Remy
REMY
I hear Mum hollering for me from her bedroom. As I climb the stairs, I yell, “We don’t shout when we want something in this household!” They are the same words Mum would say to me when I was a child, but then I stop short when I reach her room.
“Smart-arse.” Mum sits at her vanity table clutching her blush brush. “Help me?”
“Whoa” escapes my lips when she turns away from her mirror to face me. “That is a lot of blush on your cheeks, Mum.”
I sit beside her, remove the brush from her hand, and use a pad to remove some of the rouge before fixing the makeup underneath. “You don’t usually wear makeup,” I note. “You must be nervous.”
“I’m meeting Eric’s parents for the first time.”
“They’re still alive?”
Mum swats at me. “The cheek! He’s only sixty-one.”
“In my defense, your parents aren’t alive and you’re younger than he is; it’s a fair question!” I gesture to her cheeks. “You’ve never cared what people think of you.”
“I don’t care what strangers think of me. This is… this is different.” She breathes deeply and gives me a faltering smile.
I can’t help but ask, “Mum, do you only have a life now because I’m an adult?” I reach for more foundation. “I don’t remember you dating when I was younger.”
She shrugs. “Well, I didn’t want random men traipsing through the house, leaving their energy around for you to absorb.”
I (lovingly) roll my eyes. “Do you ever regret it, though? Because you had me to consider? Do you regret having to wait to enjoy life until… later on?”
“I’ve always enjoyed my life,” Mum says, looking at me with surprise.
“I don’t equate men and nights out to living life to the fullest—I know you certainly don’t, and you get that from me.
Remember when Nova tried to drag you to that house party when you were sixteen, but it was nine PM and you were already in bed with a book and mug of peppermint tea?
When you declined, Nova said something about you wasting your youth and that you’d regret it when you were ‘old, and like, thirty.’” Mum shakes her head with a smile.
“If I recall correctly, it was you who told her that a life well lived is spent doing the things you enjoy.” She taps my nose gently.
“Besides, thanks to your grandparents, I had a reasonable balance of being your mum and being Ada.”
“They’re not the same person?”
“Not always.”
“But having me was a sacrifice, wasn’t it?” I press.
“Of course,” Mum explains patiently, “but it always would have been. You always sacrifice old things for something new. Look at Lin, she sacrificed London, her friends and family for a great career opportunity. That doesn’t mean what she left behind was worth leaving or is gone forever.
New York took and it gave, just like every new chapter in life does.
Now, could you help me with my dress? I can’t decide which one to wear, so if I can make it work, I think I might wear both. ”
Only an hour after I wave Mum off at the door, I’m desperate for the toilet.
I make it in time, but when I pull my trousers down, I stop at the sight of blood decorating my underwear in polka dots.
I slowly lower myself on the toilet, and while I pee, I stare.
I can feel my brain working, but its slowness is in direct contrast to the speed of my pulse.
I know what it’s trying to tell me, but I’d rather not listen.
I finish and turn back to peer inside the toilet bowl, momentarily distracted by the pale orange liquid that swirls as I flush.
Finally, it hits me, and I run for the front door.
Miscarriage. Ectopic pregnancy. Vaginal bleeding. Vaginal infection. Placenta abruption. These are all the words I googled on my way to the GP after texting Simone. Once I explain my symptoms to the nurse at the reception desk, I don’t have to wait long for an examination or for the results.
“You have a UTI.”
Sitting, hunched, in Dr. Odell’s office, watching as she reads from her computer, I can only repeat, “A UTI?”
Dr. Odell nods and it is neither unkind nor comforting.
“They can be quite common during pregnancy and unfortunately come with scary symptoms such as blood in your urine and lower abdominal pain. Thankfully, you’ve nothing to worry about.
You just need a short course of antibiotics and you’ll be fine.
” She nods again. “It’s good you came in, anyway. ”
There’s a knock on the door and Simone enters before being told she can. She’s in jeans, a white top, and open sandals. She must have grabbed whatever shoes were closest because it’s been raining all day.
“Remy, is everything all right?”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “It’s all fine. I just panicked. You didn’t have to come all this way.”
“Are you the partner?” Dr. Odell asks her.
“What? Sure, whatever,” Simone says, flustered. “What happened to her?”
“I have a UTI.”
“Oh.” Simone straightens up, no longer hunched over in concern. She turns to Dr. Odell. “That’s quite common in pregnancy, isn’t it?”
“How did you know that?” I ask her.
“I’ve been doing some reading. That’s all.”
“Very good,” Dr. Odell says approvingly. “Best thing to do when expecting is to have as many facts as possible.”
Simone turns to me. “If everything is fine, why do you look like that?”
I try to speak but just shake my head.
“That’s okay,” she says quietly. “I brought the car; let me take you home.”