you hate the sight of me.’
‘I don’t hate you.’
‘You sure act like you do.’
‘When?’
‘Like all the time. You’re always putting me down. And then the other night, when we had sex—’
‘I thought you liked it from behind—’
‘Okay, okay, I don’t need to hear anymore,’ Asma said, getting up. ‘You both clearly need to have a proper chat with each other. Or better yet, get a counsellor. It looks like you could do with some professional help.’
She grabbed her bag and headed towards the door before she stopped.
‘Do you think Sasha would like to come over to mine to spend the night? We’re heading into the weekend after all ... I don’t think she’s ever had a sleepover with her cousins.’
Sasha’s face lit up when they asked her. She grabbed some pyjamas and her toothbrush, giving Meena and Owen a quick kiss as she rushed out the door.
‘Take this time to talk it out,’ Asma whispered to Meena as they hugged goodbye.
After the two had left, Meena stood by the door for a moment. Owen had moved to the living room. Before long she heard the TV blaring.
She took a deep breath and went into the room.
‘Please turn it off,’ she said politely, not reaching for the remote herself, remembering what had happened the other night.
Owen turned to look at her. Something about her expression made him furrow his brows and without a word he pointed the remote at the TV and did as she asked.
She came and sat across from him on the sofa, smoothing her trousers over her knees as she did, before folding her arms. It was an oddly formal gesture for her and she wondered briefly if it meant something. Was it a beginning or an ending?
Owen rubbed his forehead, then let his arms drop by his side. His eyes showed a deep exhaustion.
‘Do you still love me?’ It was a simple enough question, but her voice shook as she asked it.
‘Does it matter?’ he said in return. ‘We’re stuck, right? The two of us. This is it.’
‘You make it sound like death.’
‘Maybe it is a little,’ he said, letting out a snort.
‘If that’s how you feel, why the hell are we doing this to ourselves? We’re miserable.’
‘I thought we’d both accepted that this is how it is. If it wasn’t for Sasha then we wouldn’t be here, right?’
‘But ...’ She found herself lost for words.
‘Not that I’m saying having Sasha wasn’t the best thing to have happened. She ... I don’t know. She makes the world a better place for me.’ Owen was thinking out loud.
Inside of her, Meena found something unravelling. She had wound herself up into so many knots she had forgotten how it all started. How the two of them began. And it was her. It was all because of her.
‘Did you ever have a special savings account?’ she asked.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Years ago, you mentioned a special savings account. You said you put money in it for the house we were going to buy ... When we left London I asked you about it and you said you’d used the money for our move.’
‘Why are you bringing this up?’
‘Was there ever a special savings account? Yes or no?’
‘Well – I—’ He started to speak. ‘I did start one, but I guess I forgot to keep adding money to it.’
‘You lied to me?’
‘It wasn’t a lie. There was a savings account, just not that much savings in it. Does it even matter now?’
There was a heaviness in her chest and she didn’t know how to shift it. The muscles in her heart clenched around the weight, squeezing hard, suffocating her from the inside. She thought of the young woman she had been, of how for so long she didn’t believe she was worthy of anyone’s love. And when she found a man who saw something in her, she held onto him and didn’t let go, even when he’d wanted to. But surely she was worthy of better.
‘We should see a counsellor. Everyone says we should.’
‘Everyone? Who’ve you been telling about us?’
‘No one, they can see.’
‘Who? Asma? Sophie?’
‘It’s been obvious to anyone who sees the two of us together how you treat me.’
‘How I treat you? You’re having a laugh. I was the one who got trapped.’
‘Trapped? I told you years ago, I forgot about being off the pill! I never intended to force you into a marriage.’
‘Well, it felt forced to me!’
Meena couldn’t believe he still thought that, after all these years. ‘Fuck you.’
‘Worst of all, you lied to yourself about us. About who we were. I don’t know who you imagined I was, but that picture in your head of me, that’s not who I am. I hated those parties. I hated the elite arseholes you always looked up to. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than hanging around with the snooty Notting Hill set you wanted to be part of. And I fucking hate sandalwood and you burn the stuff all the fucking time!’
‘It’s to reduce anxiety,’ she said, oddly calm.
She closed her eyes for a moment. She’d spent fifteen years of her life with this man. That was a long time by any measure. She had set a lot of his words aside and tried to forget them, losing them in a swirl of memories.
‘I’m not sure I love you anymore,’ she said. Saying the words out loud felt like she was unloading a massive burden she had been lugging around for years. ‘I don’t know why I asked if you loved me when the answer wasn’t important. I should’ve been asking myself, do I love you? And I don’t think I do.’ A sigh escaped her lips.
Owen didn’t react to her statement. His blank expression told her all she needed to know.
Perhaps the more pertinent question would have been, did he ever love her? Had there ever been love between the two of them? Or had it just been lust and a silly desire for a fantasy life that was never going to come true?
She had hung on to a relationship that shouldn’t have gone on for as long as it did. And for what? Because she was scared of being abandoned again? Because the sex was good? Because she was embarrassed of admitting another failure? The thought of the last time they had sex came back to her and she flinched.
Owen covered his face with his hands, then let them drop.
‘I keep thinking, where the hell did ten years go? It was ten years ago ... I was so determined I was going to break up with you, even though I knew it was Valentine’s Day and it would make me out to be the biggest arsehole, but I had to get out of our relationship. As always, though, you had a way of convincing me.’ Owen stared at the ceiling as he spoke. ‘But I don’t regret it, Meena. If I really wanted to leave, I would have.’
‘Will you try and take Sasha from me?’
He turned his eyes towards her. ‘What?’
‘Will you fight me for custody?’
Owen was silent, his face suddenly turning pale. ‘Well, I, uh, I’d never thought of that ... Is that what you’re worried about?’
‘Yes! She’s my everything and I want to see her every single day. What would happen if you decided to move to the UK?’
Owen closed his eyes, his hands reaching for his face again. ‘I, uh, this is all a lot. I don’t know what to say, Meena.’
‘Say you won’t take her from me and move to the other side of the world.’
Owen let out a deep breath. He was silent for a moment.
‘I won’t take her from you,’ he finally said.
Meena got up and walked to the kitchen. Her head was spinning. She was relieved but couldn’t deny the tension thrumming through her body. She stood in the middle of the space and looked around. There was a void that needed feeding, but she wasn’t sure what would satiate it. And then it occurred to her. In a bottom cupboard they had been storing a bottle of wine for years; a very expensive bottle, gifted to Owen by his company for winning an award as the best salesperson in the Asia-Pacific region. When they looked it up they found that it cost over a thousand dollars, so they saved opening it for an important occasion. They hadn’t found one yet. They’d even joked that perhaps if they stored it properly they could keep it as an investment, maybe pass it on to Sasha on her wedding day.
Meena pulled out two wine glasses from the cabinet and took them along with the bottle to Owen. He smiled as soon as he saw it.
They poured the wine into the glasses and let it sit there for a moment before swirling the liquid around. Owen even brought the glass to his nose and sniffed, inhaling the scent before shrugging as if to say, Guessing this is good?
She drank the first glass in three sips, not even bothering to properly taste it. She would appreciate it on the second glass, she thought.
Three glasses in, he asked her. ‘What do you want to do?’
She stretched out her legs and pointed her toes before flexing them. Owen’s question hung in the air. She wasn’t sure if he even expected an answer. Or maybe he wasn’t asking her, but himself.
Then she remembered a single moment, almost ten years ago. It reminded her of a feeling she held on to for far too brief a moment.
‘Do you remember the day we had her?’ she asked. Owen let his head fall back, resting it against the back of the couch. She could tell in his mind he was already there.
It had been a typically drizzly and cold November. Meena was thirty-eight weeks pregnant and finding it hard to climb the creaky stairs up and down her small flat. Outside she would take careful steps in case she fell on the slippery footpaths.
She had taken to walking aimlessly around her neighbourhood after she had quit her job. The rage that still burnt inside her from the comments about her pregnancy and how it had turned some of the knobhead bankers off was still fresh in her mind. How dare they? she kept saying not only to anyone who would listen, but to herself. How dare they when she had been the one who had brought in all the new clients? When she could have, and really should have, started her own agency before it got to this point. And she would have made sure to take all her best clients with her. They didn’t explicitly say her pregnancy was the problem, because they knew she would sue their arses, but the implication was there. However, whenever she brought it up with Owen, and she brought it up multiple times a day, he said perhaps she had read too much into what they were saying. All they had asked was for her to slow down, that perhaps so late in her pregnancy she shouldn’t be going to late-night burlesque shows. ‘Who are they to tell me what to do?’ she’d asked. And he shrugged because he knew there was no right answer to her question.
She took slow, measured steps till she was out of breath, then stopped at the bus stop where a kind-faced older woman enquired about how many weeks she was before asking Meena to unbutton her coat so she could see her belly. At that point, after having gone through almost nine months of various colleagues, neighbours, friends and random strangers commenting on her burgeoning belly, Meena had become desensitised to them.
‘It’s a girl, I know it,’ the woman said.
Meena had heard that before as well. Though whenever she had FaceTimed her mother she had thought the shape of her bump made it look more like she was carrying a boy.
‘Either way, we’re happy,’ Meena would say to whoever commented on the baby’s possible gender. She and Owen had made the decision to not find out. They’d already had the surprise of the pregnancy. Why not have the surprise of the gender too?
On the walk back home, Meena felt a twinge. She ignored it at first but after a few more steps it happened again. This time it made her heart race. Was this it? Was it really happening?
Her pace increased and she took determined steps towards her apartment. A few minutes away from her building, she felt a pain so sharp inside her stomach it made her stop and wince. What the fuck? she thought. And then, I’m not ready. I’m not ready at all.
Heart racing full pelt, she climbed the steps to her flat, her legs shaking more from the nerves than any pain. By the time she opened her front door she was drenched in sweat. She threw off all her clothes right by the front door, till she was fully naked. She had the sudden urge to have a bath and she wasn’t going to deny it. As she ran the bathwater a powerful surge of pain gripped her belly. Shit , she thought. She looked at the time. It was still only midday. Owen wouldn’t even be having lunch yet. Would it be too premature to call him?
She filled the bath almost to the top and got in. The warm water had an immediate relaxing effect. She sank into it and closed her eyes. There were no more surges of pain. She felt her heartbeat ease. She was so relaxed she might even have dozed a little. So silly , she thought, as she got out of the bath. It was just one of those Braxton-Hicks contractions the midwives had warned her about. Nothing to get in a panic about. But as she was drying herself the pain came back, so sharp it made her buckle. This time she couldn’t deny it. With shaking hands she picked up the phone and called Owen.
Twenty minutes later he was in their apartment. She had never seen him make such quick time from the office to home.
‘I basically screamed at the Uber driver till he had no option but to drive ten miles over the speed limit,’ he explained as he grabbed the maternity bag she had packed a couple of weeks earlier and helped her down the stairs. ‘Don’t worry, I gave him five stars, and a tip.’
‘I’ve just realised these stairs will be a nightmare with a pram,’ Meena muttered as she walked down them. She was looking at the whole world with fresh eyes. Even her flat, she noticed, was filled with areas that could land a baby into some serious trouble. How would a young helpless child survive the deathtrap they called a home?
‘We’re not ready!’ she declared, as Owen held open the passenger door of the car for her.
He didn’t respond, watching as she was safely inside before closing the door behind her.
They needn’t have hurried. A few hours later they were back at their apartment building and climbing up the rickety stairs.
At the hospital her contractions had slowed down to an occasional appearance. After monitoring her, the midwives had told her to go back home. She was embarrassed. She didn’t want to be one of those overcautious women the midwives probably rolled their eyes over and laughed about behind their backs. But the midwives seemed very understanding and encouraging. All signs point to the fact that the baby will be here soon, one of them said.
Back at home she went straight to bed while Owen made her a cup of tea. As she lay on her side she watched him puttering about in the kitchen. It made her smile. He had been the best version of himself lately. After the earlier shock of the pregnancy, he had settled into the role of father-to-be and it suited him immensely.
‘I brought you some biccies just in case,’ he said, as he set down a mug of hot tea and a saucer with a few biscuits arranged in a semicircle. She liked that he had gone to the effort of presenting the biscuits in that way.
She leant on her elbows to help herself sit up and he rushed to her side to assist her. His recent attentiveness made a feeling like warm honey dribble into her stomach.
‘You love me,’ she said.
He scrunched his eyebrows briefly before saying, ‘Of course.’
‘Me,’ she said.
‘You,’ he said.
You see , she wanted to tell him, I have never been special to anyone. I have never stood out. Not even to my parents. But you saw me and noticed something in me and that’s why the universe is conspiring to ensure we stay together. We have to stay together. Because if it wasn’t for you, who would see me? Who would want me? If not for you, Owen, then maybe the world would realise that I am unlovable. Have always been so.
She took a big gulp of scalding tea to stop her thoughts. For a brief moment, they had been on the verge of breaking up. If she hadn’t missed her period, if the test hadn’t been positive, if the whole world hadn’t spun around in that moment when she realised a life was growing inside her and that life was both hers and Owen’s, then they wouldn’t be having this one, with him sitting at the end of the sofa bed massaging her feet. And when he looked up at her and they locked eyes she had a feeling of such contentment it confirmed every instinct she’d had to keep them together. This was why. It had been hard, but they got there.
‘So you wanna ...’ she started, giving him a look he understood well.
‘Are you kidding?’
‘It can help move the labour along.’
‘Only you would suggest such a thing.’
‘No, it’s true! I read it in the baby book.’
She didn’t need to ask him twice. He was already crawling up the bed, pulling down her pants as he made his way towards her face, on which he laid a kiss that was both gentle and assertive.
One thing she could say about being pregnant was that it didn’t slow down their sex life, it seemed to invigorate it. Once the morning sickness had subsided after the first trimester she and Owen couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
‘Maybe it’s the hormones,’ he suggested once, when she jumped him as soon as he walked through the door.
‘Or maybe we know after the baby comes it won’t be like this,’ she said.
Regardless, they both acted like prisoners on day release around each other. As her belly grew bigger they experimented with different positions; some, to her delight, hit her G spot in exactly the right way.
This time they moved slowly around each other. It wasn’t easy to navigate a belly the size of a watermelon while also trying to get into a position that would allow them to get intimate with one another. But they managed, as they always seemed to do. After he kissed her he pulled off her top and kissed her breasts, taking his time licking and rubbing her nipples.
‘I read the baby books too,’ he said, and she remembered something about how nipple manipulation released oxytocin, which played a role in inducing labour.
Before long she was turning her back to him and he was getting into position behind her. As he entered her she closed her eyes and floated into the feeling of delirium he caused when he was inside of her. The last thing she thought was, After this time we will be parents .
Later that evening, her contractions came back, continuous and hard. When they were eight minutes apart, they hurried to the hospital, arriving just in time. When the midwife checked her she was already nine centimetres dilated. ‘Too late for an epidural,’ she was told, which produced a loud and hollow scream from her mouth the next time she had a contraction.
When it came time to push she turned to Owen, and said what perhaps many women before her had said in the throes of extreme pain: ‘I can’t do this.’
He gripped her hand tight and said, ‘You can.’
There was no getting around the fact she was having a baby and would have to do it. But his belief in her calmed her. Even though when it came time to bringing Sasha out into the world the pain was so unbelievable it shook her entire being, she knew there was light at the end of the tunnel. As she bore down and pushed, releasing a scream that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside the core of her, Meena knew that she, her baby and the man beside her, they were all going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.
The next morning, with her baby happily suckling at her breast, Owen went out in search of good coffee and pastries that would take away the taste of hospital food. He kissed Sasha’s forehead, then Meena’s, and promised he wouldn’t be too long.
The nurse came in and smiled at the three of them, watching Owen as he left the room.
‘You’re all good?’ the nurse asked, while taking Meena’s blood pressure.
‘Better than good,’ Meena said.
‘Well, that’s nice to hear. Unusual, but nice,’ the nurse said. ‘Baby feeding well?’
‘Like a champ,’ Meena said, looking down at Sasha and letting her index finger stroke the side of her baby’s face.
‘Well, looks like you’re all sorted, then. If you’re happy, we could probably discharge you today.’
Meena felt her heart skip a beat. This was the beginning of the next phase of their lives and she couldn’t wait for it to start. This was all she had ever wanted.
‘I’m happy,’ she said.
‘So,’ Owen was asking her again. The expensive bottle of wine was sitting empty between them. ‘What do you want to do?’
The air seemed fresh, as if someone had sucked out all the dirt and dust that had clogged the space of the home they lived in. Meena stretched her arms up towards the ceiling, bringing them back down again and resting them in her lap.
‘I want to be happy again,’ she said.