by Max Henry
I can’t say what it is that held me back from telling him the news as soon as the doc dropped the bomb on Monday. Maybe it was because I was only coming to terms with it myself, or perhaps it was the way he laughed when he realised I forgot about his so-called issue?
He’s past having kids. It’s not something we’ve talked about other than when he’s reminded me he was supposedly sterile. He turns thirty-nine soon. I mean, no, it’s not too old to start a family, really. But he has the car project, and I have the studio to set up.
Having a kid throws a spanner in the works, and my biggest worry is that it puts the pressure on him to be the main provider. At least for the first year after the birth, until I’m at a place where I can juggle motherhood and a career.
I settle a hand on my stomach, finding a seat on one of the huge rocks that adorn the tussock-filled garden. The concept that something small, something living is in there… it’s crazy. My stomach won’t change shape for a while yet; I’m still in such early days. Until it does, I think I’ll continue to struggle with believing the truth in all of this.
A little Zeus, or maybe a tiny me? Perhaps the best of both of us. Or maybe even the worst of both of us. Damn. There’s no way of telling, not for a while yet.
I shiver as a gust cuts across the car park, slicing through me like an icy knife. My hands do little to warm my arms, the thin fabric of my T-shirt doing sweet fuck all to keep the chill off my kidneys.
“Here.”
His voice startles me, and I spin on my rock to find Zeus standing behind me with his jacket held out for me to slip on. The memory hits me with force: a caring man doing exactly the same for a young girl the day her mother walked out.
Tears well in my eyes, the moisture making it hard to see properly as I adjust my position to accept the jacket. He slips the arms on, tugging the warm fabric tight around my neck.
“Is it true?” His eyes hold so much hope.
I nod. “Early days yet, but definitely there.”
His gaze drops to my stomach. “I didn’t think….” He trails off, leaving me hanging.
He didn’t think what? He could? He would?
“What?” I press, scooting closer to him.
“I didn’t think I could.” His knees lean against the front of my rock so that he lowers himself to my level.
Zeus lays a reverent hand on my stomach through the jacket and shakes his head. “Fucking miracle.”
“Babe.” I pull his face up toward mine. “Everything about us is a damn miracle. When we got together despite the odds, it seems fitting that we’d do this against the odds too.”
“How, though?” His eyes search mine. “How is it possible?”
“According to the doc, I must be one super fertile chick. And that alone balanced out your issues. The odds were still slim, but they were there nonetheless.”
“You and me, dove.” He grins wide as he pulls me to my feet. “We’re gonna be parents.”
“Are you okay with that?” I take his hand and we head for the warmth of our room.
“Okay? I’m fucking over the moon.” I catch the glimmer of moisture on the rims of his eyes. “Can I tell you something?”
“Always.” I give his hand a squeeze.
He glances down at me as he holds the door for me to go inside. “The week I decided to pay your dad a visit, and then you, I saw Jodie.”
“Okay?”
“She had Bradley, her son, with her,” he explains. “Anyway. She goes to order coffee, right, and she leaves the little guy with me.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course, being a damn baby, he had to cry when she left.” He rolls his eyes. “But Belle, when I picked that little guy up, and he calmed under my touch….” He stares off into nothing as we reach the stairs. “I knew that no matter how it happened, I wanted that connection for myself. I might be an old guy by some people’s standards, but babe, I’m ready to be an old dad, too.”
We stop walking when we reach our floor, Zeus pulling me to face him.
“I’m going to do right by you, Belle. This little guy”—he sets his hand on my stomach—“means everything.”
“Or girl,” I point out.
He huffs a small laugh before picking me clean off the floor. I wrap myself around him as he starts for our door, my focus on his face as I point out one important fact.
“We’ve got a long way to go before the first trimester is over, Zeus. I want to play this cool until we’re out of the danger zone, okay?”
He nods, adjusting his hold on me to free up a hand for the key card. “I know. But baby—” Zeus carefully navigates us through the doorway. “This doesn’t change a thing.”
“What do you mean?” It changes everything.
He smirks as the door closes behind us. “That little dude, or dudette, in there is just the start.” His eyes grow heavy, his smirk stronger as he lays me down on the bed and pins me beneath his weight. “I’m still going to fuck you bare and take that risk.”
“Are you now?” Why the hell does the thought of more kids turn me on?
He nods. “Yep. Starting now.”
EPILOGUE
Zeus
Four years ago, I held a girl in my arms with my heart in my throat, petrified that what I was doing was wrong and ultimately I’d ruin the one I loved in my selfish crusade to make her mine.
But as I watch the mother of my baby boy—knew it—waddle across the room with her fat belly, I couldn’t be more certain that I did the right thing.
“Hey, gorgeous.” I can’t keep my damn hands off her.
Belle leans against me to take the weight off her feet. “Hey, baby.”
John enters our living room from the back deck, a tray of barbecue meat in his hands. “Where do you want this?”
“The table, Dad.”
We waited until the first trimester passed—what a fucking challenge that was—and invited John and Sharon over for dinner. They didn’t notice Belle’s looser clothes, or the flat pack crib propped up against the wall in the spare room. Nope. Neither of them twigged to what was going on until Belle set the table.
Two place settings with two sets of knife and fork bound by little blue booties.
Sharon cried, and to my surprise, so did John. Since then the grandparents have been over almost every second weekend.
“Have you got your hospital bag packed?” Sharon asks as Belle makes her way to the table.
“I’ve still got two weeks until my due date,” she argues. “I’ve got heaps of time.”
“You won’t be saying that when your water breaks and you end up at the hospital with no pyjamas,” John says.
“That’s what Zeus is for.” Belle gives me a smile as I help push her chair in.
I take my seat at the head of the table, warmed as always to have this bunch of people in my life. “Dig in.”
The chatter continues throughout the meal, Belle growing more and more quiet as John explains his work to me. I know it’s boring as hell to listen to, but I humour the guy. Still, I figure when you’re deeper than you are wide, and your feet pulse like an electric fence, then you’re likely to be less patient.
“We’re thinking of selling the house,” John announces, glancing to Sharon. “The two of us don’t need so many rooms, and we’d be wise to downsize to something newer.”
“How does Cerise fit into that?” I ask. “Does she still own part?”
He shakes his head. “I bought her out a few years back.” His gaze flicks to Belle again. “How do you feel about that, sweetheart? It was your childhood home.”
“It’s your house, Dad.” She frowns, shifting in her seat. “I’m fine with whatever you choose to do.” She grimaces again before rising from her chair to stretch her legs.
“You okay?” I reach out and catch her hand.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just indigestion.” Belle drops a short laugh. “Tell you what, I can’t wait to have my gut space back for myself.”
John chu
ckles at her gripe, while Sharon looks concerned.
“Are you sure it’s just indigestion?”
Belle pushes one shoulder back to stretch out her abdomen. “It’ll pass.” No sooner has she said that than her face contorts in pain. “Agh, fuck.”
“Where does it hurt?” Sharon questions.
My girl points out the two bands of pain, before promptly doubling over with a moan.
This shit ain’t indigestion. I catch Sharon’s eye as I rise to help Belle to a more comfortable seat. “Think you could throw that bag together?”
She grins, launching from the seat while John pieces the clues together. “Is she?”
I nod. “Think so.”
Belle groans, pushing her legs out rigid to help ease the pain. “Zeus?”
“Yeah, baby girl?”
Her rich brown eyes go wide. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Baby,” I say, doing my best to contain my laughter. “You haven’t got a choice.”
Sharon skids back into the room, still zippering the bag as Belle lets out an almighty moan. “I’ll get the car out front.” She looks to John while pointing to Belle. “You get over there and help your daughter get to her feet.”
“I don’t want to do it,” Belle hollers as we try to ease her to her feet. “I don’t want to give birth.”
“Be over before you know it,” John says as he ducks under her arm. “Breathe deep and let us do everything else.”
Belle makes it as far as the entrance before the next contraction tears through her. She cries out, dissolving into tears as she clutches John’s shirt in a death grip.
And in that moment, everything is perfect in my world.
I have my best friend back. I have the woman I love. And best of all?
I’m about to become a father.
Fuck yeah. What’s age but a number?
Four simple rules when you’re new parents:
1. Don’t believe anything will stay the same.
2. Don’t forget to take time for yourselves.
3. Definitely don’t blame each other for what you no longer have.
4. And whatever you do, don’t keep secrets.
Some things need to be learned firsthand.
ONE
Belle
An extra pair of hands would be fucking fantastic right about now. Instead, I’m left juggling a child, an umbrella, and my phone while traffic tears past us at highway speed.
“Shit.” I slap the phone against my side, plastering it to me before it falls to the grass, and then smile at my daughter.
Thank Christ she can’t understand what I say yet.
Her head wobbles on unsteady shoulders, a chubby hand reaching out to knot in the lengths of my hair.
I’d pry those fingers free, but again, umbrella and no free hands. The same damn umbrella pinched between my cramped shoulder and neck.
“Not much longer, okay, bubba?” I smile at Sera and once more scout the roadside for somewhere I could set her down.
Let’s just say that motorists aren’t the eco-friendliest bunch. If she didn’t get her gnashers sliced up on the bent and torn aluminium can, she’d be bound to pick up any manner of diseases from the litter that blends into the patchy grass as though it’s evolved some kind of camouflage over its time roadside.
“Daddy will pick up this time, okay?”
I have no idea why I’m telling Sera who it is that I try desperately to dial with three fingers and limited view of my screen, other than in a vain attempt to convince myself Zeus will be available to answer.
His cell number connects at the same moment a truck and trailer roar past, rocking the useless car and blasting Sera and me with the backdraft. I’d move farther off the road, but you know, electric fence and all that fun stuff.
“Hey, baby.” I can hear the smile in his tone. “What’s up?”
“How busy are you today?” A motorbike screams past with a high-pitch wail.
I’ve never seen Sera flinch until now.
“Where the hell are you?”
“Stuck.” I drag in a deep breath and glare daggers at the useless hunk of metal before me. “Are you able to leave the site for a while?”
“Babe.” Zeus pauses, and I know the answer before he says it. “You know I’m training the new guy today.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important,” I snap.
He hesitates, and I can imagine the damn frown on his handsome face. “What do you need, Belle?”
“Shit.” I glance at Sera’s wide-eyed curiosity and wonder how long it is before a swearword becomes her first. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out.”
The resulting growl vibrates deep in my gut as much as the throaty engine that just tore past. “Spit it out, dove.”
His patience frays, and I don’t blame him. I’m acting like the damn child I was when I first laid eyes on him.
“The damn car is dead,” I grind out, jostling Sera on my hip. “As in, kaput. Finito.”
“Where are you then? Are you near home?” The horn sounds in the background signalling the end of his break.
“Northern motorway,” I relent.
“Belle—”
“It’s fine,” I growl. “I can figure this out.”
“Fuck’s sake.” A rustle indicates he covers the mouthpiece before he hollers, “Gimme a minute!”
I could call the roadside service for the motorways—whatever the hell their number is—but that doesn’t get the car home. Second, to my need to get off the side of the road is how the heck I’ll get groceries tomorrow without a vehicle.
“Dove, I have to go.” Zeus sighs. “Call the fucking emergency number to get the response unit to you. If you can’t see it on the signpost from where you are, google it.”
“Yes, dear,” I sass.
He pushes a gruff groan before continuing. “And then fucking call me to let me know what’s happening.”
The bossy tone he uses catches my next breath in my throat. I’ll pay for this tonight. And I can’t damn wait. Angry Zeus is scary-hot Zeus.
As though to remind me to tame the current reel playing in my head, Sera slaps a sticky hand to the side of my face.
“Go. I’ve got this, babe.”
He sighs—somebody shouting at him in the background. “I know you do, dove.”
I hang up acutely aware that after our pointless conversation, that’s all I really needed—the reassurance he gives me that I’m tough enough to figure out whatever gets thrown my way.
We’ve known the car needs fixing, but reduced hours at the yard, and me going part-time since having Sera, added to a host of other things that made our incomings not quite enough to carry our outgoings this past year.
Both of us buried our heads in the sand and hoped like hell things would turn around before we got to this point, but yet, here I am.
Roadside. With twenty per cent battery and a now grizzly baby.
“One more call and then we’ll find somewhere to sit so I can feed you, huh?”
Her button nose twitches, chin trembling as she studies my hopeful smile. The damn thing ain’t catching. Sera’s deep blue eyes water, her cherry lips turned down at the corners.
I have mere seconds before detonation. Better make it a quick call.
I take a hesitant step toward the steady traffic tearing past our abandoned car and search the roadside for the little rectangular signs that display the emergency breakdown number. There’s one, but the freaking thing is so far away that I’d need superhuman vision to read it from here.
Google it is, then.
The phone slips from my grasp as I turn and hits the ground—screen first. Every muscle in my body tenses as I remind myself that I have a babe in my arms who wouldn’t appreciate me dropping her in a fit of rage.
Life would be so much easier without the damn umbrella that I’m struggling to keep upright, but I’m not the kind of mother that wants to risk her daughter’s delicate skin in the
mid-afternoon sun. Especially when I have no idea how long we’ll be stuck here.
Sure as shit no way I’m putting her back in the car seat to be swiped by some lax driver while I watch on, either.
So, struggle city it is.
Carefully bending my knees and maintaining balance, I retrieve the phone and bring up the search app. A handy-dandy pop-up in the centre of my screen advises the phone has switched to low-power mode. Fantastic.
By the time the rescue service has my position narrowed down, and a vehicle despatched, I’m two seconds from a meltdown to match Sera’s. Her piercing wail aches in my left ear, the phone advising I have a precious eleven per cent left as I set it down and kick aside discarded cigarette butts to give us relative privacy behind the wall of my sedan.
“I’m hungry too, bubba.” She latches on without hesitation, sucking greedily at what little I have to give.
Our barren cupboards have meant my diet has near halved, resulting in reduced output. I keep telling Zeus it’s fine whenever he presses for how much I’ve been eating, but the fact my hipbones jut out where he used to have ample flesh to grasp is a clear indicator that I stretch the truth.
Again, that sand is damn handy when I want to deny the reality shoved in my freaking face: I’m weeks away from having to bite the bullet and add formula to our weekly shop, which is no doubt more expensive than just feeding my damn self properly.
Get it together, Belle.
There’s an answer. I know there is. But unless Wade is happy for me to have a baby at my feet while I ink somebody, then a return to work is out of the question. Daycare is expensive.
Why the hell didn’t they teach us these things in school? You know. Like, the really important stuff?
A crunch of tyres and the flashing yellow of my saviour draws my focus from my spiral and back to the gentle sucking of Sera as she feeds. I carefully remove her from my spent left side with the hopes I can feed her the right later.
Going by the tiny frown on her brow and the quivering lip, she’s not having a bar of it.