by Lisa Swallow
Minutes later.
‘Can I come over? Seven?’
‘Yes.’
At least this gives me time to process the surprise. And figure out how to tell Ness she ripped my heart out and stomped on the pieces, so there’s nothing left for her anymore.
***
Seven pm on the dot. So Ness. I hear her car pull up, and the re-boxed emotions try to escape. My dreams and daydreams have been full of memories of our time together. Despite temptation on my many drunken nights out, I haven’t bothered getting another girl to replace the empty space in my bed. I came close a couple of times, but every time, Ness would appear in my mind and I couldn’t do it. Matt still does the one-night stands a lot, and when I see the screaming fallout from his experiences, this also puts me off going back there. Staying clear of girls full stop is the answer. I’m never falling for someone again. So, somehow, I’ll always be Ness’s. Dad has the right idea: women are trouble.
When she comes inside, she doesn’t look like the same Ness. I’m shocked by how pale she is; her green eyes framed by dark smudges and dull. And she’s skinny. Those beautiful curves disappearing. Ness doesn’t smile, or really look at me, just dips her head and sits on the sofa. Arms by my side, I fight the desire to hold this fragile looking Ness. Seeing her in this state sickens me; did I do this?
“Is Matt home?” she asks, voice quiet.
“He’s out tonight.”
“Good.”
“Do you want a drink?”
Ness shakes her head and stares at the floor. Her hands tremble and she sits on them.
I give in and sit next to her. “Are you okay? Has something happened?”
All the prepared speeches about what she’s done to me, how over-the-top her reaction was, and how she can’t snap her fingers and expect me back melt away when she turns her gaze to mine. Strong, confident Ness’s eyes are brimming with tears, and her mouth is turned down. I can’t fight with this Ness.
“Ness? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she whispers.
With those words, she doesn’t need to. There’s only one reason a girl would suddenly decide to find the guy she told to fuck off and never darken her door again.
She says them anyway.
“I’m pregnant, Evan.”
Eyes fixed on each other, we search for answers, trying to see into hidden thoughts. But the barrier between us stops any chance. Silent tears spill down her reddened cheeks, and I don’t know what she wants me to do. To say. Should I hug her? Tell her everything will be okay? Because everything is not fucking okay. Eventually, I get up and walk into the kitchen.
I’m not sure how long I rest against the kitchen bench studying my shoes before Ness appears. She hangs in the doorway, watching me warily. I have so many questions racing through my mind. My tight chest restricts my breathing, and I’m trapped. Literally.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“I only found out yesterday. I don’t know. But I thought you should know.”
“Thanks.”
The conversation halts. After weeks of not speaking, the words dry up more readily than usual. She’s had time to get her head around this, maybe not much time, but more than me. Pregnant. Baby. Fuck. The world just took a huge step into the surreal. I need time to process this before I open my mouth and say the wrong thing.
Ness folds her arms across her chest. “So, I should go?”
I blink. “Why?”
“You obviously don’t want to talk about this. I understand.” Her voice croaks as she turns from me.
“I do. But I don’t know what to say. What you want to hear.”
A frowning Ness turns back to me. “I don’t want to hear anything apart from how you really feel. I don’t want you saying anything you don’t mean.”
“To be honest, I’m in shock.”
“Yeah, this is a bit of a surprise to me too.” There’s a sad bitterness in her voice.
I don’t want to go into how this happened, because I think I’d get the blame. Christmas Eve. I don’t think we used a condom. I meant to check with Ness the next day, and with everything that happened, it slipped my mind. Why didn’t I think at the time? I don’t fucking know. Alcohol. Lust. Surprise at the suddenness and intensity. Ness obviously doesn’t remember. I’m a fucking idiot.
“Fuck!” I cover my face and close my eyes, hoping the darkness is gone when I open them.
When I do, Ness has paled further. Hesitantly, I cross the kitchen and stop just in front of her. So close, the memories of every time we tangled in bed, or sat together on the sofa and kissed flood back. The girl who made the sun shine brighter.
“I’m here for you, Ness,” I say softly, “if you’ll let me help.”
Her tears start again, and I wipe them away with my finger. Alarmingly, this causes more to flow, and I give in. I grab Ness, pull her to me, and bury my nose into her familiar, soft hair.
I take a breath and say what I intended to keep hidden. How I feel. “I don’t know what happened between us. I don’t understand why we’re in the place we are now. But I love you. I never stopped loving you, and I don’t think I ever will. I’ll do everything you need me to.”
Ness’s body shakes with sobs and she relaxes into my chest, figure crumpling against me. This isn’t Ness. Her strength has gone and she’s lost. But she came to find me.
***
NESS
The day after I tell Evan, I call the hospital and book the scan. Allow the reality of my new future into my life. Despite Evan’s words last night, the lost confusion returned to his eyes and I decided to leave him to process things. I don’t think either of us really knew what to say; Evan held me for a while, but we barely spoke. In the end, Matt came home and I had to leave. I didn’t feel well and couldn’t cope with anyone else knowing right now. Leaving was awkward; Evan hesitated at the door, and I think he wanted to kiss me, but instead, he gave me one last hug and kissed the top of my head. I don’t know what we want from each other, what he wants from me, but there’s so much more to talk about. Trust to be found.
I don’t go to class. Partly, I feel too ill, the sickness and dizziness intensifying with the lack of sleep. Abby hovers around, avoiding asking me questions I don’t want to answer, but informing me I did the right thing telling Evan.
But where do we go from here?
The Evan who arrives on my doorstep today looks like he had as little sleep as I did. The haunted look is back, but Lucy didn’t cause it this time. I step back awkwardly as he walks inside, avoiding his hug. I don’t know how I feel about this. Us.
“Thanks for coming over,” I say.
Evan sits on the sofa, dangling his hands between his knees. I move to the armchair opposite and study him. “I’m sorry, Evan.”
He frowns at me. “Why sorry? It’s not like you chose this.”
How can I tell him this isn’t what I’m apologizing for? That I’m saying sorry for the last few weeks. Since last night, I’ve questioned why I let this go on for so long. I pause, hoping he has something similar to offer me – an explanation or attempt to resolve things. But looking into his drawn face, I can see only one thing is on his mind. The pregnancy. Now isn’t the time to discuss this.
“Okay,” I say in the end.
“Ness, I said I’d help you out. And I mean it. Just tell me whatever you need from me.”
You, a voice screams in my head, but I push that Ness away again. He can’t give himself to me; he’s tried and failed. This isn’t what should bring us together. This forces us together. This is Evan, isn’t it? The guy who helps people out when they need.
I stand. “Can we go out somewhere? I can’t stay in the house, but I don’t feel up to class. Somewhere we can talk.”
Evan smiles, eyes brightening. Because I said I wanted to spend time with him? “I know where we can go.”
We drive across the city; the whole time my traitorous body is aware of Evan’s clos
eness. Despite the fear and nausea, being next to him again fuels the desire to be in his arms. I know this is more than needing his help; this is opening up to my stupid self who rejected this guy. Throughout the journey, he repeatedly glances at me, or squeezes my hand, or both.
“You don’t look well, Ness.”
I don’t know how pregnant women are supposed to look, but glowing isn’t a word I’d apply to myself. I’m not sure if the shock of the news has made things worse, or if I’m getting the flu, because I feel worse than ever.
“I have a hospital appointment in a couple of days. They can check me out then.” Evan nods and I take a deep breath. I’m not sure I know how far I can go with this: him, babies, any of the nightmare. I definitely can’t have this conversation when he’s paying attention to the road. So I stay silent until we reach the car park.
The car tires crunch over the gravel, and I’m not surprised by where we are. I knew he’d take me to either the mill town or Roundhay Park. Tropical World.
“I didn’t think you looked up to going far, so I brought us here.”
This is so Evan. He’s trying, trying hard to reconnect us to a happier time. Maybe wanting to see me is more than the obligation over the pregnancy. I unclip my seatbelt and shift in my seat, the aching in my back stabbing.
“We should talk about what I’m going to do.”
“We?” At least his tone is hopeful and not disappointed.
“About the ‘we’. I’m involving you, Evan, but this is my decision. It’s not as if we’re in a stable relationship. Or any position to have a baby.”
Evan pales. “You’ve already decided?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“I need some air,” I say and open the car door.
The February breeze hits my face, cooling the growing perspiration on my forehead. I should’ve stayed at home. Squinting at the sun, I turn to Evan, who walks around the car towards me.
“We can be,” he says.
“Can be what?”
“Together?” Evan takes my hand and rubs the back with his thumb.
I slump against the car. “We’re not getting back together just because I’m pregnant.”
Evan rests next to me, and I remember the hug last night. The aching need for him not to let go. Evan smells of the happiness we shared, his jacket open across the muscled chest he held me close to day after day.
“I never wanted to split up. So getting back together wouldn’t be for that reason. Not for me,” he says.
“Let’s not go there now. I can’t talk about this. I don’t feel well.”
“I think we should. Be mature about this, because we’re in a pretty mature situation here. Stop pushing me away again.” His determined voice surprises me, but he’s right.
“Okay.”
He shifts sideways, leaning against the door. “First, I need to talk to you about Christmas.”
I inhale and close my eyes. “That’s the past now.”
“No, it’s not. Not until you listen to me about why I went.”
“Okay, but I’m too cold to stay outside.” We walk towards the entrance of the building and Evan finally gets the chance he’s waited for. To explain Christmas Day. The story of Lucy, Evan, Brandon, and Jade. He reels off the story as if he’s reading the news, and I know he’s disconnected himself from the events.
Halfway through his story, I place a hand on his arm, willing him to stop. I know this Evan better than he thinks; I can see the dusty corner of his soul he told me about last year. And in that dusty corner is a little boy. Two little boys. I finally understand.
He didn’t just go because of Lucy. The reason was so much bigger than her, and I punished him. Us. Tears fight their way into my eyes, but I’ve shed too many tears in the last two days. What did I do? I ruined this.
“I wish you’d told me this on Christmas Day,” I whisper.
“I tried. You weren’t in a listening mood.”
I pull my sleeves over my hands. “And what now? Where are they?”
“Social services. I’m not involved.” I don’t mean to, but I pull a face of surprise. “I’m not, Ness. I haven’t spoken to Lucy much since I came back to Leeds. And I’ve told her I’m done with all her shit she piles onto me.”
Tears fill my eyes again and I’m annoyed with myself. The barrier to Evan wavers; I want his help, not him. But who am I kidding? After what he just told me, I realize how over-the-top I behaved. Composing myself, I pull my purse from my bag and pay the entrance fee, hyper-aware of Evan’s eyes on me.
I walk on, my mind a whirling mess of confusion. Evan strides to catch up and he reaches out a hand, curls his fingers around mine. I stop and pretend I’m watching the meerkats when I’m fighting my need to bury my head in his chest and feel strong arms around me, have Evan tell me everything will be okay.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Ness. About us. Can we try again?” He touches my face, eyes, searching for answers in mine.
“I’m sorry.”
The words are barely audible, but Evan smiles and rubs a finger across my lips. Something very Evan, a gesture he used all the time when we were together. “We’re both to blame.”
I look back to the meerkats. “So what now?”
Evan gently takes my arm and turns me towards him. His mouth hovers close to mine, and I know I’m lost. I know this is really what I want. Him. “Can I kiss you?”
I don’t move or speak, and he places his lips gently on mine. Withdrawing, he cups my face in his hands. “I love you. I want to be with you. I don’t care if what has happened is why you’re here. Because I get the chance to tell you once more what you mean to me. Ness, you’re my world. The stars went out the day I realized we were over. I wasn’t prepared for how much being without you would hit me.”
I push my mouth against his, regaining the lost familiarity of Evan’s lips, and he holds the back of my head, kissing me softly. He’s right. Whatever we decide to do, what happened ties our lives. There’s always going to be an us now. Just what sort of us remains to be seen.
“I know we have a lot to talk about, but can we have a few hours where we don’t?” I ask.
“The baby?”
I cringe at the words coming from Evan’s mouth, and in response, perspiration breaks out on my forehead. He’s said the word. Made everything happening real. “Let’s see the butterflies. That’s why we’re here?”
Evan stares at me for a moment then takes my hand and squeezes it. “Okay, we’ll talk about this later?”
Honestly, all I want is to go home, because each passing moment, the dizziness increases. The emotion of the last conversation, of possibly regaining Evan, hasn’t helped. But we can’t leave without returning to the place linking ourselves to the old Ness and Evan.
The heat from inside the butterfly house stifles my already short breath, and the world morphs in and out of view as I lean against a wooden handrail, focusing on staying conscious. The multi-colored butterflies flit around the humid room. A large blue one perches on the edge of a pink hibiscus, seeming distant the more my light-headedness increases. I look back to Evan, whose face is as bright as the first day we came here, his arm across my shoulders. We’re not fixed, but I guess we’re not shattered into pieces anymore.
“I think I need to sit down,” I whisper to him.
Evan’s eyes fill with concern and he touches my forehead. “You look worse; it’s too hot in here. Let’s get you some water.”
A sharp pain in my back doubles me over and I grab Evan’s hand. “I think I’m going to faint.”
The world blackens.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
EVAN
The poster on the hospital waiting room wall advises the dangers of smoking. I’ve read the words dozens of times in an attempt not to think. I should call Abby, but I don’t know her number, and the doctors have Ness’s phone. They found her parents’ number on the phone and contacted them, but they live hours away. So
I sit alone and wait for news.
When Ness collapsed, I thought she’d just fainted, but when she remained unconscious, I panicked. She didn’t come around properly at all, not when the paramedics came, not in the ambulance, and not as they wheeled her into the hospital. All I could do was watch this nightmare scene playing out in front of me. Something is really wrong; however calm the medical staff try to be, I know this is serious. I want to ask them if she’s going to die, but can’t bring myself to say the words.
A doctor comes into the waiting room through the double doors from the Emergency department. She doesn’t look much older than me. Ness in a few years’ time? I’m ushered into a side-room. This isn’t good. Please let her be all right.
The blonde-haired doctor sits on a desk chair opposite the one I cautiously sit on. “Ness’s pregnancy was ectopic.”
I stare at her blankly, noticing the smiley face stickers on Dr. Louise Greenwood’s name badge. I wonder if they put those on there for the children to look at. I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about.
“Ectopic pregnancies are where the embryo grows in the fallopian tube instead of the womb.” She continues, “It’s difficult to differentiate from an early miscarriage, although she will have had symptoms. Did she mention backache or bleeding recently?”
I don’t need a fucking science lesson. I just need to know if Ness is okay. “She found out she was pregnant a couple of days ago. Was going for scans. I don’t understand what you’re telling me. How is she?”
The doctor smiles serenely. I wonder if they learn this in med school – how to put someone at ease when you’re about to tell them something bad.
“She’s in surgery. The fallopian tube ruptured and she has severe internal bleeding. That’s why she collapsed.”
I sink my head into my hands and grip my hair. Internal bleeding. Like they say on the news. How people die. “Is she going to be okay?”
“We’re looking after her.”
I look up. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“She’s very unwell, but she’s here, and we’re looking after her.”
Images of Ness lying on the floor, in the ambulance, and images of her on an operating table constrict my chest. I heave in a breath.
