by A. E. Murphy
Nathan is nowhere in sight when I leave, I’m glad for this. I’m not sure how to react to him right now. The guy has issues I don’t want to deal with. You’d think he’d be a little more sympathetic towards me right now. You’d think he’d be a bit more emotional too. Caleb was his brother and yet he shows no signs of grief. He shows no signs of any emotion whatsoever, I’ve never met a more robotic person in my life.
Why is part of me screaming to be grateful? He’s messing up his privacy, his home just to accommodate me and my baby.
But another part of me is saying he should, it’s his niece of nephew in my stomach. He should make sure he or she has everything that his brother would’ve given. Well, not everything, but he should help.
It still doesn’t dismiss his demeanour towards me.
“Be patient,” Jeanine tells me as we pull up to the curb after a long and quiet ride here. “He’ll calm, he’s just not used to company.”
“What do you mean by that?” I mean, it’s obvious she means he lives alone but I can’t help but feel that there’s more meaning to her statement.
“Would you like me to come in with you?” Ah, a subject changer, she must be sworn to secrecy because Jeanine doesn’t come across as the type who likes secrets.
I shake my head, “No, it wouldn’t feel right. It was our thing… you know?”
She gives my hand a squeeze and nods, her eyes misting over with understanding, “I know pet.”
The doctor sees me immediately, he informs me his name is Dr Meadow and he’ll be delivering my child privately. So I’m guessing I’m not getting baby care on the NHS. What the hell is wrong with Nathan? What’s wrong with the NHS?
He does an ultrasound to see how far along I am even though I already told him two seconds ago. I find no enjoyment in this, I hardly look and refuse to know the sex of it yet. It was for Caleb and I to discover together, it doesn’t feel right doing this on my own. He takes far more measurements than the people back at home did, which concerns me. He assures me it’s so he can monitor every single aspect of my pregnancy from now until the end.
Apparently I’m perfectly healthy as far as he can tell and my baby is going to be a big one, he wants to take my bloods to test me for diabetes and other illnesses. Mainly diabetes because apparently people with diabetes have large babies.
This makes me want to slap him even if he is being nice about it. I’m large, pregnant and hormonal and I don’t need a doctor telling me I shouldn’t be so large.
Fortunately I haven’t put much weight on anywhere else, my breasts are massive and I hope they never deflate. The rest of me however is still a good size.
I also tell him to give me a list of all the foods I can’t eat so I can prove to Nathan that he’s being unreasonable, then I come to the conclusion that all I have to do is get up earlier than him and raid his fridge. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt.
It’s when the doctor tells me he’ll be putting me in to see somebody that I decide I want to leave and I want to leave now. A therapist to be exact. He thinks I need to talk to someone about what happened or there’s a possibility I won’t bond with the baby at birth. Finding your lover dead is… according to him… a terrible tragedy that needs dealing with appropriately. I disagree. Sure it’s a terrible tragedy but I believe it needs leaving where it belongs. Locked away until my last breath. I’m not ready to rehash the tale and I’m not sure I ever will be.
So far since he died that’s all I’ve thought about, is the fact he’s gone. I haven’t thought about the night in question, I’m secretly praying I’ll suppress it forever because if I even get a glimpse of his lifeless body lying on our bed ever again, I’ll die inside and I’ll never be revivable.
He assures me that I’m at a higher risk of post-natal depression due to the events and he’s concerned for my mental state when the baby is born. Which is a ridiculous notion because it’s half of Caleb, if anything I’ll love him or her even more than I would have done if Caleb was beside me. So I refuse the help and thank him anyway.
Nathan is on time which I like, I’m never late for anything. Caleb used to joke and say I’d probably go into labour exactly at midnight on my due date. The funny thing is, I don’t disagree with him. I don’t think I’ve ever been late for anything in my life. Poor time keeping is not a good trait to have.
I don’t say hi as I climb into the car. He looks ticked off that I don’t wait for him to help me in but who cares? Not me.
I place the scan picture in my bag and tilt my seat back a little.
“I took all of your things inside,” he says. “I apologize for not doing it sooner.”
“Thanks.”
He spares me a glance, “Did your appointment go well?”
“Isn’t the private doctor just going to call and inform you of the developments later?”
He sighs, “I’m just trying to give you a good level of healthcare so everything goes as smoothly as possible.”
“I’m not complaining,” I admit honestly and look at his profile. “I just think we should have discussed it first.”
His tongue runs along his bottom lip, “Guinevere. Am I okay to assume you’d like private healthcare?”
“If you’re offering then I won’t decline,” I say, wanting to smile but it won’t come.
“Good. So how did it go?” I open my mouth to repeat my earlier statement but he cuts me off. “Contrary to your beliefs I’m big on privacy and I wouldn’t invade yours in such a way. If you don’t feel like telling me then fine, I won’t ask again.”
That’s actually kind of sweet in a strange way. “It went great, he’s checking me for diabetes because apparently people with diabetes have bigger babies but he’s sure I’m fine. I don’t have any of the symptoms.”
“Your baby is too big?”
“He’s guessing it’ll be about nine pounds,” I wince, not wanting to push out something that large.
Nathan’s lips twitch, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile. Well, slightly smile. I wonder if that’s because of grief like me. “Caleb was eight pounds twelve.”
“I didn’t know that. What about you?”
He looks at me in shock but only for a second, as if me being interested in his birth weight is a ridiculous notion. Have I been that much of a bitch?
No.
He’s been just as unapproachable, if not even more so than me.
“I was nine five,” he says this quietly and twists his fists on the wheel.
“Yay. My baby is going to destroy me,” I mumble.
His hand goes to my knee, he gives it a soft squeeze. “You’ll be fine.” Now I’m the one gaping in shock and I’m doing it for a lot longer than a second. Even though his hand only stayed there for a brief and comforting squeeze I still feel his touch linger. What the hell was that?
I’m even more shocked when we don’t go home immediately, we make a stop at a clothing store. He leads me inside and puts me at the mercy of two women with tape measures.
“This one,” he says and points to a row of clothing. “These and these. Have them ready by next Monday and I’ll pick them up by eleven.”
I’m annoyed he’s choosing my clothes but I don’t say anything because I do need new clothes and the ones he’s picked are actually quite nice. Even if they are mostly black and white.
“I’m shocked,” he announces and runs his hands over a row of stretchy denim jeans.
“About?”
“You’re not arguing with me, I thought for sure I’d have a Guinevere induced migraine by now.”
Scowl. “I don’t give you migraines.”
“I’ve never had so many migraines in my life,” I’m about to snap but I realise this is his way of teasing, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen any emotion other than irritation in his eyes. He leads me out of the shop and helps me back into the car, we don’t pull out immediately as he sits, staring ahead aimlessly. I can see he wants to say something, I don’t prompt him; I only
wait. “Look Guinevere. I know this move hasn’t been easy.” You can say that again. “And I know what you’re going through is a grief like none I can imagine.” You can definitely say that again. “I think things have been tense… for both of us and I’d like it if we could try to get along. This stress isn’t good for you and it’s irritating me greatly. My home shouldn’t be a place of war. I want you to feel comfortable.”
“Stop stealing my bacon then.”
He lets out a choked laugh but covers it up with a cough. “If you recall, I gave you bacon this morning but you found the toilet to be greater company than I.”
“For future reference.” I look at his profile, he should smile more often. He doesn’t have any of those little crinkles around his eyes that tell you you’re in the presence of a happy person. Something about this makes my chest ache. Caleb had the lines, he was always smiling. How can his brother seem so different? “And me too, I think it’ll be good if we at least try to tolerate each other,” I say and hold out my hand. “Shake on it?” He stares at my hand like it’s a foreign object. “Oh, right, the no touching of the hands thing. Sorry, I forgot.”
He falls silent for a moment, I see the cogs working in his head as if he’s making a decision. He pulls out onto the street and finally talks, “I don’t like germs.”
“Come again?”
“I have an issue with germs.” He adds when he sees the look of shock on my face, “It’s a real condition.”
I nod slowly, “Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”
“Good. Don’t bring it up, it only aggravates me. Just ignore it.”
I nod, appreciating his honesty and wanting to respect his request. “I won’t mention it.”
He seems to let out a breath but I can’t be sure as I only saw his chest deflate slower than before with no sound to accompany it.
We fall silent once more. This time it’s comfortable.
******
It’s dinner time, I’m starving. After searching the fridge and cupboards I decide on spaghetti. I make a mean spaghetti Bolognese according to friends and it’s been forever since I cooked. Genuinely, I want to go up to my room and bury my head but I need to start taking better care of myself. I’ve lost six pounds putting me one pound under my recommended weight for my height and size. Which in reality means I’m about four pounds underweight because the baby obviously weighs something.
This scares me. Caleb would never let me go more than a few hours without food. He’s done nothing but force me into the kitchen throughout my entire pregnancy. I know if he could cook he would’ve but after a while of trying and failing on so many different dishes, he just started putting me in there and helping in every way he could.
Caleb… just… I…
Sigh.
Nathan went upstairs as soon as we arrived home three hours ago and hasn’t been back since. Maybe he’s hungry. I should make some for him too.
Oooh, I’ll even be able to make some homemade garlic bread. Brilliant.
I tug the apron on, groaning with frustration when it only just reaches around me enough so I can tie the very ends of the strings together, and set about making dinner. I’m one of those people who cleans as I go along so even though what I’m doing is quite messy there isn’t a huge mess left when I’m done.
It smells delicious as it simmers in the pot and even more delicious when the bread begins to rise in the oven. With a glass of juice in my hand I sit on the counter at the corner and stir the simmering Bolognese. My mouth is watering, I’m so hungry.
Once it’s served I set the table and contemplate on whether I should shout for Nathan or go upstairs and knock for him. I don’t want to piss him off by invading his space so I shout for him first. Unfortunately I get no response so I shout again.
I make my way up the stairs and shout once more. He’s either being extremely ignorant or he’s not here.
I’ll just knock on his study door.
“Nathan?” I call and knock on the door. “Nathan? Hello?” My hand clasps the handle, I’m about to push the door open when I change my mind. He could be sleeping at his desk or listening to music in his ears and I don’t want to disturb him, or anger him by invading his space. This is his house, he asked me not to do certain things so I’ll respect that.
I wrap up his plate in foil before placing it in the oven, and pack the leftovers away before putting them in the fridge. I’m mostly doing this just in case Nathan comes down. It’s like I’m delaying so I can eat in his company.
Sitting down at last, I bite into my food and moan. That is so good. I don’t remember when food stopped tasting like ash in my mouth but I’m grateful I have this one joy back in my life. It’s like a tiny bit of colour poking through all of the grey that is my consciousness.
I’m so glad I chose to be a chef.
It’s lonely here. Too lonely.
I decide to call Sasha but she doesn’t answer. I text her telling her I miss her and to keep me updated on everything. She doesn’t text back, I’m guessing she’s busy so it doesn’t upset me too much. Sasha would never purposely ignore me.
At least I have all of my things now. The first thing I do is place a photo of me and Caleb at the beach on my nightstand and then I get to work on the rest.
The best part and the worse part about falling asleep tonight, is falling asleep seeing my fiancées face.
The worst part being that when I wake up, his face is still just a picture.
It’s been two whole days and the only person I’ve spoken to is Sasha. She’s fine, worried about me and my sudden decision to up and leave but she understands. Jeanine has been busy and has said hello and goodbye but that has been the extent of our conversations.
I’m going stir crazy, Nathan is here but he’s keeping out of my way completely. When I wake up breakfast is ready for me, he skips lunch but has eaten every dinner I’ve made and left in the oven. Though I don’t know how he’s avoided me so well. Are there hidden tunnels in this house?
I’m losing it.
I need to get out but the rain and the wind are relentless and I have no car. There’s never anything on the TV, I don’t have a computer and my phone won’t connect to the Wi-Fi so I can’t do much on that.
I feel like camping out in the kitchen and waiting for Nathan to collect his dinner but that would be weird and boring. Also, what would I say to him? “Oh, umm, let’s talk?” We have nothing in common, what would we talk about?
Why’s he ignoring me though?
My boredom has reached new levels. I’m currently sat on the cold wood floor in my bedroom doing a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. The problem is, I can’t reach the top end of it because my belly won’t let me bend that far forward. I have to bum shuffle around it on the ground like a dog.
When the doorbell rings I almost cry with relief even though I know it isn’t for me. I feel like a puppy when its owners come home. In my mind I’m screaming, ‘PEOPLE,’ all the while wagging my tail.
I’m a freak, it’s simple.
I need conversation, I need distraction. If I don’t have it, my mind wanders and I can’t control the direction in which it wanders. Caleb is becoming a more prominent thought in my mind and each day seems to be getting slower and harder. I genuinely thought I was finally in a good place. Not because I’m happy or even content but because I have the strength to keep myself out of bed throughout the day.
Pulling open the door I look at the red haired, plump woman holding up a huge tray of what looks to be lasagne. “I’m a friend of Jeanine’s, she told me there was someone knew in town.” She glances at my belly. “Someone new and pregnant. I couldn’t help but be nosy.”
“Hi,” I say with a nod.
“Oops, I forget my manners sometimes, my names Paula. I live three houses down from here with my two dogs and my husband Michael.” She reaches out to shake my hand. “I brought you lasagne.”
I’m about to take it from her when I feel him right at my back, “Hello Paula.”
>
“Hello, Weston,” she greets him coolly. I’m wondering what’s going on with her calling him by his last name, I don’t ask. “I was just greeting your new lodger here and offering her some of my famous lasagne.”
“How kind,” he says but he sounds far from sincere. “Allow me to take that.”
She passes him the dish, “So, I was thinking that I’ve not seen you out and about.”
“Mrs Harris is always out and about,” he says close to my ear, his warm breath making the strands at the side tickle the back of the shell and I feel my lips twitch. Mostly at his words but also at the ticklish feeling.
She scowls at him but her eyes soften when they come to me, “I wondered if maybe you’d join me tomorrow at noon. We could go for lunch, I’ll take you on a tour around town. I’ve heard you’ve only seen the inside of the doctor’s office and Darla’s Elegance.” The clothing store I assume she means. I didn’t pay attention to the name, I knew it wasn’t a cheap place though.
That would be better than finishing the puzzle I have no interest in. I nudge Nathan with my elbow, he sighs dramatically, “If you want to go then go. You can take my car.”
“That’s okay, I can pick her up.” Even better.
“She’ll not be getting in a car that resembles a lunch box with wheels, it’s not good for the baby,” he says, his voice holding not only an air of authority but and underlining tone that I recognise to be possessive. What’s that about?
