Virgin

by Georgia Le Carre

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. But it is urgent that both your husband and you attend his surgery immediately.’

  ‘What’s wrong with my baby?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs. Pilkington, but I am just passing on a message. I have two appointment slots available.’

  ‘Give me the first one.’

  ‘Can you make it at two o’clock today?’

  I swallow. Today! They want me to come in today! Shit! How urgent is this situation? I feel cold inside. ‘Yes. My husband is busy all day. Can I come alone?’

  ‘I’m afraid you have to come with your husband,’ she insists.

  ‘All right, we’ll come in together.’ My voice is a scared, foreign whisper.

  ‘Good. I’ll book you in.’

  I don’t run straight away to tell BJ. No, no, I won’t frighten him unnecessarily. Suddenly I feel protective of him. He is so big and powerful, but I know that, on the inside, he would suffer far more than me. Mentally and emotionally, I am the stronger one. I will not show him my fear. Maybe it is nothing. Or maybe it is just a little thing.

  She had sounded so serious though.

  I touch my belly. Whatever it is, we will see it through. I walk into the kitchen and look around me. Everything looks the same. But it’s as bewildering as a dream landscape. Perhaps I am still asleep. I blink and take a large breath. My hand flies up to my mouth to shut off the scream that wants to escape.

  I walk to the island and I have the distinct sensation of weightlessness, as if I can float away like a helium balloon. I grab hold of the edge of the granite counter. I am gripping it so hard my knuckles show white. I stare at them with fascination. I am in such a state of shock I can’t actually think. My mind is a complete blank. I take another deep breath and exhale noisily. It could be a mistake. That must be it. It happens all the time. I cling to the thought.

  ‘It’s most probably a mistake,’ I whisper to myself.

  I walk to the phone and dial Jake’s number. He’s always solved all my problems for me. I listen to the blurred sound of the rings in a daze. I terminate the call at the third ring and put the phone back down on the table. It’s silly to call him. I’ll call him when I know more.

  ‘Oh God!’

  Did they detect an abnormality during the scan? I wrap my arms around my stomach. Tears gather in my eyes and spill down my cheeks. ‘I love you. I don’t care if you are disabled or anything. I’m here for you. You chose me and I chose you. No matter what, you are coming into this fucked up world.’

  A smile comes to my face.

  ‘You’re coming into this family, boy,’ I say fiercely. Strange how loud and strong my voice has become. ‘Nothing. Nothing is going to stop you from being born. I’ll protect you with my dying breath,’ I promise.

  I go to the mirror and wipe my eyes. I smile at my reflection.

  ‘Are you with me?’ the melodious voice of Lost Frequencies asks.

  Yeah, I’m with you. I’m your mother. I’ll always be with you no matter what. Come, let’s go tell Daddy that you are super special.’

  I walk along the corridor and stop in front of the gym. I pause and compose myself. When I open the door, BJ turns to look at me. His face is instantly concerned. I never disturb him while he is training. He puts the dumb bells he is working with down.

  ‘What’s up?’

  I start walking towards him and immediately his large strides eat the distance between us and he envelops me in his arms.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks with a frown.

  I attempt to smile, but from the expression on his face, I don’t think I pull it off. ‘The hospital called. There might be something wrong with our …,’ I take a deep breath and, though I try to hold the tears back, my eyes fill up, ‘…baby.’

  ‘What?’ He stares at me, his eyes wide and blank with horror.

  I start to babble, the words hurried and stumbling over each other. ‘It’s all right. I think I’m all right with it. He’s come to the right home. You and I will love him more than any other mummy or daddy, right?’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ he asks. He is white under his tan and he is staring at me as if he has never looked at me properly before.

  The tears start running freely down my face. ‘There’s something wrong with our baby.’

  ‘No,’ he snarls and pulls me into his arms. He holds me so tight I make a strangled sound. He lets go of me instantly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ he whispers.

  ‘You didn’t.’

  He stares at me in shock and disbelief. ‘Could they have made a mistake?’

  You cannot imagine how much hope that hopeless question gives me. I throw my arms around him and hug him tightly. ‘I was thinking exactly the same thing.’

  We hold each other for I don’t know how long. Both unwilling to look the other in the eye, and stop pretending that it is all a huge mistake. Eventually, I know it will have to be me. I know that this tiny little life is mine to steer. I pull away.

  ‘I was counting back the other day and I know we conceived him on our very first night together. Whether they are wrong or right, we’re having this baby, right? He chose us to be his parents, right?’ I sniff.

  He pulls me close to him and groans, ‘Oh, Layla. Of course, we are. He’s ours no matter what.’

  We drive to the doctor’s in complete silence, both of us terrified of what awaits us at the hospital. A nurse shows us to Dr. Freedman’s office. We walk into his room hand-in-hand behind her. Dr. Freedman is a tall, bespectacled man. He looks up and smiles tightly. He is ill at ease.

  ‘Mr. and Mrs. Pilkington. Please, have a seat,’ he says politely indicating a set of blue chairs opposite him and letting his eyes slide away to some papers on his desk.

  It is a surreal moment. I don’t fear. I know in my DNA that, no matter what, I will protect my baby. I’m so aware of this moment that I can actually feel and experience everything. I sense the doctor’s discomfort. I feel BJ’s fear seeping out of his pores like something alive and tangible. I hear the faint sounds of people walking down the corridor. For them, it’s a normal day. But for me, I can taste the disinfectant that the doctor used after the patient before us.

  I can do this. I sit down and turn my head to watch BJ take the seat next to me. It hits me that this is a much bigger deal for him. I am clear in my head. No one. No one. No one can shake me. I turn to face the doctor.

  The doctor’s eyes are weary. He has done this too many times and is clearly dreading the task at hand. I smell his abhorrence of what he is about to say. Wordlessly, he pushes a box of tissues towards me.

  I frown and look at BJ. His beautiful mouth opens and closes. And we realize that something is not just wrong. It is horribly wrong. It is worse, far worse than what I have imagined. Oh no.

  NO. NO. NO

  My darling BJ. So powerful and yet at this moment, felled. I reach my hand out and he envelops it in his own. I smile at him. He does not smile back.

  ‘What’s wrong with my baby?’ I ask.

  Dr. Freedman coughs and clears his throat. Behind him, I can see a poster of a skinless human body with all its veins showing.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with your baby,’ he says. ‘It’s you.’ He says this gently and neutrally, but the room swings wildly.

  TWENTY-TWO

  LAYLA

  “There’s no easy way to say this. The ultrasound you had on the 15th showed that you either have endometrial cancer or hyperplasia that will likely rapidly progress to cancer. I’m so sorry.’

  The unexpectedness of what he says is so great that I don’t react at all. I feel myself go blank and numb. The big C? Me? Impossible. I’m born under a lucky star. I’ve been so spoilt. So sheltered. So fortunate. It’s just not possible.

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about? Can you fucking talk English?’ BJ erupts aggressively.

  Dr. Freedman shifts uncomfortably in his chair. It’s obvious that he is not used to being s
poken to so rudely. It is only BJ’s size or pity that keeps him for retaliating. ‘Your wife has a large mass in her uterus. It surrounds the baby on the top and sides. The rapid growth from total absence at the dating scan to what it was yesterday, makes me strongly suspect that it is certainly malignant and aggressively so. You should have been told at the ultrasound session yesterday, but the sonographer wanted to run the scans by me before making such a drastic diagnosis.’

  ‘You’re saying my wife has cancer?’ BJ asks in disbelief.

  ‘Yes.’

  BJ jumps up so suddenly and with such force that his chair crashes to the ground. He slams his hand on the desk, his black eyes boring into the doctor’s, and shouts, ‘No, this a fucking mistake. How do you know the test results haven’t been mislabeled? You do those fucking tests again.’

  ‘Please, Mr. Pilkington. Sit down and calm down. This outburst is not going to help your wife.’

  I reach out blindly for BJ’s hand. His hand closes over mine. I look up at him. ‘Please, BJ,’ I whisper. For a second he doesn’t respond. ‘Please,’ I beg again.

  He picks the chair off the floor, rights it, and sits down. I notice that his hands are shaking. He fists his right hand and covers it with his left hand.

  ‘The treatment for cancer and hyperplasia to the extent I saw on the ultrasound,’ the doctor continues, ‘is immediate hysterectomy to stage and figure out the prognosis.’

  ‘A hysterectomy?’ I gasp.

  The doctor shifts uncomfortably. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘You want to take her womb out?’ BJ repeats in disbelief. ‘What the fuck! She’s 23 years old, for the love of God!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the doctor says lamely.

  BJ lunges forward suddenly. ‘If you say you’re sorry one more fucking time, I swear, I’ll give you something to be sorry about. This is a mistake, pure and simple.’

  The doctor’s eyes bulge with fear. He leans backwards and places his hands on the armrests of his chair, as if he is getting ready to bolt. ‘I know you are very upset, but I have personally gone through all the results and I can assure you, Mr. Pilkington, that there is no mistake.’

  I glance at BJ and I see by his crushed expression that he knows the doctor is telling the truth. BJ has used violence to solve every problem in his life. He has never encountered a scenario that he couldn’t win using brute force alone. But for the first time his fists are of no use. He is totally helpless. And it scares him.

  ‘Is there another way? A way to save the baby?’ I whisper.

  ‘I’m very sor—.’ The doctor stops mid-word and glances nervously at BJ. ‘I’m afraid there is no way to save your baby. I must recommend immediate termination of the pregnancy.’

  ‘What happens if I don’t do anything?’

  BJ has fallen eerily silent. He is cradling his head in his hands.

  The doctor frowns. ‘First of all you will be greatly endangering your own life. It’s not a risk that’s worth taking since the lack of room will mean your placenta will be on your cervix. With the weight of the baby and the tumor, you would be at a high risk for a placental abruption.’

  I exhale the breath I was holding. ‘What is that?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s when the placenta peels away from the inner wall of the uterus before delivery. It deprives the baby of oxygen and causes heavy bleeding in the mother. It can be fatal to both mother and child.’

  ‘I still want a second opinion,’ BJ says with a deadly calm that’s more frightening than his furious outburst before.

  The doctor nods calmly. ‘I have already arranged for your wife to see the head of OB and a maternal fetal specialist at 9:00 the day after tomorrow. They’ll do another ultrasound with better equipment and they will also perform an ultrasound biopsy.’

  ‘Is the ultrasound biopsy safe for my baby?’ I ask.

  The doctor looks pained. ‘They will be able to stay away from the baby and the sac, but the chances for a spontaneous miscarriage afterwards exist. I would recommend an immediate termination.’

  I stand up abruptly. ‘All right. Thank you, doctor,’ I say, and look down at BJ.

  He gazes up at me. He looks so confused and lost I want to take him to my breast. He stands slowly. It’s obvious he is not ready to leave, as if discussing it further could change anything.

  We walk out of the doctor’s office and cross the car park like two survivors of a war. Hanging on to each other. Seeing nothing around us. Shell-shocked. Devastated. BJ unlocks the car and opens the passenger door for me. I slide into the seat in silence. He gets in, closes the door, and puts the keys in the ignition, but does not start the engine.

  I turn to him. He looks as dazed and bewildered as the moths that fly into light bulbs and fall to the floor, lying on their backs, they slowly wheel their legs into the arms of death.

  ‘Can you believe it?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, baby,’ he croaks. ‘I think I just need to hold you for a second.’

  I throw myself at him and sob my heart out in the bleak hospital car park.

  We drive home in heavy silence, both of us locked in our own pain. When we reach our home, I stare ahead of me blankly. I simply cannot summon the energy to open the car door and go into the house.

  He opens my door and holds his hand out to me. With a sigh I put my hand in his and let him haul me upright.

  Mrs. Roberts from next door meets us on the pavement.

  ‘Are you all right, dear?’

  I nod automatically. ‘Thank you. Yes.’

  She stares at us with a baffled expression as BJ helps me up the steps. He opens the door and we enter our silent home.

  ‘Do you want to lie down for a bit, babe?’ he asks me.

  I nod. ‘Yes, that’s a good idea. But can I have a glass of water first?’

  ‘Of course.’ He seems glad to be of use. I watch him stride away towards the kitchen. Thank god it is Nora’s, my housekeeper, day off. I couldn’t bear to see anyone else. BJ comes back with a glass of water and I drink it all and give him the empty glass. He puts it on the nearest surface and comes back to me.

  We climb the stairs together. When we reach the bed a great exhaustion swamps me and I sit heavily on the mattress. He crouches down and gently takes my shoes off. I look down at him, at the way his luxurious eyelashes sweep down to his cheeks, and a crazy, totally inappropriate thought pops into my head. I want to have sex with him. For a second there is intense guilt and then the consoling thought. It’s not crazy. It’s just instinct. My body has no intellect of its own. Every time it’s near him, it just wants to copulate.

  I close my eyes and let the instinct slink away in shame. Tenderly he kisses my palms and closed eyelids. Then he stands up and I lie down. Quietly, he covers my body with the duvet.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  He nods gravely, draws the curtains closed and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. I hear him hesitate outside the door, then take a few steps, stop, come back to the door. But, after a pause, he goes downstairs.

  I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling in disbelief. My mind turns round and round desperately, like a rat in cage, trying to find a way out. There must be another way. Slowly my hands cup my belly. I hear BJ climb the stairs. I put my hands down and turn to my side, facing away from the door, and close my eyes.

  He comes in and stands over me.

  He knows I am awake. I feel him sit on the bed. ‘I love you, Layla. Whatever happens I love only you. You’re my life. Without you nothing else matters.’ His voice breaks, but I don’t open my eyes. Tears slip out of my closed eyelids.

  ‘I’m going out now. There are things I need to sort out, but I’ll be back in an hour. Just rest, OK?’

  He kisses my head and then I hear his footsteps run down the stairs. I know then that he has made his decision, and he can live it. And now he is doing everything in his power to facilitate that decision. I wait until I hear the front door close before I get up. I walk out of our bedroom and
turn right, heading to the nursery.

  I open the door, seeing the cot that Lily and I bought, and the full horror of my situation hits me. My knees give way and I slump to the ground outside my baby’s room. My arms pull tight across my body, as if I am cold. I realize that I am actually in a strange, dreaming state. It feels as if my heartbeat has slowed down.

  In that oddly still moment, I remember my mother taking me to a tarot reader as a small child. As if it had happened yesterday, I clearly and distinctly remember her telling my mother, ‘I cannot read her cards now, Mara. Her destiny is special. A great sacrifice will be asked of her. If I am still alive then, I will read her cards for her.’

  Even as a small girl I had picked up her sense of unease and dread, reverberating on a level beyond language, beyond what is cognitive. I didn’t even need to understand her to feel it.

  ‘What do you mean?’ my ma had asked.

  But she would say no more.

  I stumble down the stairs and find my purse. I root around in it with trembling hands and find my mobile phone. Taking a deep breath, I call my mother.

  ‘Ma,’ I say into the phone. It is shocking how level and even I manage to keep my voice. A few hours ago, I wouldn’t have understood how anyone could appear unmoved when they are dying inside. Now I know. The cold, hard part of me has detached itself enough to be able to function without the rest of me. Appearing unmoved is the price you pay for being able to speak at all.

  ‘Ah, I was just about to call you,’ my mother says cheerfully.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m in a shop and I’ve seen the cutest little coats you’ve ever seen. I’m getting a pink one for our Liliana. Shall I get a blue one for Tommy as well?’

  It is like a body blow. The only way to deal with it is talk about something crazy. ‘Why are you calling him Tommy, Ma?’

  ‘BJ told me that both of you had decided on that name.’

  An involuntary smile escapes my stiff features. Oh, BJ. How sly you are.

  ‘Have you changed your mind then?’ my mother asks.

  ‘No. No, we haven’t. We are going with Tommy. Yeah, get the blue coat for him,’ I tell her.