Storm Shells

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  I wasn’t prepared to let Edna answer. I’d heard enough. I practically forced Charli into the car. As soon as we were on the road I glanced across at her. She was staring out the window. I grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers. “Say something, please.”

  “What if she’s right?”

  “Please tell me you’re not buying into this mumbo jumbo.” She shrugged, giving me no reassurance whatsoever. “Charli, I think you’d know if she was right, wouldn’t you?”

  Sometimes I adored Charlotte’s take on the world. It was ethereal and enchanting. Other times it was just plain ridiculous – like now. I could deal with fairies and La La Land, not this.

  “I don’t know what to think,” she said. “But I know weird things have been happening to me lately.”

  “Like?”

  She held her hand up. “My curly fry rings fit me. They never used to.”

  “You grew into them,” I reasoned. “Give me something a little less La La.”

  She frowned. “I’m tired all the time.”

  “Jetlag.”

  “I’ve been home for weeks, Adam. I don’t think it’s jetlag any more.”

  “Maybe you’re sick.”

  “Would you prefer it if I was?”

  I answered with a disapproving look.

  “My period’s late.”

  “How late?”

  “Late, late.”

  I wasn’t sure what late, late meant, but it didn’t sound good. “Charli, how have you not told me this before?”

  She shrugged. She actually shrugged. We might as well have been discussing the weather.

  “I wanted to wait and see what happens.”

  “A freaking baby is what’s going to happen if you’re pregnant.” I thumped the heel of my hand on the steering wheel, totally frustrated with her.

  “It’s probably nothing,” she muttered. “I wish I hadn’t told you.”

  “Well, we need to find out one way or another. I’m not taking a crazy woman’s word for it. We’ll get one of those test thingies.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t just walk in to a shop and buy a pregnancy test. Floss Davis will be knitting booties before we get out the door.”

  “Fine. We’ll drive to Hobart. And if that’s not far enough we’ll go to Launceston.”

  “Stop it, Adam,” she snapped. “Just give me a minute to think.”

  It was a long minute. Charli didn’t say another word in the next half hour. I just kept driving, sticking with my Hobart plan.

  “Charli, I need to know.” I sounded desperate. “We need to know.”

  “Okay. I have a plan,” she announced. “We’re going to steal a test.”

  I wasn’t outraged. The only plans Charli ever made were of the criminal variety.

  “We’re going to break into my dad’s house,” she continued. “Gabrielle keeps heaps of them in the bathroom cabinet. I’ve seen them. She’ll never notice one missing.”

  “What if they’re there?” I asked.

  “They’re not there. Alex is at the café and Gabrielle is teaching an art class at the community hall until four.” She waved her phone. “I just texted them both to double check.”

  I didn’t question her sketchy plan. I just changed direction and headed for the house.

  As expected, no one was there, but it still felt shady.

  “Don’t look so panicked, Adam,” said Charli. “A little illegal activity is good for the soul.”

  I glanced at her and was met with a smile. “You know, I should be concerned by your enthusiasm,” I told her. “If you pull a balaclava out of your bag, I’m leaving.”

  She reached into her bag, wiggling her eyebrows at me. I breathed a small sigh of relief when she produced a set of keys.

  “You have keys,” I said, stating the obvious.

  “Of course I have keys. It’s my dad’s house. You’re the only person who doesn’t have keys to their parents’ house.”

  “My parents probably don’t even have keys to their house. We don’t need keys.”

  “No, you don’t,” she agreed. “You use a Mrs Brown to get in.”

  “Get out of the car, Charlotte,” I muttered making her laugh.

  We made a dash for the bathroom the second we were in the door. Charli opened the cabinet, and a heap of boxes crashed into the sink.

  “I told you,” she said, trying to restack them. “Hundreds of the bloody things.”

  “Just pick one and let’s go,” I ordered, keeping watch at the door.

  “Relax, Adam. You make a terrible thief. You’re so antsy.”

  “Charlotte,” I groaned, “can we take this seriously please?”

  She picked up a box and began reading the instructions. “I’ll just do it here.”

  It occurred to me that I didn’t really know what ‘it’ was. “What do we have to do?”

  “You’ve probably done enough.” She tore the wrapper off a white plastic stick and waved it around. “I have to pee on this.”

  “So do it,” I said urgently.

  She blinked at me a few times. “Are you planning to watch?”

  “No, of course not.” I stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed, wishing I were anywhere but in that house. After a long minute, she called me back in.

  “Well?”

  “I don’t know yet. We have to wait a few minutes.”

  Determined not to wait a second longer than necessary, I set the timer on my phone. We said absolutely nothing as the seconds ticked past like hours. We just stared at each other. Every possible scenario played out in my mind – and none of them were particularly good. Charli looked perfectly calm. I had a sinking feeling that she was already picking out names.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “What do you want me to say, Charli?”

  “Are you mad?”

  “No. It’s just unexpected. I thought we were careful.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t even sound like you believe that.”

  I had to concede that she was right. I am sensible and cautious in every aspect of my life, except all things Charlotte. “We’ve had the odd moment, I guess.”

  She stepped forward and whispered. “Like your parent’s downstairs powder room at Thanksgiving?”

  “A few moments then,” I amended.

  “Or the wine cellar at Billet-doux?”

  I grinned, because her cheeky expression gave me no choice. “That didn’t count.”

  “Oh, it totally counted, Adam.”

  My phone beeped, announcing the possible end of life as we knew it. We stared at the white stick on the counter.

  “You look at it,” Charli ordered.

  I picked it up and studied the result. I couldn’t even pretend to know what it meant. “There are two pink lines. One is pretty faint though.”

  Charli re-read the instructions. “Faint counts, Adam.”

  “Counts as what?”

  “A positive result,” she said flatly.

  I learned something that day. Tipping the stick upside down does not make the second line disappear, nor does running it under water. Hiding it in your pocket does, but only until you take it out again.

  Charli stared at me while I futilely tried rewinding the last two minutes of our lives. “Can we go home now, Einstein?” she asked finally.

  Her sarcasm was warranted. My brain was mincemeat.

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  We wandered back to the car like a couple of stunned sheep.

  Charli spoke first. “Do you remember the time I told you that I wanted to have ten of your babies?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t really.”

  Thank God!

  “But one might be lovely,” she added.

  It wasn’t the direction I was hoping she’d want to go. Nothing about going through with it seemed right. I just couldn’t think of a tactful way to say so.<
br />
  I glanced at her only briefly, because I was a coward. “I think we need to talk about it. We’ve got choices, Charli.”

  “You said you weren’t mad.”

  “I’m not. I just want to be sure we explore every avenue.”

  I winced as I said it. Even to me I came across sounding like a cold-hearted jerk.

  “What are your concerns?” she asked, matching my mechanical phrasing.

  I looked at her as I mapped out the answer in my head. I didn’t want a baby. We were too young. We lived on opposite sides of the world. We were a scattered mess. I really, really didn’t want a baby.

  I decided to put the least damaging reason into words. “We’re not ready.”

  She unclipped her seat belt and angled toward me. “How do people know when they’re ready, Adam?”

  “They plan it. They talk about it and prepare for it and generally make sure their lives are in order.”

  “Don’t you think some things are just meant to be?”

  I shook my head. I refused to let La La Land even rate a mention. I wasn’t interested in hearing how my stupid carelessness resulted in a gift from the fairy realm.

  She slumped back, resting her head on the headrest. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it? Gabi and Alex would kill to be in our position. We’ve just stolen their most longed-for wish.”

  “Charli, stop it,” I muttered. “One has nothing to do with the other.”

  “Nothing happens without reason, Adam.” She turned to look at me. “If I lose faith in that, then nothing in my life makes sense.”

  I wanted to kiss and scream at her simultaneously, but wasn’t capable of either. All my concentration needed to be spent reasoning with her.

  “How are we supposed to tie this all together? We can’t keep ourselves together. Bouncing a child back and forth between nations is not –”

  She cut me off with a desperate offer. “I’ll come back to New York.”

  It didn’t feel the least bit honest. How I handled that would determine what sort of man I was.

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’d settle?”

  “Yes.”

  I found myself agreeing to her absurd offer.

  I was a dick. A selfish, dishonest dick.

  January 2

  Charli

  The only thing worse than being backed into a corner is realising that you put yourself there. Going back to New York was a dumb idea and I couldn’t understand why I’d suggested it.

  It didn’t take a genius to tell that Adam wasn’t thrilled to be having a baby. Trying to wash the positive result off the test was a sure-fire sign that parenthood was not a road he was ready to travel.

  I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt, mainly because I didn’t feel any different than I had three hours earlier, when I was late, late and not pregnant. At that moment the white stick didn’t seem any more credible than Crazy Edna.

  “I should probably see a doctor,” I said, thinking out loud. “Just in case the test was wrong.”

  “Do you think it could be?”

  I shouldn’t have said anything. I’d just given him hope. “Probably not. I think they’re fairly accurate.”

  His head lolled back as he closed his eyes and let out a long breath. I could hear his mind ticking over. When things don’t go to plan, Adam comes up with new ones. It’s how he’s programmed to function.

  “We’re going to work this out, Charli,” he promised.

  As far as I was concerned, there wasn’t anything to work out. It was a done deal. I just wanted him to find the joy in it.

  “Well, let me know when you’ve come up with a plan,” I said sarcastically.

  He turned his head, looking positively wounded. “Charli, I –”

  “Stop talking, Adam.” I threw open the car door. “It gets us nowhere.”

  If he spoke again, I was too far away to hear. I marched to the house without looking back. Looking back was pointless. Standing still wasn’t an option either. Life was now rushing forward at a terrifying pace and I had a terrible feeling that Adam wasn’t going to be able to keep up.

  January 3

  Adam

  Going for a run that morning was less about exercise and more about punishing myself. I figured I deserved a little pain at that point.

  The topic of returning to New York hadn’t rated a mention since the night before, which proved something that I already knew. It wasn’t something Charli was looking forward to. It was something she was going to go through with because she felt it was the only option she had.

  If I were a good man, or even a slightly better man, I would’ve talked her out of it. But I’m not particularly good. I loved her. It was the only excuse I came up with for being so unreasonable.

  The base of the cliffs put a stop to my run. I literally ran out of beach. As I turned to head back I noticed Nicole coming down the beach toward me. She saw me too – and hightailed it up the trail to the parking lot. I called out and she stopped, but didn’t turn back.

  “Are you avoiding me, Nic?” I asked, jogging toward her.

  “Maybe,” she confessed. “You’re supposed to hate me.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I’ve been warned not to talk to you.”

  “Look, Adam,” she could hardly look at me, “I don’t want to cause any problems.”

  “You don’t have that kind of power, Nicole.”

  “I owe you a lot of money,” she said regretfully.

  “I’d settle for an apology.”

  Finally she glanced my way. “I am sorry. Things just got out of hand. I’ve tried to talk to Charli but she’s not interested in anything I’ve got to say.”

  “Can you blame her? It was a terrible thing to do.”

  “I know.” Her frown was one of total agony. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

  “Maybe you could put in a good word for me?”

  I had no intention of doing any such thing. “Just give her a bit of time. She never sold you out. I think that counts for something,” I told her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She never sold you out. Charli never told anyone that you stole her money. She could’ve destroyed you, Nicole. But she didn’t.”

  She looked surprised and I wondered if I’d given her too much information.

  I didn’t hate Nicole for what she’d done, but I wasn’t going to put in a good word for her with Charli, either. We had enough on our plates without throwing Nicole Lawson into the mix.

  I made an excuse to leave and left her on the beach, accompanied by the knowledge that Charli was ten times the woman she’d ever be.

  * * *

  I arrived home to an empty house. I had no idea where Charli was and, true to form, she’d left no note telling me.

  It shouldn’t have worried me. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before, but this time felt different. Everything was beginning to feel different. We were back to hanging on by a thread. I hated the shift between us – and more tellingly, I resented the reason behind it.

  When she did finally walk through the door a couple of hours later, I made it my mission to let her know exactly how much I loved her. It was pretty much the only truth we had left. I pulled her into my arms the second she was in reach and kissed her, really kissed her.

  “What was that for?” she asked wriggling free.

  “Because I love you.” She walked further into the room and dropped her purse on the couch, leaving me hanging. “Where have you been?”

  “I went to the doctor.”

  “Without me?”

  She answered with a small nod.

  “What did he say?”

  “I’m ten weeks pregnant,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m due on August first.”

  I slumped on the couch. My head was spinning. “Ten weeks? We still have options then.”

  It was something I shouldn’t have sai
d out loud – or at least worded better. My career as an insensitive asshole was an accomplished one.

  January 6

  Charli

  The next few days were fairly miserable for us. Whenever our lives started going haywire, dishonesty crept in. It was our thing.

  I kept Adam in the dark about everything I was feeling on the off-chance he got brave and returned the favour. As a result, we were hardly talking. It was an absolute waste of the short amount of time we had together.

  He killed time hanging out with Alex. Bogan-golf, surfing and playing in the shed kept him away from me for hours at a time. I suspect that was because the man who who’d mastered three languages was incapable of putting his feelings into words when it came to dealing with me.

  I was putting more and more thought into the idea of having a baby. The joyful part of me imagined a cute, perfect child with her father’s good looks. The old-fashioned part of me imagined a happy nuclear family far different from anything I’d ever known. The realistic part of me foresaw a much bleaker picture. Living in New York was no guarantee that I’d get my happy family. New York Adam could be a selfish jerk. I wasn’t naïve enough to think a baby was going to make him change his ways, especially knowing he didn’t want it in the first place.

  I decided to take a shot at changing his mind.

  Thanks to our recent grocery run, I was able to put together a decent meal. Adam arrived home just after six, and for a fleeting moment it was just like old times.

  “Hey.” He leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “How are you feeling?”

  I’d heard that question a few times lately. It was his way of gauging my mood, not my physical state. “I’m good. I cooked dinner.”

  He lifted the lid on the pan, perhaps doubting me. It was the first meal I’d cooked since he’d been there.

  “Looks good.”

  I shrugged, confident that the dish was at least edible. “I was hoping we could talk.” My voice was unfairly small. I wanted to demand that we talk. I should’ve screamed it at him.

  “Me too,” he replied, just as weakly.

  Dinner was almost done before the baby rated a mention, and it was left to me to bring it up. “I want to know what you want to do.”