Heart of Us

by Emma Browne

  ‘Dramatic much?’ I snorted. ‘Look, I don’t know what you’re thinking, breaking up with my sister, but do you really think I could beat you up?’

  He hung his head in his hands. ‘Figured I’d have to give you a chance to try at least.’

  I pursed my lips as I scanned him. ‘Nah, you’re miserable enough. No need for me to break my hand on you.’

  ‘Glad my misery serves some purpose.’

  ‘Yeah, well, maybe stop buying cat piss for beer and you’ll start feeling better and start making better decisions.’ I narrowed my eyes. ‘Like not breaking things off with Jules.’

  He ran a hand down his face, as if to cope with the exasperation he was experiencing. Then he bit out, ‘Glad we could have this talk.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ I set my Budweiser down on the table as the front door opened, and Michael came in.

  ‘Hey.’ He glanced at us as he sauntered into the kitchen to find his own beer, before sitting on the couch. ‘You both ok?’

  He looked like he had run over. ‘Miranda texted Sophia, and Soph wouldn’t leave me alone, so…’ He opened his bottle. ‘What did I miss?’

  I nodded toward Nick. ‘Nick here was just telling me about why he stupidly just broke up with Jules.’

  Michael winced. ‘Man…’

  Nick looked from me to Michael and back, then shook his head. ‘No. I’m not doing this. I’ve made the right decision.’ He glanced at me when he heard my snort. ‘Jules might be a bit upset now, and I’m sorry about that…’

  ‘A bit upset,’ I muttered.

  ‘But she’ll get over it.’

  I looked at him in disbelief. ‘You’re such a bloody idiot.’

  ‘Hey-’ Michael tried to cut in.

  ‘I may be an idiot.’ Nick nodded. ‘It’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

  I rolled my eyes and went to call him stupid again, when Michael sent me a look to shut me up. ‘No need to call him names, Jack.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I set my empty beer on the coffee table. ‘Nick, I think you’ve made a mistake, but I’m here for you. Let me know if you need anything.’ He nodded and I slapped his shoulder as I stood up. ‘I’ll head on out, then.’

  Michael stayed a few minutes longer, but, knowing he wouldn’t be long, I waited for him in the car. A few minutes later he came out of the building, saw me, and got in.

  ‘He’s going to regret breaking up with her,’ I said, as I pulled away from the curb.

  Michael sighed. ‘He’s already regretting it, but he’s too stuck in his head to do anything about it.’

  ‘And when he finally works it all out, he’s going to have to work so hard for her to trust him again. And that’s if she hasn’t moved on by then.’

  Michael bit the inside of his cheek. ‘Sounds like you know what you’re talking about.’

  Stopping at a red light, I looked out the window. I cleared my throat before saying, ‘Yeah, well any idiot can see he’s making a mistake here.’

  Michael smirked. ‘Sounds like you’ve got more insight than some, though…’

  I scratched the back of my neck. He was obviously fishing. ‘If you’re asking how things are with Miranda, just come out and say it.’

  His smirk grew into a grin. ‘How are things with you and Miranda?’

  ‘Not great,’ I bit out.

  ‘Which means you’ve decided you want her back, but she’s not so sure?’

  ‘Oh, she’s sure alright…’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s sure we’re never, ever, ever, getting back together.’ I sighed. ‘Ever.’

  ‘Smart girl.’ Michael chuckled, but went quiet when I glared at him. ‘So, is there a plan?’

  Chapter 19

  Past

  Miranda

  The night before Jack left for Hong Kong, we went for a long walk on Portobello Beach.

  Mum was still doing okay. She was doing chemo and her hair had fallen out again, but she was coping, and it felt like – though her diagnosis was terminal – she might live for a long time still. She kept saying, ‘We all have terminal diagnoses; I’m just going to die sooner than I’d expected.’

  Everything in me wanted to say hasta la vista to life in Edinburgh and go with Jack on an adventure. But I had made my choice to stay, and I knew it was the right choice. Even so, doing life in Edinburgh without Jack would be torture, and it took everything in me not to ask him to stay. I didn’t want to ask him to stay, but I wished he would wait and go later.

  Maybe in a year.

  In a year, life would be less complicated, and I would be free to go with him.

  But most of all, I wished I was enough to keep him in Scotland.

  And I worried about how we would change over the next year. He would meet lots of interesting people – people without cancer-sick mothers and alcoholic fathers that were free to do what they wanted and go across the world on adventures. Maybe he would realise that, though his high school sweetheart was nice, there were so many women without crazy issues in the world, just waiting to be explored.

  Part of me knew that our relationship would never be the same after this year, and that the best thing would probably be to break up. To give him the freedom he probably needed.

  But I couldn’t do it.

  It seemed unfair that Dad would disappear into alcohol, Mum would die of cancer and Jack would leave for Hong Kong – all at the same time. Therefore, as much as I wanted Jack to be free, I also couldn’t go through with giving him the ring back. I needed to keep some form of reassurance that my life wasn’t falling apart completely.

  Jack and I spent the evening walking along the beach, and around nine we started the walk home. We had decided I wouldn’t come with him to the airport to see him off – too much drama – so this evening was goodbye.

  ‘You know, Christmas will be here soon enough,’ Jack said when he noticed my decidedly wet eyes after kissing me at my door.

  I nodded. ‘I know.’

  ‘So, let’s not do the cry-thing. We’ll talk in a couple of days, once I’ve landed, and everything will be fine. We love each other, right?’

  ‘Right, yeah.’ I wiped at my eyes and gave a weak smile. ‘Better make this quick then, eh.’

  He shook his head. ‘Always with the tears…’

  ‘I know.’ My voice was shaky, and the tears wouldn’t stop. If only he knew how many tears I had spared him over the years.

  ‘Come here.’ He pulled me in for a hug, nuzzling my neck before trailing a row of kisses along my jaw and to my mouth. He nipped my bottom lip before pulling away. Chasing his mouth, I rose onto my tiptoes, and ran my hands though his hair as I pulled him toward me. He slid his hands up my sides, grabbing onto me as he deepened the kiss.

  Tears forgotten all my senses were awakened.

  He pulled back and smirked. ‘See you later.’

  Then he left me standing on my front step as he sauntered across the grass to his parents’ door, whistling a silly tune as though he didn’t have a care in the world. He stopped at the door and sent me an air kiss. Before the door closed behind him, he whisper-shouted, ‘See you at Christmas.’

  I opened the door to Mum’s house and went inside. Mum was already in bed, and the house was dark, so I made a quick camomile tea and went to bed.

  The next morning, Jack sent me a message.

  Jack: Just about to take off. Let’s go together next time. I love you. X

  I saw the message before taking Mum to hospital for her chemo appointment. That day she had a bad reaction to the chemo and ended up staying in hospital overnight. Thankfully, it turned out it wasn’t as serious as we had first thought.

  But I knew then I had made the right decision to stay with her, instead of getting on an airplane with Jack.

  ***

  Jack video-called me a few days later. He showed me his flat, which was beautiful, and told me everything was going well thus far. The team he would be working with appeared to be a good fit – at least as f
ar as he could tell at that point – and he seemed excited to be there. Before finishing the call, he asked how things were at home.

  I told him briefly about Mum’s hospital stay, but I didn’t want to bring him down, so I kept things breezy. He was still jet-lagged, and I noticed how he struggled to pay attention as I talked.

  The next time we spoke, he told me about how he had spent his weekend doing some sightseeing. He said he missed me.

  I missed him, too, but I had been kept busy after Mum’s hospital visit. As soon as I mentioned Mum, though, he changed the subject, and I understood why. I didn’t want to be the depressing girlfriend back home that he was shackled to. Instead, I told him a customer story and we had a laugh.

  For the next three weeks we had another couple of video calls, and otherwise we sent each other messages with pictures. He sent me pictures of interesting new foods he had tried, and I sent him pictures of his favourite Scottish things, like ale, fish and chips, oatcakes, and me on Portobello beach.

  Jack living away was weird, but I was getting used to it, and looked forward to the messages and calls. So, when I got an email quite out of the blue, I was shocked as I realised the email wasn’t a love note. Instead, he was breaking up with me.

  Miranda,

  After thinking more about our relationship, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not ready to be in such a serious relationship at this point. I need time to grow up and to become the person I want to be, and this seems like a good time for it. For that reason, I think it is best if we call things off now.

  I realise this will be rather unexpected for you, and I am sorry for any hurt I am causing. Know you will always be precious to me, and whatever happens, I’ll always be your friend.

  Jack.

  I read the email over and over again, trying to make sense of it. It was so stilted, and not at all in line with the messages he had been sending a couple of days earlier that week where he told me how much he missed me and that he was thinking of coming home.

  I had told him he would soon get used to Hong Kong, and to stick things out because he wasn’t a quitter. I hadn’t heard from him since, and I guessed he had taken my message to heart.

  Just not in the way I had meant.

  I floundered for several days as I tried to process it all before writing an email to send back. I didn’t know what to write and everything ached as I deleted length drafts. When I finally sent my reply, I felt it held all I had to say.

  Jack,

  Though I admit I am disappointed, I understand and wish you all the best.

  Miranda.

  Then I took off my ring. I wasn’t sure what I was meant to do with it. Should I give it back?

  Everything in me hurt and I wished for what could have been. Still, a little part of me held on to the hope that Jack would come back and tell me this was all just a bad dream. That part of me found a long necklace, put the ring on it, and wore it underneath my clothes from then on.

  ***

  After replying to Jack, I was a mess.

  I felt anxious and sad throughout the day. I would wake up in the morning wondering why my pillow was damp. Then everything would come back to me, and I would feel a wave of nausea trying to get me to go back to sleep. Maybe if I slept more, I could wake up to a different reality?

  My left hand felt too light, like it was missing something, and my thumb would trace the place where the ring used to be.

  I had to get up to take care of Mum and go to work, though, so I battled through the nausea, putting it down to not eating well enough. I had no appetite left.

  After Mum had seen me be sick twice in one week, she watched me sip my ginger tea from across the kitchen table and said, ‘It’s probably time you took a pregnancy test, isn’t it?’

  The tea went down the wrong tube, causing my eyes to water. ‘What?’ I spluttered when I could talk again.

  She said nothing but gave me a weak smile.

  Panicked, I got up to get my piece of bread out of the toaster. I spread butter on it as I did the maths and realised Mum might have a point. I spent the day at work obsessing about it. What would I do if I was pregnant? How would I tell Jack? After getting his email, this would seem like a manipulative ploy to keep him attached to me. I wanted him back, but I didn’t want him to come back out of obligation. Still, I couldn’t exactly hide a pregnancy from him. Not when his family lived right next door.

  Touching the ring through my clothes, I tried to ground myself – I was borrowing trouble now. Better wait to worry about anything until after I had taken a test. Besides, I probably wasn’t pregnant – it was probably just a bug.

  I picked up a test kit after work that day and peed on the stick after Mum was in bed. Laying the stick on the sink, I waited the two minutes with my heart in my throat. My skin was clammy when I looked to see the result.

  Positive.

  Positive??

  My heart skipped a beat, even as my mind wondered how this could be positive. This was not how things were meant to go. I was supposed to be happily married in Hong Kong, and any potential children were to wait until after I had finished my degree and settled nicely into a job.

  Could it be a false positive? That happened, right? The tests were meant to be carried out in the morning, so that was probably the reason it showed a positive result. Good job I had bought two test kits. I would take another in the morning.

  And somehow, despite it all, it felt positive.

  Like maybe there were still good things in life.

  Like maybe God wasn’t just out to get me.

  I put a hand to my tummy. ‘Hello?’ I whispered. ‘Is someone in there?’

  I didn’t sleep well that night; there were too many thoughts and feelings running through my mind. And when I finally did sleep, I had weird dreams about telling Jack about the baby, only to find he wanted me to have an abortion.

  Waking up the next morning, I wasn’t sure what was up or down. The nausea was overwhelming, and I was exhausted. But as I peed on the stick again, I knew that if I was pregnant, then I was keeping it. My body, my choice, right?

  The test confirmed the previous result. I was definitely pregnant.

  Two weeks later, I had my first midwife appointment and an initial scan. My periods had been so irregular since Mum got sick that I had overestimated how far along I was, and the first scan ended up being at nine weeks. The picture showed a little bean, just over two centimetres long. My determination to keep the baby grew as I watched the ultrasound technician explain what was what. Up until that point, I had known I was pregnant, and I certainly was sick enough to prove it, but seeing the little bean on the monitor made it feel real.

  On my way home from the hospital, I stopped at a yarn shop in town and bought some soft merino wool. Then I spent the evening showing Mum the ultrasound picture and searching for knitting patterns online. Though Mum worried about me and the baby, she saw the baby as a blessing. We both found some patterns to knit and started knitting that evening.

  Mum looked like she was dying to ask, but somehow, we avoided speaking about Jack. Still, he was constantly on my mind. I kept touching the ring through my clothes, hoping despite everything that things would be alright.

  I had to find a way to tell him about the baby and, seeing as he had broken up with me via email, I figured maybe writing him an email would be best. I could send him a copy of the ultrasound picture so he would understand I wasn’t just making the whole thing up. Still, I realised this wouldn’t be the email he was hoping to get.

  I wrote three drafts, which I deleted before going to bed. Maybe the words would come to me if I got some sleep first.

  Four days later, I still hadn’t sent him the email. I was sitting at the breakfast table nibbling at a rich tea biscuit and slowly sipping my ginger tea, when I felt Mum look at me across the table. She was eating a piece of toast with her tea.

  ‘Did you tell him yet?’

  I pushed my fingers through my hair and scrunched
my face. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I guess you’ve got a few weeks before you start showing.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t see it getting any easier, though.’

  I sighed. ‘No. I’ll tell him tonight.’

  Mum nodded.

  It was later that day when my stomach started cramping and bleeding. Terrified, I rang the midwife from the staff bathroom at work, and she arranged for an ambulance to come pick me up. By the time we got to hospital, though, there was nothing they could do to save the baby. They talked me through my options, and I was sent home later that afternoon.

  Mum and I were quiet as we drove home. There was nothing to say.

  I spent the night and next few days bleeding and cramping, and it was awful. In every way.

  Mum kept looking at me with sad eyes, full of empathy. As kind and supportive as she was trying to be, though, I knew her grief wasn’t helping her health. She still had chemo to do, and I wanted us both to spend her last few months enjoying life instead of grieving. So, telling myself it was for Mum’s sake, I decided to push my grief on the future.

  We put away our knitting, and spent the next few months watching films Mum liked. We probably watched Grease fifteen times and Wedding Date about twenty. On days she could handle it, I would put on Carol King or Queen and we would dance in the kitchen as I cooked.

  I say we, but Mum didn’t do much dancing.

  Or eating.

  Instead, she sat on a chair and watched me.

  Though she knew I was putting on a brave face, she never pushed me or questioned me. She let me escape, and she let me use her as an excuse not to have to wade through all the grief I was feeling. Maybe it would have been better for me to face reality, but right then that was all I could handle. Later – once Mum was dead – the memories of those times reminded me that though life sometimes sucked, there was goodness to be found.

  And if there was any silver lining to all the grief I was experiencing, at least now I wouldn’t have to tell Jack he was going to be a dad.

  I wouldn’t have to be the one to close the door on his adventures and trap him into growing up.

  Chapter 20