by Lucy Arthurs
Bullshit.
ME
They told me. Came up to me and volunteered it.
PATRICK
Who?
ME
As if I wanted to know their names. And Anna said there were more.
PATRICK
Anna?
ME
Have you slept with her too?
PATRICK
No!
ME
Really?
PATRICK
Only once.
We are having our first fight. Take a big, deep breath, Persephone. A big, big, deep breath! At least Anna’s decent.
ME
I’m not a prude, Patrick. I wasn’t always married, you know. I’ve got a “history” too but it’s just . . . I don’t want to feel like sex is as impersonal as brushing your teeth or scratching an itch or . . .
PATRICK
Of course it isn’t!
ME
I’m not a princess and I’m not being precious . . .
PATRICK
Could have fooled me.
ME
But I want to feel that sex and intimacy and our . . . connection has some sort of . . . meaning. That it’s special in some way.
I continue with my treatise on all things sexual. If he’s going to reject me at least let him reject me for who I am rather than who I’m trying to be. I’m a dag, I’m a bit old-fashioned, I’m borderline part-Amish and occasionally part-bogan, but I don’t want to be treated like a number and I don’t want to be patronised with half-truths and feel like I’m dating a guy with a very faulty moral compass who has pissed on every pole this side of the Black Stump!
ME
I have a child, Patrick. I’m not just some young thing sleeping around. I need to know that I’m safe.
Marjory would be so proud of me right now. It doesn’t matter that Patrick’s perplexed, it matters that I’m speaking my truth. That I’m honouring my “self”. Even if I sound like a doctor or a shrink or a . . . wanker.
ME
I haven’t dated since I was twenty-two years old. It was an innocent time back then. People are different now.
PATRICK
We’re older.
ME
It’s more than that. There’s some kind of . . . I don’t know . . . societal difference or something. There’s a hardness, an impersonal thing that’s going on. I don’t know if it’s because of the Internet or social media or . . .
He scoffs at me.
ME
I’m serious. Or family breakdowns or whatever, but . . . it’s like someone told Gen X they could have it all and they’re pigging out at the smorgasbord. People talk about sex now like it’s a commodity or something. A means of exchange. Threesomes, hooking up on Tinder, boy on boy, girl on girl, girl on boy with girl, porn, cocaine this, and ecstasy that. They’re all mainstream, completely normalised. I’m not used to it.
PATRICK
Didn’t you have sex when you were married?
ME
Not much. Not at all since Jack was born, actually.
I’ve clearly taken some kind of truth serum tonight.
PATRICK
Shit. Maybe your ex is gay.
ME
I don’t think so.
PATRICK
Look, I’ll sleep at my place. See you at the weekend.
ME
Maybe.
PATRICK
What’s that supposed to mean?
ME
Patrick, whatever this is between us, I need honesty.
He leaves the house and as I hear his car back out over the gravel I roll over, snuggle into my feather-soft doona and realise that if this is the end of this thing with Patrick, I’m actually okay with that. My life with Jack is way more important than exposing myself to things I can’t handle with some guy I hardly know. In a roundabout kind of way, I ended up getting what I wanted tonight—a chance to snuggle up with myself.
Chapter 24
The following Monday. The theatre. Tech Week.
“Do not plan for ventures before finishing what’s at hand.” Euripides.
I’m sitting in the darkened theatre during Tech Week. The play has been bumped into the theatre from the rehearsal room in preparation for opening night and the start of the play’s season. The lights have been rigged, focused and plotted, the full costumes and make-up are about to be added, and the band is in the room. All the elements are coming together. Tech Week can be a tedious time but this one is running pretty smoothly thanks to Ramona, the grumpy stage manager, and that very tight ship she likes to run.
I’ve crept out from the dressing room to sit in the auditorium and look at the set while the crew take a moment to deal with a lighting issue. Then we’ll do a cue-to-cue rehearsal of the show so they can iron out any last minute technical issues. The set looks great. The crew continue to struggle with the light. I hug my knees to my chest, snuggle into myself, and contemplate Patrick.
I’m “in love” with him, but do I “love” him? He said it last night. He called in with a bunch of flowers. He was sorry he’d been so defensive about the twenty questions thing and I was sorry I’d seemingly overreacted. I can live with “more than ten but definitely less than twenty.” Jack was asleep in his room and Patrick and I were having a cup of tea on the couch. Patrick was nervous and fidgety and then he said it.
PATRICK
I love you.
Awkward pause.
ME
Thank you.
A very perplexed look appeared on his face.
PATRICK
Thank you? I expected a bit more than that.
ME
Sorry, but I do mean it.
PATRICK
Thank you?
ME
Yes, I’m glad you feel that way.
PATRICK
Do you?
ME
I don’t know.
PATRICK
(Deflated)
Great.
ME
Patrick, I don’t want to say it just for the sake of it.
PATRICK
Neither do I.
ME
I’m not saying you are.
PATRICK
I love you. I really do.
ME
Thank you.
PATRICK
Will you stop saying that?
ME
I’m sorry. I know I like you. I know I’m definitely “in love” with you, but I just don’t know if I can say “I love you” right now.
PATRICK
Well, let me know when you can.
ME
I will.
We sit in awkward silence for a moment. A moment that feels much longer than a moment.
PATRICK
We’re building something here, aren’t we? You’ve pulled back a bit but I don’t want to. I get along great with Jack. He’s a fantastic kid. And I love you. I can be a bit thick sometimes about women and emotions and all that, but . . . look, you might need to give me a shove in the right direction occasionally, but I’m into it.
ME
Thank you.
PATRICK
I’m here when you’re ready to say it.
And now here I am, sitting in the auditorium watching the crew struggling with a light and feeling out of sorts. Not just about the “I love you” thing. I’m tired, I’m not sleeping, I’m off my food and I’ve had two bouts of diarrhoea. Could just be nerves, but I also have sore boobs. The symptoms are very familiar. I think I might be pregnant.
I stopped in at the chemist on the w
ay to rehearsal this morning and bought a test, but I can’t bring myself to do it. My life is complicated enough without an unexpected pregnancy.
RAMONA
Okay. Take ten minutes while we re-focus this light. Don’t wander off! When I say ten minutes, I mean ten minutes.
ME
Yes, sir!
I click my heels together and salute. She doesn’t find it funny. Gird your loins, Persephone. Ten minutes is more than enough time to do the test. This break is a sign.
I race to the toilet, taking my handbag with me. I whip the stick out of the packaging and hold it between my legs as I sit on the toilet. I pee on my hand as I try to get a mid-stream sample. Then I pull up my undies, flush the toilet, sit on the closed toilet lid—and wait.
I close my eyes and wait. I tell myself that if I watch the stick the answer will definitely be positive but if I look away, it will definitely be negative. But this is just confusing because I’m not sure which one I want. I opt for closing my eyes. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids and would love to have more than just Jack. And I think I might even want to have children with Patrick, one day, but it’s all happening too quickly.
ME
I’m pregnant!
I say it out loud. Then I poke my head under the cubicle door to check if anyone is in the ladies’ room. Can’t see anyone.
Shit. I’m a crazy mix of elated and terrified. This was not part of the plan. Who are you kidding, Persephone? There never was a plan. You’re winging it, sweetheart.
I check the stick again. Two pink lines. Oh. My. God. I might not be a hundred percent sure how I feel about Patrick, yet these two pink lines are telling me I’ve made a human being with him! My doubts are overridden by my excitement about the pregnancy. Regardless of how our relationship pans out, I’m having a baby!
The main door to the ladies’ room barges open. Ramona barks.
RAMONA
Are you in here, Persephone? I said ten minutes and I meant ten minutes.
I stammer.
ME
Ah, yes. Sorry. Not feeling very well. I’ll be out in a minute.
RAMONA
That’s sixty seconds. Not a second more.
I breathe out as she leaves and retrieve my mobile from my handbag. I call Patrick. From the toilet cubicle. How romantic.
PATRICK
G’day.
ME
I’m pregnant.
PATRICK
Wow!
ME
I just did a test.
PATRICK
That’s great. Unexpected, but great!
ME
It is, isn’t it?
PATRICK
Hell, yes! This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
ME
You’re not shocked?
PATRICK
Surprised, yeah. But not shocked. This is bloody fantastic!
He starts to cry on the other end of the phone.
PATRICK
I love you, Pers. I’m over the moon.
ME
Really?
PATRICK
Absolutely.
Maybe I do love this guy. He’s like no man I’ve ever met. He’s the opposite of the type of man I thought I’d end up with. Patrick’s an out-of-the-box choice for me. But as a person he’s, he’s . . . uncomplicated. I’m so bloody multi-layered I’m like an overly rich cheesecake that you can’t quite keep down. He tells me all the time I’m like dating a walking dictionary, except I’m hot. Dictionaries aren’t hot apparently. He’s very impressed that I can do the crossword in the newspaper. I tell him it’s not that hard, but he doesn’t believe me. He thinks it’s weird how I talk about emotions and feelings all the time, but he freely admits he’s starting to learn things about himself. And he’s currently crying on the other end of the phone because I’ve just told him I’m pregnant. I was with Tom for a decade and I never saw him cry. He was one of those clay pans you read about. The thick crust that develops on paddocks when there hasn’t been enough rain. Patrick is the opposite. The loose, fertile, volcanic soil that nurtures and sustains life. Oh my God, I think pregnancy brain is already kicking in.
PATRICK
This is so brilliant. I’m gonna be a father. We’re gonna have a family, Pers. God, I love you.
Pause.
PATRICK
But there’s only one problem.
ME
What’s that?
PATRICK
You’re having a baby with a guy you don’t love.
ME
Ha ha.
He’s teasing me, but there’s an element of truth and he knows it. We both do.
I could say it, I really could. I love you too. That’s all it would take. But I don’t want to say it just because I’m caught up in a romantic moment. Or because I feel I should. I want to say it because I one hundred percent mean it. I think I’m currently at about eighty-five percent and maybe twenty percent of that is due to the current excitement associated with finding out I’m having a baby.
PATRICK
You’ll say it one day.
ME
Sorry, I’ve gotta go. I’m sure I’ve used up my sixty seconds.
PATRICK
What?
ME
Oh . . .
PATRICK
I’m definitely seeing you tonight. Love you, Pers. Bye, sweetheart.
I hang up. And just before Ramona barges into the ladies’ room again, I drop the positive test in the bin, grab my bag, wash my hands and think to myself, maybe it’s all going to be okay after all. As long as the morning sickness stays away until the show has opened, I’ll be fine.
That night we discuss who to tell, when to tell them and how to tell them. We decide Jack needs to be the first to know, of course. We figure he already suspects that something’s up because Patrick has called by with a bunch of flowers.
He takes it all in his stride.
ME
Sweetheart. Patrick and I have something to tell you. It’s pretty big.
JACK
Are we going to Disneyland?!
PATRICK
Not yet, mate. Maybe one day.
ME
No. It’s about something more . . . personal. You know how I’ve been feeling a bit sick and tired lately?
JACK
Are you going to die?!
ME
Of course not! No! Jacky, no! I’m going to have a baby.
JACK
Cool!
ME
Really?
JACK
Yeah! I can play with him.
We go through all the basics, covering how long it will take for the baby to grow, we remind him that mummy will feel sick and we need to take things slowly, and we generally prepare him for his role as older brother. But Jack’s most pressing question is how it’s going to come out.
ME
Well, it’s growing in my tummy, sweetheart and it’s going to come out . . . down below.
He thinks for a moment.
JACK
Through your pee-pee?
ME
Correct.
JACK
Ow!
He moves on from this issue very quickly. It seems he’d rather talk about the gender of the baby. Jack’s adamant it’s going to be a boy. It seems he and Patrick are in cahoots.
JACK
Let’s call him Mr. Poo Poo Head.
PATRICK
How about Christopher?
JACK
How about Captain Hook?
ME
You don’t
like Christopher?
JACK
I like Captain Hook from Peter Pan.
ME
What if it’s a girl?
PATRICK
It’s a boy.
JACK
Yes, it’s a boy. Are you going to get married?
Awkward pause.
I have to get divorced first.
ME
You don’t have to be married to have a baby.
JACK
But are you?
PATRICK
I’d like to, mate.
JACK
Mummy?
ME
Right now, I’m excited about having a baby.
Another awkward pause.
JACK
Will you like the baby more than me?
Deep breath.
ME
That’s not possible. I’ll love you both the same. Heaps and heaps and heaps.
It’s just been Jack and me for so long. Yes, Tom was there, but he was always busy, always working. Jack and I have been a tight unit and now that has changed very quickly for him. He’s had so much to cope with already, and now a baby. I’d braced myself for him to fall apart about it all, but he seems genuinely thrilled.
JACK
Will Patrick be the baby’s daddy?
PATRICK
Yes, mate.
JACK
Will you be my daddy too, or do I just keep my old daddy?
ME
Daddy will always be your dad, darling. Patrick will be the baby’s dad.
JACK
Cool. And Patrick can be my friend.
PATRICK
Perfect.
A light bulb flicks on over his head.
JACK
I’m going to make him a card!
Jack races off to his craft table and we ring my parents. They are over the moon. No dramas about whether or not we know each other well enough, or how we’re going to manage it all. They’re just genuinely thrilled that another life is coming into the world. They are the sort of people who just love babies. They don’t question if it’s right or wrong to have them, they just accept that they’re meant to be here and recognise that they need lots of love.
Then I broach the subject of Patrick’s family.
