Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sadie
I ’m so scared.
I literally have never been so terrified in all my life.
I switch between pacing my lounge floor and curling up on my bed, too anxious to move. And too broken. Every time I close my eyes, I see Leo’s devastated face as I told him I was considering my options. The pain I placed in those hazel eyes… I don’t think I will ever forgive myself for that. I just keep hurting him, but this time I can’t claim ignorance.
I took today out sick because I just can’t face him. And my brain is nowhere near in the right space for working.
But how can I possibly do this? This… pregnancy - I’ve been mentally shying away from the word, but I’m a fucking adult and that bullshit evasion has to stop now - was entirely accidental. I still have no clue how it could have happened, given the success rate of the contraceptive implant I have, but here I am, knocked up in spite of being responsible.
I can’t be a mother. I’m a hot mess with naff all in the bank and a pet parrot with a foul mouth. I’m not ready. Nowhere near.
And my parents are going to murder me. Another accidental grandchild? I feel like throwing up when I think of the ugly things my dad will say and my mum will tacitly agree with by virtue of not disagreeing with him. I am dead meat.
Tim will back me up, though. Christ almighty, I couldn’t have a better sibling in this situation. If I did go ahead with this, he’d tell me everything I needed to know and give me a shit ton of parenting hacks. Eleanor is an awesome kid, and that’s at least partially down to the way he and Nat raised her.
And I know Leo would step up. I mean…he seemed thrilled when I told him. Like it was the best news I could have given him. I can’t understand that. This is a disaster . We’ve barely scratched the surface of being together. I’m still settling into being with him. I thought I could do that at my own pace, but now I’m like a lobster thrown into boiling water. And I don’t think it’s right. I think this is much too much pressure on a relationship as new as ours. Sonofabitch, I don't even know if I ever wanted to be a parent. I wasn’t there yet. It wasn’t even on my radar.
I want what we have, what we’re developing together, to still be about us. Him and me getting to know each other in this brand new context in our own time, no rush, no hurry. But now…babies can destroy even established relationships. What the hell would it do to ours?
On the other hand…would he ever forgive me if I went ahead and had an abortion? Because, as fiercely defensive as I am about bodily autonomy for all…this is his baby, too, and I know he wants it. At least, he did when I told him; but he may have thought better of it since then.
The thought raises a lump of dread and sorrow into my throat.
A memory flashes into my head of holding Eleanor as a baby when I was sixteen. I adored her straight away. She was nestled in my arms, so tiny, so sweet…and so very, very intimidating.
Tim stepped up from the word go, and we had her with us overnight on a regular basis. He’d get up every time she cried, not accepting any help…and he’d be on his knees with exhaustion the next morning, struggling not to drift off to sleep at college.
But he did love Eleanor , a small voice reminds me. He’d have had no sleep at all because she’d had a bad night, and then still be able to beam at her, one thousand percent besotted, when she did something cute, like rub his arm with her tiny hand as he bottle fed her the next morning. He loved her, and he was happy.
Tentatively, I allow myself to have another go at picturing what the future would look like if I just…went ahead with this. A son, a baby boy with Leo’s cheeky smile charming everyone he meets. Or a daughter, the apple of her daddy’s eye, wrapping him around her little finger.
Be balanced , I remind myself. Babies aren’t all smiles and laughs and baby powder and sweet outfits. They scream, they shit, they puke, they have loud meltdowns, they destroy your ability to sleep, they’re a huge and inescapable responsibility that will never give you a single minute to yourself… Do I have the temperament for that?
Could I learn?
Or am I just…
Not mother material.
I’ve already messaged the girls saying I can’t go to krav maga tonight; another sacrifice. They were surprised, but they offered to ditch class altogether so they wouldn’t get ahead of me in our learning. And they offered to come over so they could be there for me, whatever might have happened. I told them not to, but they might do it anyway. I check the clock on my wall. Three p.m.
I count on my fingers. My brain is roadkill right now, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be about nine thirty, maybe ten in the morning in Louisiana.
And I can think of only one person I want to offload to right now.
Grabbing my phone, ignoring the messages waiting for me and trying not to see who any of them are from, I head to Hangouts to see if Wendy’s online. Dean’s mother is warmer and more loving to me than my own mother, and, while I know she and Leo have a special bond, I know she’ll listen carefully and respectfully, and then give it to me straight without being hard on me.
She is there, the little green circle in her icon letting me know that I can talk to her.
I start to type something, but I can’t think of anything coherent to write. So, without overthinking it, I tap the video call button.
It takes a few rings, but she answers eventually, wearing an apron and looking like she has a little flour or powdered sugar on her cheek.
“Sadie,” she cries happily, like I’m one of her favourite people in the world. “How are you, bebe ? I’m just trying to make bananas foster cheesecake, and it - petale , what’s wrong?”
It took five seconds of hearing her voice for my eyes to fill with tears. The moment she asked me what was wrong, that was it: I burst into noisy sobs.
“Oh, sweetie,” she says with concern, “oh, I wish I could hug you, honey. Tell me what’s happened?”
She’s patient with me while I get myself under control. Well, as close to under control as I am able to be right now. I’m still hiccupping and pausing to try to stop crying as the whole sorry mess comes pouring out of me. From the aftermath of the wedding, to how easy, almost too easy, falling into being with him has been, to throwing up yesterday morning and the results of the pregnancy test.
She listens, but she remains silent, not giving away her own emotions about this, for which I am grateful.
I tell her my doubts about my suitability for being a mum, hugely relieved when she doesn’t insist that of course I can do it, even though the baby’s father is her beloved nephew. Denying my fears doesn’t make them go away, and I appreciate that she doesn’t try.
“Well,” she says on a sigh, “first of all, how are you feeling? Physically?”
I rub my hands under my eyes, pretty much cried out after that outburst. “I’ve been sick a couple of times, and my boobs are sore.”
She smiles the knowing smile of someone who’s been there. “Poor sweetheart. It will pass.”
The words ‘if you choose to go through with it’ are unspoken.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit. “There doesn’t seem to be a right answer. I can’t…I don’t know how…” I bury my head in my hands. “Why did this have to happen?”
“Sadie,” she begins, and pauses to consider her words. “Take away all the practicalities. They can be sorted out either way, and a lot easier than you think. This is the sort of decision that can’t be made with your head. Or your heart, to be honest with you. You’re going to have to go with your gut. Listen to your raw instinct: what do you want? Do you want this baby, or not?” She gives me a gentle smile. “Because there are no half measures. No changing your mind once you decide. You can’t have one foot in and one foot out. It’s full commitment now, or nothing. And that goes for the baby and for Leo. Kit uses this phrase, and I hate it, but I’ll use it now because it’s apt: you need to piss or get off the pot.” She wrinkles her nose as she says it.
“Shoot or put down the gun,” I say dully, remembering that phrase I thought to myself when it came to taking the leap of faith with Leo or letting him go, that first night we slept together. This baby is nature’s way of forcing me to decide once and for all, I guess.
In spite of the turmoil, I relish that unique feeling of tiredness and dull relief having spilt my guts to someone close to me, someone who isn’t judging or angry, but only cares how I’m feeling.
“It’s not fair on you, or the baby, or Leo, if you try to skirt around the edges and hedge your bets still, ami . I’m not going to try to influence you either way, because that wouldn’t be fair… All I will say is, be sure, and stand by your decision. There’s no right or wrong answer, only what feels best to you. But once you’ve made that choice, that’s it. No going back.”
It feels like days later, but is really only hours, when I pick up my phone.
I’ve gone back and forth, trying to drown out the chaos in my brain and the ache in my heart and follow Wendy’s advice. It’s so difficult, when both are determined to get my attention, but eventually, it occurs to me that I’m thinking about one of the two paths in front of me more than the other.
And I still don’t know if I’m making the right choice, but I have nothing else to base it on.
Maybe I’m being selfish. Maybe I’m doing entirely the wrong thing. Maybe this will blow our budding romance to smithereens.
But the more I dwell on the realities, the more I can’t see any other way that I can accept.
I pick up my phone, which has almost run out of battery, and call Leo.
My heart squeezes when he picks up after the first ring. “Sadie.” His voice is hoarse, yet urgent.
I struggle to talk for a few seconds. “Can… Please will you come over?”
“I’m on my way.” He rings off, and I stare at my phone for what feels like ages before there’s a knock at my door. Three light taps, like he’s afraid of disturbing me.
I must look a sight when I open the door, because he bites his lip hard. I haven’t brushed my hair in over a day, and my eyes are still swollen from my crying jag when I spoke to Wendy. Wordlessly, I stand aside to let him in, and he lingers close to me, looking at the floor.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” I say, and the tears I thought I’d drained dry start up again. Instantly, he throws his arms around me, stroking my hair and rocking us both from side to side.
“It’s OK,” he whispers, over and over. His words fracture now and again, but I can feel, in how tightly he’s holding me while I cry, how he’s holding his breath, that he’s working on keeping himself together with everything he’s got.
“Please don’t hate me,” I beg. I couldn’t bear it if he didn’t forgive me for how I handled telling him.
“I could never hate you,” he murmurs, resting his head on top of mine. “Not ever. No matter what.”
“I just…I shouldn’t have told you like that.” I pull back, and he just looks at me as I try to stop the flow of tears from my sore, hot eyes. My head is throbbing horribly. I head through to my lounge, and he follows me, pressing his lips together and returning his gaze to the ground. He looks pale, and when I look closer, I can see his hands trembling.
What have I done to this wonderful man? And how am I possibly going to explain my decision to him? I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s going to be on board, but it’s still a very selfish thing I’m doing.
We sit next to each other on my couch, staring at our hands, and I know that he’s not going to say a word until I speak. He isn't going to give me any type of clue as to how he feels, or if he’s changed his mind.
“Listen, I…” I take a shaky breath, and he reaches across and takes one of my hands in both of his, giving me a gentle squeeze of encouragement. I nearly break again. This man is in bits, and he’s still prioritising me .
Suddenly, all doubts about this path I’ve chosen leave me.
“I can’t do it,” I say. His jaw clenches, and he lets go of my hand, leaving me feeling chilled and lonely. “I can’t get rid of this baby. I’m so sorry, I know you were happy when I first told you, and for all I know you might have changed your mind and thought better of it because you’ve had time to think about things…and I know there are a million reasons not to have it, to just head to the clinic and not look back. And I know I’m being selfish in landing this obligation on you, even though I’m pretty sure this is what you want, but I promise, I promise , you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with… But whether you still want it or you don’t, I am keeping it.”
He’s been staring at my table, not moving a muscle, not so much as blinking, the entire time I was speaking. After I’ve finished my word vomit, I try to catch my breath, and he murmurs, “Are you sure?”
I nod, guilty but certain. I just can’t bring myself to get rid of our child, even if I can’t give a reason why. I am in no way ready to be a parent, and there’s so much that could go wrong, but this is happening, this is in motion, and I’ve decided I’m not going to stop it.
Leo’s face disintegrates as he leans forward, burying his head in his knees. His shoulders shake, and I’m just about to beg him for forgiveness when I hear him brokenly repeating, “Thank god, thank god…”
I hug him awkwardly, leaning on his back, and he reaches for me, sitting up and pulling me into his arms again, crying on my shoulder quite unashamedly. “Thank you, thank you , you won’t regret it,” he mumbles, leaning back and giving me a look of pure love that makes my heart skip a beat. “I swear to you, you will never regret it. I will love you both so much, day in, day out, I promise. I promise .”
I feel stricken. Why would I ever have thought he could have changed his mind about wanting this baby? “I’m so sorry I put you through this…I just…I should have talked to you, discussed it, and I… threw the test at you and then…told you that I might… Oh my god, I’m the worst! ”
He gives me a soft, joyous smile, the remnants of tears still on his eyelashes. “Don’t speak about the mother of my child that way.” Leaning towards me, he lifts my top up until my stomach is bared to him. He runs his hand over the still-flat surface, lovingly and almost enraptured, before running several kisses all around my belly button. “Ignore what your mum just said,” he whispers to it, speaking to that tiny presence like it can already hear and understand him. “She’s the best .”