Breeding Ground

by Sarah Pinborough

  “Fuck off, Matt.” Spitting the words at me, she buried herself back down into the bedding.

  I sat there for a few moments waiting for her to start crying or come out and say she was sorry, but there was nothing but cold silence. Eventually, my heart aching and confused, I got up and did the only thing I could. I went to work.

  The day passed slowly, with no business to speak of, just the odd follow-up call to clients. I spent most of the time staring at the small clock on my desk or watching the rain hitting the big glass front window. I didn’t feel like talking and neither did old Mr. Brown it would seem, so we pretty much sat quietly, pretending to be doing something on our computers, drinking coffee and waiting for the day to end. I thought about calling her at lunchtime but left it. Maybe she’d be asleep. That’s what I told myself, but really I just didn’t want to hear her being angry again. I wasn’t sure I could take it. Whatever was wrong with her, it was taking its toll on me, too.

  At ten to five, I started shutting the system down and got my coat from the small kitchen at the back of the office. Mr. Brown was leaning against the draining board, holding a cup of coffee. It had a dark film on the surface, as if it had cooled untouched. How long had he been standing there? I’d been too lost in my own world to notice what he’d been up to.

  “I’m off home now, if that’s all right.”

  He looked up at me a little shocked, as if he’d only just realised I was in the room. “Oh. Right. Yes, of course, off you go.” He attempted a smile, but it only heightened the wrinkles on his face, new wrinkles, the kind you get when you’re tired; really, really tired.

  “I suppose you’ll be cooking something delicious for that lovely girlfriend of yours when she gets in. Tell her to take it easy. She should be relaxing in her condition.”

  I wondered if my own smile looked as awful as his. “She’s at home today. Not feeling herself.”

  He shook slightly, and put the cup down on the drainer. “Peggy’s not too well, either.”

  I pulled my coat on. There was an awkwardness in the air and I wasn’t sure exactly why.

  “Well, I hope she feels better soon. Give her my love.”

  “Yes. And to Chloe. See you tomorrow.”

  Opening the back door, I stepped into the drizzle, the ghost of the downpour not long past. “You will.”

  I considered buying flowers on the way home, but figured that would be extreme blokeism in Chloe’s eyes and so decided on nothing. If she was feeling up for it, I’d get her a takeaway, or just cook her some soup. I just hoped that nasty anger was gone. It had had a tinge of hate in it, I was sure, and unwell as she was, I didn’t want her to hate me. Selfish that might have been, but then all lovers are selfish.

  I found her in the bathroom, under the glaring white light, standing on the scales and sobbing, hugging herself. Her tears were coming thick and fast, and as I appeared in the doorway, she literally fell into my arms, burying her head into my shoulder, soaking it. Her crying was coming from deep down in her chest, really terrible tears, and I squeezed her tight. What now? What now?

  “What is it? What’s the matter, Chloe?” Her matted hair smelt sweaty as I pressed my face into her neck. I thought of the baby. Had something happened to the baby during the day? Why hadn’t I come home for lunch? Oh god, what had I done?

  Her voice was thick. “I’ve put on a stone. A stone in two weeks. That’s nearly three stone in the past two months.”

  Tensing slightly, I was shocked. I knew she’d put on weight, but I hadn’t guessed nearly that much. That was about the amount all the baby books said she should put on in total, and she was only a third of the way through. Jesus. But still, I rationalised as I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, it didn’t mean anything. Maybe her body was just settling down. Maybe from now on, some of the excess weight would drop off. More than anything I just wanted her to calm down. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Short blond hair and wide, frightened blue eyes above a tight mouth. Who was I kidding? I was as confused and scared as she was. Or nearly. I rubbed her arms and back.

  “Well, you are eating for two, babe. You’re bound to put on weight.” It was lame, but it was the only thing I could think of to say. I didn’t expect her reaction, the mix of laughter and tears that poured out of her. She stepped back from me, shaking as the fits of emotion took her.

  God, I felt useless. She seemed like a stranger in front of me, and I wanted it to stop.

  “What? What is it?”

  I knew that whatever it was that was making her laugh so hysterically, it wasn’t going to be funny, and for a small fraction of a second, I wished she’d never got pregnant, I wished we could just go back to how it was before and I wished I didn’t have to hear her dreadful desperate laughter through her tears. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t natural. And I couldn’t deal with it.

  Slowly, she calmed down and wiped her eyes, her breathing irregular. A last giggle escaped before she met my gaze.

  “That’s priceless, Matt. Eating for two. Oh, that’s funny.” She paused and sighed, rubbing fresh tears away with the sleeve of her dressing gown, leaning back against the sink.

  “I haven’t eaten anything for over a week. Not a single thing.” A tragic laugh hiccupped out of her. “And I haven’t even been hungry.”

  My legs were like jelly beneath me. What had she said? I could almost feel the colour draining from my face, my hands instantly cold.

  She looked at me almost pityingly and whispered, “So how can I still be putting on weight? How can that be? How can that be?”

  We stared at each other for what seemed like hours, and in that moment we were closer than we’d been in a while. Both just looking and wondering if this was the thing, the thing that was going to end us, finally arrived. I bit my cheek to stop myself from crying. I looked at her face, still beautiful despite the weight, despite the fear, and I pulled myself together. There were a million reasons for something like this. There must be.

  I haven’t eaten for over a week. Pushing her words away, I straightened myself up.

  “Get dressed. We’re going to the doctor.” I could see her about to protest. “And no arguments.” The strength in my voice surprised even myself, and within ten minutes we were leaving the house. Whatever this was, we’d deal with it. Nothing was taking her from me without a fight. Not her, nor our baby.

  The rain was falling heavily, dripping from the eaves of the old houses and trees, and by the time we’d got into the surgery just off Market Square, only five minutes or so from the house, we were both soaked. They still operated on an “emergency surgery” policy, so as long as you turned up after four P.M. and were prepared to wait awhile, you were pretty much guaranteed to get seen by a doctor.

  Heading up the stairs, I wondered how long we would have to sit around for. The last thing we needed was for Chloe to catch a chill on top of everything else.

  Surprisingly, the dimly lit building seemed pretty desolate, and the elderly receptionist gave us a plastic number and brought Chloe’s details up on the screen before telling us to take a seat. From behind her bifocals, she watched Chloe carefully, almost warily, to the point where it was becoming uncomfortable and I was glad when we got into the waiting room. Maybe she remembered Chloe from a previous visit and was shocked by the change in her, but whatever her reason, the staring was just plain rude as far as I was concerned.

  Far on the other side of the large open space lined with low chairs, an old man, easily in his eighties, coughed and shuffled in his seat. Apart from him, we were the only patients waiting. The rain beat at the windows steady and uncompromising, and I figured that must have been what kept the rest away.

  There was no background music to break the tension, and feeling suddenly awkward and out of place I sat us down on a long row against the far wall, next to the magazine table. Neither of us picked one up. The air barely moved and I resisted the urge to whisper.

  “Must be our lucky day, Clo. We’ll be in and
getting you sorted out in no time.” I smiled at her, almost believing myself now that I was in the surgery, surrounded by anything-is-curable-if-you-catch-it-in-time leaflets. She smiled back, but it was almost lost in her bulging cheeks, less convinced.

  A buzzer went off, a light flashing on the board in front of us declaring Dr. Carney was ready for his next patient. The old man pulled himself slowly to his feet and hung his number next to the doctor’s name before disappearing down the corridor. It was number three.

  We were seeing Dr. Judge, and I thought our number two meant that he had started late, but obviously it was just a very quiet night for the surgery. Spookily quiet. I’d never come to an emergency surgery without having to wait at least forty-five minutes, not for as long back as I could remember. Even as a child, when the town was smaller, you still had a good long wait ahead of you if you came after four. I tried to shake off my feeling of disquiet. There was nothing too odd about it. Out of thirty years, they were bound to have the occasional quiet night. This was just the first one that I’d ever encountered.

  Chloe was quiet beside me, and with just the pounding of my heart in my ears, I was glad when the buzzer broke the silence and called us to our appointment.

  Once in the impersonal office, I sat in a chair against the wall as the doctor weighed her, took her blood pressure and temperature, making all the expected noises, before finally peering into her nose and throat. She sat back down next to me and he took his leather chair on the other side of the desk, scribbling some notes down before speaking. With his head bent forward to write, I could see the bald patch that was growing at the back of his head, its edges flecked with dandruff. Dr. Judge had been here just about forever, and I supposed it was starting to show. I don’t know why I was surprised. I guess I just expected him to stay the same forever.

  He put down the pen. “So, you say you haven’t eaten anything for over a week, and you’re still putting on a few pounds?”

  Beside me, Chloe nodded, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

  “It may be that your blood pressure is fluctuating a little. Nothing to worry about. Quite common in many women. It should settle down by the fifth month and then everything will go back to normal.” He moved some papers around on his desk, and for a moment I was dumbfounded.

  What had he just said? I couldn’t believe it. How could he say that this was normal? I’d expected something, but not this. I was no doctor, but even I knew that what was happening to Chloe was far from normal. Sitting there beside me, she seemed larger than she had been when we’d left the house, and that was just plain crazy.

  She leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Really?” She sounded as shocked as I was. Shocked and relieved. “It’s just that I’ve been feeling really strange recently.”

  Dr. Judge smiled at her. It was an almost genuine smile. “You really shouldn’t be worrying. Just go home and relax. If there’s no change in a month or so, then come back to see me and I’ll give you something to sort out your blood pressure. Okay?”

  “Great. That’s great. Thanks, Doctor, I was beginning to worry. It’s just all this weight and feeling so odd inside . . .” God, she was even beginning to sound a bit different. She sounded . . . older. That was the only way I could describe it. Perhaps there was a more gravelly pitch to her voice. Something.

  “Like I said, nothing to worry about.”

  He already had the door open and before I realised it, we were ushered outside, my head spinning. He hadn’t even checked the baby. Surely he should have put a stethoscope against her stomach or something. It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right.

  I stopped where I was in the corridor. “Chloe, I think we should get a second opinion.”

  She had already reached the stairs, and flashed an angry look at me over her shoulder as I trotted to catch up.

  “He said it was normal. Perfectly normal. Are you trying to find something wrong with me, Matt?” Her tone was biting. God, her moods were changing so fast these days. A moment ago she’d been fine. Worried and upset, but not this new aggression that was rearing its ugly head again. Chloe was never aggressive. It was her cool head that made her such a good barrister.

  “No, I just think we should be certain that he’s right, that’s all.”

  She snorted, tugging the outside door open and stepping outside. “You think I’m disgusting, don’t you? You’re repulsed by me. I see your face when you look at me.”

  I grabbed her arm and spun her round, my face flushed with searing emotion. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I love you, Chloe. I could never love anyone but you, and I could never be repulsed by you. I just think we need to double-check his opinion with someone else. I’m worried about you. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  It was true. Standing there in the rain, I ached with worry. I wanted her back. The her on the inside. I didn’t care about the weight, and yes, maybe she was right, sometimes its strangeness did revolt me, but never her, I was never repulsed by her. I couldn’t be. Raising my arms in a gesture of peace, I made one more vain attempt to get through to her.

  “Didn’t you find it odd that he didn’t check on the baby?”

  Taking three steps backwards, she sneered at me. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? The fucking baby.”

  Again, her non-Chloe words stung. “That’s not true! What’s got into you? Why are you being like this?” I wanted to shake her until I got some sense out of her.

  Her face was truly ugly as she reached into her purse and chucked a twenty pound note at me. Whoever it was that was talking, it wasn’t my Chloe. It was whatever disease was growing inside her. The money landed at my feet, soaked in a puddle instantly. I stared at it, not wanting to look at her. God, I was tired.

  “Go to the pub. I want some time to myself.” She turned and started walking away and I couldn’t help but yell after her barely recognisable outline, “That’s all you ever seem to want these days!”

  I waited until she had passed through the small archway at the end of the cobbled road, turning left and vanishing, before letting my shoulders slump forward. Jesus, what a day. How long had it been coming? How long had we been on the slow downward slide leading to here? I guess you just don’t notice so much when the decay is gradual.

  Is that how it is for all those old couples out there, still together but not knowing why, lying awake at night and wondering just how different it could all have been if they’d just been brave enough to leave? Or was I just judging the world by my own parents’ standards? When your mother tells your father, as he’s dying, that she’d spent the best part of the last forty years trying to build up the courage to murder him in his bed, it tends to leave a stain on your soul. But Chloe and I weren’t like them and we never would be. We never argued. Not ever. This wasn’t Chloe doing this.

  The water invading my clothes through every gap, and feeling less than proud, I leaned forward and retrieved the soaking money, shaking it in a vain attempt to make it slightly less wet. If she wanted some time to herself, then so be it, and I couldn’t think of a better place to spend that time than in the pub.

  Tugging my jacket around me, I headed for The Crown, a hundred yards from the doctor’s. It used to be a proper pub, all cosy snugs and alcoves, used in movies and that kind of thing, but recently it had been sold and was now a classy bar with a small restaurant. To be honest, I normally preferred somewhere more traditional, but Chloe liked it, and we probably spent a couple of hours a week sitting in their comfortable Chesterfields.

  Aside from its proximity, I chose it because it wasn’t a place I was likely to meet anyone I knew that well, as most I knew preferred the warmth and spit and sawdust arrangements of The Vaults Bar on High Street. Not that I’d been out with the boys too much recently. Adulthood meant we’d all become too busy. In fact, I hadn’t really seen any of them since the pregnancy had got underway. Not since all this fat business had really started. Nearly a month. God, didn’t time fly when your world
was falling apart.

  I was glad to see that they had the small open fire lit, adding not only heat, but also life and warmth to the clinical whiteness of the décor. Once I had my pint in hand, I pulled up a chair close to it to dry myself out. The place was nearly empty, which suited me fine. I was in no mood for polite conversation. Instead, I sipped my drink and stared into the flames, lost in my own world of circling thoughts, veering from calm to gloom, but coming up with no answers for a problem that had yet to present me with a definite question.

  I was just emptying my glass when out of the corner of my eye I saw a familiar figure sitting quietly on a bar stool, sipping a large glass of whiskey. My arm froze for a second, and then I slowly lowered it back to the table. It was Dr. Judge. Well, well, well. He didn’t look so cheerful now, and he was drinking too fast for a man just relaxing after a hard day’s work. Maybe it was time to get another pint.

  He didn’t notice me until I placed my empty glass on the smooth black marble bar beside his and placed my order.

  “Evening, Dr. Judge.”

  Looking up at me from beneath his hunched shoulders, his eyes were momentarily glazed, then frightened.

  “You.”

  “Yes, me.” His reaction to me fuelled my need to speak. “I’d like to talk to you about what you said to my girlfriend, if that’s okay with you.”

  He sighed. “The surgery’s closed. If you’re not happy with my diagnoses, then feel free to consult with one of my colleagues in the morning. I’m tired and I’m really not in the mood to get into a discussion.”

  The barman took my money and gave me my pint before moving away. I had a sip before ignoring the doctor’s advice. I didn’t really give a shit what he wanted. I needed to talk to him. I lowered my voice, but couldn’t keep the desperate edge out of it.

  “She hasn’t eaten for a week and is still putting on weight. How can that be normal? How could you say that’s normal? I’ve never heard anything like it, and trust me, I’ve been reading all the books.”