Free-Falling

by Nicola Moriarty

  ‘Belinda! Look! Over there, that’s my dad! You see, right next to my mum! That’s him, in the tie! My dad!’ Oliver had finished his lap of ‘butterfly’ and had just noticed his father arrive in time to see the end of his lesson.

  Belinda did her best to match his enthusiasm. ‘Wow, that’s great, Oliver!’

  ‘Yep. That’s my dad.’

  She tried not to laugh at his serious little face, so full of pride for this man. ‘Maybe I don’t need to give up the teaching just yet. I could last a little longer, just a couple more weeks,’ she thought wistfully to herself.

  An hour later, her last class was reminding her that, yes, she definitely did need to give up teaching right now. They were three brothers, aged ten, eight and seven, and they generally spent the thirty-minute lesson making her life hell. They were constantly taking off from the wall for their lap of freestyle far too close together, so that inevitably one would get kicked in the head and then scream out in an anguished voice, ‘He did that on purpose!’ while the one in front, rife with the injustice of it all, would cry out, ‘But he was swimming too close!’

  ‘Gonna miss it?’ asked another teacher as Belinda headed for the showers, the three brothers somehow miraculously still intact by the end of the class and most likely scheming on how they would torture their new teacher next week. She thought for just a second of Oliver’s angelic little face . . . and then she thought of her hair constantly smelling like chlorine, cold winter nights running to her car in her swimmers to take a proper shower at home, and the devil brothers banging each other over the head with kickboards. She was probably about due for a break from this place, pregnancy or no pregnancy.

  ‘Ha!’ she responded, ‘I reckon I’m going to cope just fine.’

  A shower at the pool was going to have to do for today: she was rushing to meet Jules at the movies in twenty minutes. They were treating themselves to a Gold Class session. Jules had just aced a few mid-semester assessments and Belinda didn’t need an excuse to go for Gold – she didn’t bloody fit in the normal-sized movie seats anymore.

  ‘Stacey coming?’ Jules asked as Belinda rushed up to meet her at the cinema entrance, breathless from the half-run, half-jog from the car park.

  ‘Nope, just us.’

  Jules shrugged indifferently. She made no secret of the fact that she could take or leave Stacey. As they handed over their tickets and headed into the theatre to find their seats, Belinda tried to keep her voice casual as she asked, ‘So have you been going along to these monthly soccer games I’ve just heard about?’

  ‘Oh God, I knew this was going to blow up in her face eventually. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about them, but Stacey told us you weren’t interested and it would upset you if we brought up anything that reminded you of Andy. I had a feeling she had kind of made the decision for you, but you know me – didn’t want to get involved. Stacey can be fucking scary too.’

  They found their places and sat down, distracted momentarily by the fun of reclining their giant seats and putting their feet up.

  ‘Oh my God, I don’t think I can ever go back to normal cinemas,’ groaned Jules as she stretched her legs out luxuriously.

  ‘I guess I can understand,’ said Belinda, as though she hadn’t even heard Jules speaking. ‘It’s just that you could have checked with me. I would have liked to have caught up with all the guys, you know?’

  ‘Belle, read my lips, woman. Not. Getting. Involved. Take it up with your high-school bestie. Stacey’s the one you have your D ’n’ M’s with and talk about your feelings to. Me? I’m the one you come to when you’re in any state to head out on the town and start drinking again. Now don’t go getting us confused, okay?’ She paused to have a sip of her drink before adding, ‘Ssshh, the previews are starting. I hate missing the previews.’

  Belinda knew she couldn’t get annoyed with Jules. She was what she was: a good-time friend who was great when it came to going out and having fun but not the best in difficult situations, and definitely not one for confrontation. She briefly wondered if they would even stay friends once she gave birth. They’d only met a couple of years back when she’d started at Sydney Uni, getting to know one another over a shared hatred of a particularly evil tutor. While Stace could be a prude when it came to cutting loose, she was always there for you when things got tough, looking out for you – whether it was what you wanted or not. And Stace had been her friend since they were kids: they’d played motorbike-tip together on the farm, gone to boarding school together. They had so much history . . . Still, good intentions or not, she’d bloody well taken it too far this time, controlling her life and her friends, and Belinda wasn’t ready to be forgiving just yet.

  The movie was one of those romantic comedies with a plot she’d seen a million times before, predictable twists and mediocre jokes. The blandness of the film gave her the chance to let her mind drift. She found herself thinking about little Oliver from her five-thirty class, and remembering his pride when he pointed out his dad. If she had boys, would they be that proud of her one day? ‘Hey, look over there! That’s our mum!’ Or was this a male thing where little boys saw their dad as the superhero while their mum was simply there?

  Great, now she was getting all emotional again. This seemed to be happening to her more and more lately. Jules was going to think she was getting teary over this load-of-crap movie. How embarrassing. Really, the more she thought about it, little Oliver wasn’t that cute or angelic. Actually, he was kind of annoying. Plus he almost always seemed to have a snotty nose. And to be honest, the kid was sexist. I mean, really, why not point your mum out to me, kid? Why doesn’t she get the big introduction that Dad does?

  She started to feel a bit better.

  Two weeks later, when Saturday came around, Belinda realised she was relieved to have something to do, even if she was nervous about seeing Stacey at the soccer game. Finishing up work the previous week had left her with long, empty days, especially as she’d had to pull out of her course mid-semester too. No more uni to look forward to for some time now; who knew when she was going to have the time to go back and finish up her last subject?

  She arrived at the park and threw a light scarf around her neck as she climbed out of the car; it was ridiculously windy that afternoon. Her stomach felt fluttery with butterflies (and heavy with kicks) as she walked over to her group of friends and realised she wasn’t just nervous about seeing Stacey. She hadn’t seen any of the guys since the funeral – how were they going to act around her? Apparently, ‘surprised’ was how they were going to act.

  Christ, Stacey hasn’t even told them about the pregnancy.

  She had to go through the obligatory, ‘Yes, how wonderful I’m pregnant, and yes, I am huge, and that’s because I’m having two babies actually, and oh wow, what a shock that is, and yes, they’re Andy’s, and I’m sorry I hadn’t told you all yet, and yes, you can pat my belly if you must.’ Frankly she found it all a little nauseating.

  It turned out that Stacey had kept referring to Belinda as unable to play ‘in her condition’ or ‘in no state to play’ and they had all assumed she meant because of her grief and had followed the orders not to call and upset her. In her usual attempt not to get involved, Jules simply hadn’t bothered to correct them. Belinda began to feel a fool for not having phoned any of them herself to tell them the news, or even just to chat about Andy. She’d forgotten that the guys had really been quite good friends to her too over the years. She missed hanging out with them. Even the overtly crass and sexist Shanks brought a smile to her face when he slung his arm around her shoulders and gave her a slightly strangulating hug.

  ‘So where is our beloved sergeant, anyway?’ Belinda asked, surprised that Stacey wasn’t already there, organising them into teams and allocating positions. She wouldn’t put it past her to turn up with coloured team bibs and start sending them off on warm-up laps arou
nd the oval.

  ‘Apparently she can’t make it today.’ The voice came from behind her and Belinda froze. She had completely forgotten that James might be there too. After all, they were just as much his friends as they were Andy’s. ‘I see everyone’s heard your big news?’ he added as he stepped around in front of her. ‘You’re looking really good,’ he said with a warm smile.

  ‘James, good to see you!’ Too upbeat, she scolded herself, just act natural! ‘So you’ve heard from Stacey?’ she added, realising then that this was rather unusual.

  ‘Yep. Phoned me as I was getting out of the car, asked if you were here. Saw your car and figured you were, told her as much, then she said to let everyone know she couldn’t make it. You two fighting or something?’

  Belinda felt her face go red with embarrassment. As annoyed as she was with Stacey, she didn’t want to be the reason for her not turning up, especially seeing as avoidance was definitely not her usual style. Then she remembered that Stacey was the reason that she hadn’t been there herself for the last few months, and the guilty feeling vanished. Stuff her.

  ‘You kids gonna play or what?’ she asked, leaving James’s question hanging unanswered.

  She sat down in the grass to watch as her friends fanned out, randomly choosing which side they were going to play for, and then began a game that could really only be very loosely referred to as soccer. A few minutes in and Jules had already scored the first goal for her side. As she cheered her pal on, Belinda realised that inside she wasn’t feeling all that cheerful. In fact, she was feeling rather jealous. She used to love Andy’s soccer games, although they only got to play them for about four or five months before he’d died.

  She closed her eyes and let the familiar sounds wash over her. The ball rolling through the damp grass. The running, crunching footsteps and the wind whipping through the surrounding trees. The high-pitched, breathless, hysterical laughter as her friends fought over the ball.

  It took her back to a match a few weeks before Andy had died. If she concentrated really hard, she could almost believe it was that day. Sure, the sun probably felt a little warmer today than it had then, but it was just as windy . . . yep, she could make it work. She imagined that right now she was just taking a break from play for a few minutes and Andy was out there with the others, kicking arse as usual.

  And then she let the full memory wash over her, examining each minute detail with quite impressive accuracy. At this particular match, they had managed (for a change) to follow the rules and keep score properly and the game had become quite serious. They were tied at three-all and their side had possession of the ball. It had been decided that the next goal would end the game, seeing as they were all fairly keen to get to the pub. Coombes got cornered with the ball and passed it off to Andy, who started heading for the goal. The rest of the team cheered him on, assuming the game was over – not many of the guys had much luck tackling her fiancé once he had the ball; it was pretty much glued to his feet.

  He was just about to take his shot when Jules, who was the opposing side’s goalie, came charging at him. Realising his angle had been cut down too much to guarantee a sure-thing, Andy turned to look at Belinda, who was off to his right. She had been ready to back him up, but at the same time had assumed she wouldn’t need to.

  ‘Belle, it’s on you, baby!’ he’d hollered as he used a bit of tricky footwork to pull the ball back and out of Jules’s reach before passing it to Belinda, setting her up with the perfect shot. She was so taken by surprise that she fumbled when the ball reached her. The grass was damp from a shower earlier that morning and her foot had slipped across the slick ball when she tried to kick it. Her leg flew straight up in the air, making her lose her balance and land on the ground with a graceful thump.

  She’d looked up just in time to see the ball – rolling agonisingly slowly from her dismal kick – cross the goal line before Jules could make it back. As Jules had screamed out in rage at her loss, Andy and Belinda had simultaneously let out a whoop of delight: not only had they won, but they’d displayed real-live teamwork! It was a step forward for their relationship! Drinks at the pub after that match had been such a great afternoon. She remembered sitting on Andy’s lap while he jiggled her playfully up and down and whispered in her ear, ‘Ahh, my hero! My beautiful, clumsy hero!’

  God, I miss you, Andy.

  She wondered then if Stacey perhaps had had her best interests at heart when she’d tried to keep her away from all this. Here she was feeling jealous because she wasn’t out there scoring the goals herself, and at the same time feeling this gut-wrenching longing for Andy, to have him by her side, preferably rubbing her back right about now. Was she really ready to be here? Although, the more she thought about it, the more she found herself wondering if it was such a gut-wrenching feeling she was experiencing. Sure, she missed him. Sure, she wished he was here. But there was something else there. A strange feeling of contentment was starting to creep over her. A feeling that, while she was definitely sad that he wasn’t here, it was also okay. She was going to be okay.

  She opened her eyes to watch the action out on the field again and stopped feeling jealous. I’ll get to play again soon. And even though it won’t be with Andy, one day it will be with two little miniature versions of Andy; and from the way they’re hammering at my kidneys, I reckon they won’t be bad little soccer players themselves.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon giving much more genuine and generous cheers, and let herself simply enjoy being around Andy’s mates once again. They really were a good bunch of guys. Afterwards, at the post-soccer-match visit to the pub, conversation naturally lapsed into reminiscing about Andy.

  It was a relief to watch his closest mates chatting about him in such a relaxed way – a stark contrast to the last time Belinda had seen them speaking about him back at the funeral, their faces pale, voices choked and eyes bloodshot. Witnessing them actually cry had been such a shock. She’d known they would be devastated, but they were such typical blokes, she’d never expected such raw emotion from a bunch of guys who would just as easily be found settling in for a marathon of Saw movies without a hint of concern for the film’s doomed characters.

  Before she left the pub, Coombes pulled her aside. ‘Are you going to make it to the GameTech awards night next Saturday?’ he asked. Belinda had received an invite in the mail a few weeks back. She had gone along to this event the previous two years with Andy and, while it was sweet of his boss to invite her along this year, the thought of going without her fiancé had made her ache with longing. She was definitely starting to cope better, but going along and seeing all of his workmates and hearing about the projects he’d worked on just before he died felt like it could be pushing it.

  ‘Look, I know that you guys are planning a special tribute for Andy, but I’m just not sure if I’m up for it. Do you mind if I see how I’m feeling on the day?’ she responded noncommittally. Coombes nodded; he seemed to understand.

  Things were finally starting to gain some semblance of normality again. Belinda was no longer being (and, in fact, never had been) haunted, she had come to terms with her pregnancy, she was spending time with all her mates, and she was (for the most part) managing to feel at ease around James. Her happy, floaty feeling of contentment continued over the next week. Even Doctor Vashna couldn’t help commenting at her next check-up.

  ‘Is everything all right, Belinda? You’re thirty-seven weeks pregnant. With twins. This is the point that most women are strangling me and telling me I need to get those babies out, now. But I don’t think I’ve seen you look more relaxed through this entire pregnancy.’

  Belinda just smiled serenely and enjoyed her feeling of superiority over those other women. She barely paid attention when Doctor Vashna gave her a strict reminder to head straight to the hospital when the first signs of labour hit – any day now.

  That evening, as she w
as cooking her dinner and dancing (somewhat breathlessly) around the kitchen, she felt good. And she continued to feel good as she fell asleep in front of The Amazing Race. That was, until she woke up to the sound of the phone ringing.

  A little while later she hung up the phone and had to grip the kitchen counter for support as a wave of dizziness overcame her, the words from the conversation rushing around her head. Her heart was beating furiously. What the hell did this mean? Hot. She was feeling hot and flustered. She had to get out of here, take a walk and try to clear her head with a bit of fresh autumn night air.

  She opened her apartment door, but stopped in her tracks when she saw something at her feet. What was that? A block of chocolate? She carefully knelt down to pick it up. As she read the packaging, tears sprang into her eyes. It was a block of Cadbury Snack, with a bright yellow sash across the front of the wrapper proclaiming: ‘New! Snack Favourite Bits!’ A picture of a giant, grinning pineapple danced across the front. She opened it up and saw the rows and rows of pineapple pieces. Nothing but her favourites. The night that Andy had proposed to her came rushing back and she stumbled into her apartment, breathing hard.

  ‘It’s not over,’ she whispered to herself. ‘I knew it was you. All along, I knew it was you, Andy. You really are here, aren’t you?’

  The answer came in the form of a tight, hard pain that spread across her stomach, squeezed for a few moments and then released. Ouch! Was that Andy trying to communicate with her? Perhaps it was meant to be a gentle embrace and he’d just got it a bit wrong. Being a ghost and all was sure to mess with your senses, right?

  No, you dimwit. A more sensible, snippy voice popped into her head. Pull it together – remember the antenatal classes? I know exactly what that was, and so do you. That was a contraction.