A Brit Player

by Brenda St John Brown

  It’s been making me so queasy I can hardly eat. A fact I share with Rina after a sudden dash to the loo in Pret where I lost most of the falafel wrap I ate.

  “I think dragging this thing out with Max isn’t good for me. I’ll probably end up with an ulcer, but I can’t tell him goodbye. I wish I could.” I take a sip of Coke to wash the bad taste out of my mouth.

  “How long have you been feeling this way?” Rina asks. The little line between her brows is deep.

  “A few weeks. It’s not coincidental.” I shake my head. “I know what I should do, but doing it is another thing completely.”

  “Tara…” Rina pauses long enough that I lean across the table towards her. Finally she lowers her voice and says, “Do you think you could be pregnant?”

  “What?” Hearing the word out of her mouth makes me feel queasy all over again because, yes, I do think I could be pregnant. But I’ve barely even let myself think the word, except to Google how long after unsafe sex it’s possible to take the morning after pill. The answer is five days, not five weeks.

  Unfortunately.

  “Have you taken a pregnancy test?” Rina bites her lip. “I don’t know, you’ve never had a bad tummy before, even with the stress of mocks.”

  “The guy I was madly in love with never left the country before either,” I snap because it’s easier to snap at Rina than to face this.

  “Okay, sorry. It was just a thought, but…” Rina lets her voice trail off.

  “No, I mean –” I let out a long breath that’s jagged around the edges. “I did the maths and I thought I was safe.”

  “Maybe it’s not a bad idea? Just to rule it out. I mean, it’s probably fine, right?” Rina raises her eyebrows and gives me a hopeful smile.

  “I’ve always been a little irregular, but...” I let my voice trail off and try to remember when I calculated that I should get my period. I can’t remember, I should have gotten it already. I know that.

  “You’ve had a lot on your mind. I’m sure it’s probably stress.” Rina pushes her chair back. “Let’s go to Boots. My parents are visiting my sister, so no one’s at my house today. You can do it there.”

  “Okay. Good idea.” My heart slams against my rib cage like a judge throwing down a gavel.

  The feeling only intensifies when we’re in Boots. My hands are shaking so much that Rina offers to pay, and I let her because I’m not sure I can hold my card right now, never mind typing in my PIN. She keeps a firm grip on my forearm all the way back to her house, leading me upstairs to the loo.

  She stops in the hallway outside the door. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

  Rina and I have been friends since primary school and we’ve used the bathroom together plenty. Not lately, though. Sometime after we both got our periods we stopped. Still, I nod. I’m not sure I can do this by myself.

  She pushes open the door to the pink and white bathroom. Everything is pristine, from the gleaming white countertop to the pink ruffled shower curtain. There’s not a single hair or speck of toothpaste on the sink. I watch as Rina takes the cellophane off of the pregnancy test and puts it back in the plastic carrier bag we got. Then she peers at the box and says, “It says place the absorbent tip facing downward under steam of urine for seven to ten seconds. Then replace the plastic cap and place it on a flat surface. Wait five minutes for results. If you see two lines, you are pregnant.”

  I let out a shaky breath and it takes me three tries before I can make myself take the box from Rina’s hand. I stare at the print on the back of the box, but I don’t read it. I’m not sure I even see it. Finally, I fumble the box open and let the contents fall onto the floor.

  There are two tests in the box and Rina bends down to pick up one of them, saying, “Get it over with, Tara. It will be better to know.”

  Would it, though?

  I don’t say the words aloud, but I do make myself take the test from Rina on the first try. I glance up at her and say, “Will you check it for me? I don’t think I can do it.”

  “Of course.” Rina squeezes my shoulder as I undo the button on my jeans. It occurs to me for the first time that I have no idea what she thinks of the possible predicament I’m in. That’s how good a friend she is.

  “I don’t think I’ve told you in a while how much I love you.” I mean this with all my heart, but Rina lets out a low laugh.

  “I love you too, no matter what.” Then her expression turns stern. “You need to get it over with, Tara.”

  I swallow and push my jeans and panties down as I sit down on the toilet seat. Rina hands me the plastic stick and my hands shake so badly, it’s a miracle I don’t drop it in the bowl. It feels like it takes forever for me to pee but finally I do, and I look down to make sure I’m actually peeing on the stick. I’m not going to want to do this twice.

  It feels like an eternity before I finish – definitely more than seven to ten seconds – and I hold my hand out for the cap from Rina. I put it on and then place the test face down on the countertop. Then I turn my back as I pull up my jeans and wash my hands.

  Rina points to the edge of the tub. “Do you want to sit?”

  I shake my head. “Can we open the door? Maybe I’ll feel better if I can pace or something.”

  “Sure, of course.” Rina opens the door and I bolt from the room like I’m being chased by a zombie. The hallway is barely better than the bathroom, but at least I can take more than two steps.

  The mint green carpet is soft under my sock-clad feet and, even though I’ve been in Rina’s house a million times, I feel like I’m seeing it for the first time. A wedding picture of her parents hangs in the hallway, her mum wearing a red wedding sari and her dad in a cream-colored sherwani. They look happy – and so young. Next to the wedding picture is a parade of school photos of Rina and her sisters. It’s like looking at Rina in triplicate, except that her oldest sister, Amrit, has a couple of years where she lightened her hair and it’s a faded orange color. I don’t know Amrit very well – she’s ten years older than us – but Rina always says she was the one who caused all of her parents’ gray hair. Ironic since now she’s a mum of two and a pretty successful mummy blogger, which goes to prove yet again that high school is no indicator of future success.

  I’m lost in thought when Rina’s voice calls from the opposite end of the hallway, “Tara?”

  I stiffen and turn around slower than the broken ballerina in my old jewelry box. Even then, I don’t look up because when I look at Rina’s face, I’ll know.

  In truth, I already know because if it was negative, she would have said that first. So not looking is just me prolonging the moment before everything changes forever. I know it and Rina knows it, too, because she doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t move towards me. She waits until I’m ready.

  When I finally make myself look up, she nods and her eyes are swimming with tears. The tears are what get me. Rina never cries. She broke her wrist playing netball in PE and didn’t cry. But now she’s crying for me and for all the ways my life will never be the same.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “You don’t want to go public with Max because you don’t want to be his girlfriend?” Scarlett takes a sip of wine from where she’s sprawled out on my sofa. “Or is it because you’re scared? They’re two different things.”

  “I am aware.” I give her my best eye roll. “I’m never going to be his girlfriend. That’s not what this is to me.”

  “But why? I mean, you obviously like him. You had hot sex you won’t tell me the details of, but whatever.” Scarlett flashes a grin. “And he seems into you, too.”

  “He’s supposed to be a fling to get me over Tom.” My tone is firm.

  “You haven’t mentioned Tom since you went out with Max, so I call bullshit. Also,” Scarlett points at me with a red painted fingernail. “Don’t go feeling all guilty about that. There’s no need.”

  There’s not, especially after Bradley told me that Tom’s seeing someone, but I
feel a small twinge anyway.

  “Max and I have a history and it’s complicated.” I know this isn’t enough of an explanation to stave off Scarlett’s inevitable questions, but a girl can hope.

  “Well, uncomplicate it.” Scarlett takes another sip of wine.

  “Oh, right. I hadn’t thought of that.” I shake my head. “This isn’t that kind of thing.”

  “What happened that was so terrible? I thought you two were high school sweethearts. The worst thing at that age is an unexpected pregnancy. Which, truth be told, is pretty awful at any age.” Scarlett leans over to pick up another slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table between us.

  So she doesn’t see me freeze until she glances up. I try to recover but I’m not quick enough.

  “Bloody hell.” She drops her piece of pizza back in the box and bolts upright. “Did you…? I mean, were you…? Did you get pregnant?”

  I don’t want to talk about this. I never talk about any of it. No one does except for Chrissy Teigen and Meghan Markle and their circumstances are very different. But that doesn’t mean people shouldn’t talk about it. It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t talk about it. Scarlett isn’t Max and maybe it will help her to stop pushing.

  Maybe it will help me, too.

  I take a deep breath in and move my head up and down in what feels like a nod. I have to swallow three times before I can speak and when I do my voice is strangled, like the words are fighting their way up my throat. “I didn’t know until after Max left for Spain. I couldn’t tell him and make him think he had to come back.”

  “Did you have an abortion?” Scarlett’s tone is soft.

  “No. I lost the baby at twelve weeks.” I give a pained smile that I’m sure looks more like a grimace. “The irony is that I probably wouldn’t have known I was pregnant except I had terrible morning sickness almost right away. I thought at first I had some kind of stomach bug, but it kept happening. I hoped it was stress from Max being gone, but part of me knew. I just didn’t want to face it. My friend Rina was the one who got me to finally take a pregnancy test.”

  Rina has older sisters and was an aunt already, so it wasn’t a stretch for her to recognize the signs. I still remember collapsing at the end of her hallway when I realized.

  Scarlett comes and squeezes next to me in my overstuffed chair, putting her arm around my shoulder. “Jesus, Tara. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. You’ve never said anything about this.”

  I continue like Scarlett hasn’t spoken. “Max had an offer to join this elite team in Spain, but someone got injured and they changed his contract and wanted him straight away. We were supposed to have this romantic night together, but I got there, and he told me he was leaving in the morning, so everything went out the window. We basically had an hour before his mum came home. I think we were both trying to hold on to each other and of course we fell into bed. But the condom broke. I meant to go to the chemist the next morning to get the morning after pill, but I talked myself into not going, convinced I’d be fine.”

  “You obviously weren’t fine.” Scarlett shakes her head. “I assume you didn’t tell Max?”

  “No. I mean, he didn’t bring it up and I didn’t either.” I have to shake my head, too. “The day I found out I was pregnant I broke off all contact with him. I felt responsible. If I’d gone to get the morning after pill like I said I would, it would have been a non-issue. I didn’t know what to say and I figured it would be better for both of us. Eventually he stopped trying to get in touch with me, too.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Tara. You didn’t get pregnant alone and the fact that you were left alone to deal with it was a converging of shitty circumstances.”

  “I wasn’t completely alone. I had Rina.” I bite my lip. “But I know. It was shitty all around.”

  “You never thought about telling him?” Scarlett’s tone is neutral, which I appreciate.

  “What was the point?” I hug my stomach, which doesn’t really help, but it doesn’t hurt either. “I never told anyone except Rina. I was super sick, so I didn’t gain any weight, and then Mother Nature decided for me before I had to decide for myself what to do.”

  “Did you ever tell Tom?”

  “No. I never told him about Max at all.” Because how could I talk about a guy I thought was the love of my life with the guy I hoped would finally banish his memory?

  “Whoa.” Scarlett leans back and lets out a long sigh. “Oh my God, Tara. I can’t imagine what you went through. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks. Me too. I mean, I didn’t want the baby. I was terrified about having to make a decision between having an abortion or putting it up for adoption. I couldn’t fathom either, so I kept putting it off, then I had a miscarriage. But that made me feel worse because I felt so guilty.” I wrap my arms tighter around my stomach, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like it’s working its way up to my throat.

  “I can’t imagine. I’m so, so sorry, lovely.” Scarlett squeezes my shoulder and rests her head against mine for a long minute. When she continues, her voice is still soft, but there’s a firmness there that wasn’t there before. “Before I say anything else, let me state for the record that I think you’re amazing and obviously I support you in any and all choices you make.”

  “Um, thanks? What’s the but?” I don’t move but Scarlett does, straightening until she meets my gaze.

  “I think you’re playing with fire. You and Max have a really heavy history. How on earth do you think you’re going to keep it casual with all of that between you?”

  “There’s no other way. I’d have to tell him if things between us progressed, but how? It would kill him.” I jump up from my chair and pace in front of the sofa. “This is why I never got in touch with him all these years. I should have said no when he won a date with me at the auction. And I definitely should have said no when he offered to walk me home on Sunday. He gave me a choice and I was the one who invited him back here, knowing full well what would happen.”

  “Do you regret it?” Scarlett asks.

  “Yes.” I shake my head. “And no. But ultimately yes because we wouldn’t be having this conversation if he hadn’t written me that stupid note with my stupid lunch.”

  “Remember how I said I’d support you no matter what?” Scarlett’s brow furrows and she doesn’t let me reply before continuing. “If you thought this wasn’t going to eventually come to a head, you’re delusional. Maybe Max’s note accelerated the timeline, but this was always going to resurface for you. There’s no way it couldn’t.”

  “Oh thanks. That’s supportive.” I know Scarlett is right, but it’s easier to direct my frustration at her than at myself.

  “You got pregnant at sixteen, Tara, and you didn’t get that way by yourself. But the guy responsible knew nothing about it so you dealt with all of that alone.” Scarlett’s tone turns gentle. “All of the fear and the worry and the guilt and, yes, the grief, were on your shoulders. So seeing the guy who caused all of that? It’s a lot, even if you think you’ve compartmentalized it somehow.”

  Scarlett’s words hit me in the chest like a cement block. I’ve always been good at compartmentalizing. It’s how I dealt with Max leaving. Once my family moved to the Lake District it was that much easier.

  “I need to end it with him, don’t I?” That cement block embeds itself another foot in my chest and I sink down on the sofa behind me.

  “That’s not the only option. You can always tell him the truth, you know. I don’t know him, but from everything I’ve seen he seems like a decent guy.”

  That’s the problem. He is a decent guy and I’m pretty sure if I tell him, he’ll never forgive me. Or himself.

  “We have plans for this weekend. He invited me up to Norcastle. I’m going to go and then that’s it. The end.” I’m pretty sure my chest has become a cement block at this point.

  “I wish you didn’t feel like that was your only option. You really like him,” says Scarlett.

  “I’ve alwa
ys really liked him, which is why I’m not telling him. But you’re right. Seeing him again brings it all back up again and it was hard enough to get through the first time. So…” I let my voice trail off because there’s really nothing else to say that I haven’t said already.

  My decision is made and if my heart’s not quite on board, well, it’s lived with Max-shaped holes in it for this long. What’s one more?

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I wish I could say that once I firmed up my decision, I feel calm and zen-like, but the truth is I’m snappy and emotional, which is a terrible combination. Unironically, the only thing that’s remotely making me smile is my frequent texts from Max, which I refuse to let myself think about too closely.

  So when my desk phone rings late Thursday afternoon, I pick it up without looking at the caller ID because Max has taken to calling my work number after he’s done with practice for the day and it’s about the right time.

  “Hello, there,” I singsong into the receiver.

  “Tara?” The voice on the other end of the phone is deep and familiar. And definitely not Max.

  “Tom?” My hands turn clammy on the hard plastic and I’m pretty sure my tongue just grew two sizes in my throat. I stand up in case that might help, then sit back down again because standing up makes me feel a little queasy.

  “Hey. I’m in town and I was going to stop by WS. I wanted to give you a heads up before I walked in the door.” Tom’s voice sounds more sure now.

  “Oh. Wow. Um, thanks. That’s nice of you. When are you coming?” Now my whole body’s turned clammy.

  “Probably twenty minutes to half an hour, depending on traffic. I’m over in Chelsea.”

  “Wow. Well, um, it will be great to see you.” I make my mouth move into a semblance of a smile in the hopes that it carries through the line.

  “Yeah, I’ll stop by. You’re still in the same spot, right?”