Selling the Drama

by Theresa Smith

  Toby shrugged. Conversations about money never held any real interest for him. Charlotte glanced up at him and he caught her eye with a wink, latching on to her hand below the table. "So, when is the big day?" he asked graciously, bestowing a wide smile on Ellie while glancing at her ring with little apparent interest.

  Ellie looked at Jake who shrugged. "We haven't got that far yet. After I graduate from the academy. Ellie probably needs a good year to plan out all the ways she can spend our money before we've even earned it."

  "Jake!" Ellie gave him a shove. "I need much longer than that!"

  He shook his head and took another large mouthful of his drink. Charlotte could not help but feel a little sorry for him, as she had no doubt that Jake knew exactly what kind of expenses he was in for, along with the awareness that this was probably just the very beginning of a long life of keeping his wallet open for Ellie and her whims.

  Charlotte reached over for Ellie's hand. "Give me a proper look now." She turned Ellie's hand toward the light. She couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at the sight of it, the diamond glinting large and polished, with its band of smaller encrusted diamonds glittering just as prettily. Sliding her glance towards Jake, he caught her eye. Charlotte sent him a look loaded with meaning, and as he glanced away, returning his attention back to his drink, she realised just how deep he had actually gotten himself into debt for this ring. Sadness, born out of an intimate knowledge of the inner workings of Ellie's family, took hold of her; they were high on expectations and big on extravagances. Jake was out of his depth and he had barely just begun.

  You can think you know somebody so well, have a depth of intimacy with them, a shared embodiment that transcends the ordinary. Yet it's not until you live with them that you really get to know them. Because until such a time as when you're together always, each person still has an option of being able to present their best sides in any given situation. There is always the option of retreat, regroup, and retry. Under the same roof as each other, within the same bed, there is no such option available. The ugly slips out and it sinks in, and sometimes, if you're unlucky, it takes over.

  Toby had a unique ability to be able to completely switch off from the rest of the world, and all of its inhabitants, while he was studying. His intense focus and drive was undeniably an asset to him, a certain way of securing his own success. Yet it did not make for much fun to live with. Charlotte was never more keenly attuned to this than when she had finished her own study, venturing forth into the workforce, keen to dissect each working day with Toby, only to find she was talking to a closed door. He had no time to listen, nor the interest to even make the time. He still had a few months left on his law degree, and after this, he would need to do a six week long Advocacy Course for admittance to the Bar while working as a Judges Associate. There was a lot ahead of him, and Charlotte was not without understanding about the pressures he was facing. But his complete lack of interest in her outside of his preferred set times of allowable interaction was a bitter pill to swallow. And it became more and more bitter as the year went on, with those windows of interaction narrowing markedly.

  "I want to go on a holiday." Charlotte looked up from her laptop and over to the table where he was sitting, head down, books spread out, completely ignoring her. She waited a few moments before getting up and going over to him. "Toby, I just spoke to you."

  He paused, his head still down, pen mid-air. "I heard you."

  Charlotte stared at the back of his head, swallowing down a well of anger. She forced a smile to her face before coming around to sit beside him. "I want us to go on a holiday. A ski holiday. I can organise everything, and I can make it for just a week so it doesn't take up the whole of your September break. What do you think?"

  Toby frowned, tossing his pen down. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Do we have to talk about this right now?"

  "Yes. Because there will never be a time when you think you have time and I've got the time right now to book everything. I am not asking your permission, just your opinion. Do you think it's a good idea?"

  "No, I don't." He reached out to pick up his pen again, but Charlotte stopped him, taking hold of his wrist. His accompanying sigh grated on her like nothing else.

  "Why not?"

  "It's only a mid-semester break. Why can't we do this next year?"

  "Because next year you'll be working while doing those other courses and I know you'll say you have no time then. In fact, I know that within three months from now, you'll start working and you won't stop. This is our last opportunity and I want to take advantage of it."

  In response to any suggestion that was not to his liking, Toby usually had one of two standard reactions. He would either become obsessively interested in changing your mind, or he would become obsessively obnoxious until you changed it for yourself. With Toby, everything was either very black or very white; shades of grey did not ever factor, and more's the pity for you if you decided to knuckle down and argue for the in-between.

  He stared at Charlotte right now, and she could tell, without even waiting for him to open his mouth, that he was going to go with the changing her mind route this time. Charlotte smiled at him. Well, so was she.

  "One week, in the middle, so we have a weekend." She stood then, pushing the chair back into place before backing away.

  "Go with Ellie."

  She turned away from him. "I want to go with you."

  "Charlotte, do not book that holiday. I'm not joking." His tone of voice indicated he was indeed not joking around with her.

  She picked up her laptop from the coffee table and looked down at the screen, taking in the images of the ski fields and descriptions of what was on offer. Looking back up at him, she flipped the computer around to show him the screen. "It's not even very expensive."

  He put his hands on his head, running them through his hair with frustration. "It's not about that and you know it. Charlotte, we can go on a holiday next year. I promise. I really, truly, promise you. We can go for longer than a week and we can even take Ellie and Jake with us. It will be great. My courses will be done by the middle of next year. It's a much better option." He checked his watch, ever conscious of the time pressing on.

  Charlotte snapped the top of the laptop shut. "Forget it."

  He groaned then and she walked past him, ignoring him completely.

  "Don't sulk." Toby shook his head, annoyance written all over his face. "Seriously? As if I was ever going to agree!"

  Charlotte slammed the bedroom door shut. She knew he would not follow her in though, because he had work to do, and the clock was forever ticking.

  Toby arrived home in the late afternoon on the last day of winter to find Charlotte already there, asleep in bed, at four thirty in the afternoon. Checking up on her, he took in the balled up tissues and blotchy state of her face, and figured she must have caught a cold. The fact that he had not noticed she was even feeling unwell prior to this moment was not lost on him. He ran his fingers over her hair lightly, feeling like an incredible shit for being so oblivious. Dumping his bag in the corner, he left it as is, deciding to take the rest of the afternoon and night off from study in favour of looking after his girl. At least he was organised with his schedule. He would hardly suffer from a few hours off. And if she was really sick, she'd likely go to bed early and he could make up some ground then.

  Heading out to the shops, he picked up some cold and flu tablets for her before heading to the supermarket to buy some orange juice and the ingredients to make up a pot of chicken soup. Cooking was not one of Toby's strongest talents, but he was usually able to manage the whole one pot combo, and he figured if Charlotte really did have a cold, then her taste buds would most likely be shot to pieces, so it wouldn't matter if the soup tasted less than perfect. After he had all the food he needed, he called into a bookshop on the way home and bought her a couple of novels from the new release section by authors he knew she had read in the past.

>   Things had been rough for them these last few months. Toby was not that wrapped up in himself to have missed the signs completely. Nor was he under any illusions that the fault was not his. Yet knowing this, and changing it, were two entirely separate ideals. This was his life right now, and there had never been any illusions presented to Charlotte about the way it was going to be for a time. He figured that next year, when the bulk of this study was behind him, things would improve. They would both be working then, him probably a whole lot more than her, but still, they would both be at the same stage at the same time. They would be able to continue like this for a few years until they both decided it would be a good time to get married, and then when they were in their thirties, they could talk about the idea of having kids. When you stuck to the plan, life had a way of working out just fine. A rough patch was nothing if you kept your eyes on the prize.

  Tasting the soup he had made, Toby was surprised to find that it had turned out just fine also. Switching the stove off, he put the lid on top and went to check on Charlotte.

  Charlotte woke to find Toby sitting beside the bed staring at her. "Why are you sitting beside me like a creeper while I sleep?"

  He grinned. "Just making sure you weren't dead. You've been asleep for a really long time. I got home at four thirty and you were out cold. What time did you lie down?"

  Charlotte stretched. "About one." She rolled onto her side and threw back the covers. "What is that smell?" Sitting up on the side of the bed, she faced him, letting him take hold of her hands, his fingers threading with hers.

  "I made you some chicken soup. I bought you some cold and flu tablets as well, just in case you feel that bad." He pulled one of her hands up to his lips and kissed her fingers, smiling at her while he did so.

  Charlotte stared at him, tears threatening behind her eyelids. "You made me soup?"

  He smiled proudly at her. "Yeah. I tasted it and it's actually pretty good. I got you a couple of books too, just in case you get stuck in bed for a bit."

  "You think I'm sick?" Her voice wavered a little, the threatening tears now working their way towards constricting her throat.

  "Well, you're in bed in the middle of the day and there were all these tissues beside you. You didn't look all that great either, although you do look much better now, so maybe you're just fighting something off, hey? Either way, you're probably due for a little pampering." He released her hands and stood over her. "I'll go and get you some soup."

  Charlotte looked up at him through blurred eyes. "I'm not sick." Was he that oblivious? Yes. Yes, he most certainly was. How could someone so incredibly intelligent be so hopelessly ignorant? She didn't even look the same anymore.

  He smiled down at her. "You know you don't have to be tough all the time. It's okay to just curl up and let someone else look after you every now and again." Reaching down, he tucked a loose lock of her hair behind her ear, stroking his hand down the length of it before letting go. "Do you want to eat your soup in bed or on the couch?"

  "I don't want to eat it at all." A tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away only to have it replaced with several more, all of them slipping down her face now of their own accord. She buried her face into her hands and gave in to them, crying more steadily by the minute.

  "What's wrong? Do you feel that bad?" Toby crouched before her, his hands gently pulling hers away from her face. "You don't have to eat now if you don't want to. It will keep until later."

  "Shut up about the soup!" Charlotte looked at him through her tears, dreading this moment all the more on account of having delayed it for so long. "I'm not sick. I'm pregnant."

  Toby dropped his hands and stared at her, the shock on his face almost comical.

  She stared right back at him, saying nothing, giving him a few moments to process the news, thinking he would have plenty to say once he had gotten over the initial surprise. Yet he stayed like that before her, silent and shocked, for an unending time. She refused to apologise to him for this. It was unexpected, and completely went against his 'life plan', but that was life as far as she was concerned. It frequently did not go to plan. He would just have to suck it up and deal with it. And while this pregnancy did not exactly fit into her own flimsy plans either, she had no regrets. Not a single one, and she would be damned if she was going to apologise to him for that, either.

  Toby stood and backed away from her, running his hands through his hair, a sure sign he was trying to get his frustration under control. Charlotte rose from the side of the bed and stood before him, her hands loose at her sides. She watched as his gaze slid down to her belly before meeting with her eyes again.

  "How did this happen?"

  "The standard way."

  "Don't bullshit me! You're supposed to be on the pill!" His anger was immediate, and not in any way unexpected.

  Charlotte shrugged. "I changed the type a while back. I might have messed my cycle up a bit after. It happens." She shrugged and went to walk past him. How it had happened was no longer relevant.

  His hand shot out, grabbing at her arm. "It doesn't happen to me! For fuck's sake, why would you do something like that? How could you be so bloody stupid to mess with something so important?" His hand squeezed, the pressure constricting, and she flinched back from him.

  "Let go of me!"

  He did so immediately, taking a step back from her, a look of horror coming over his face, and he shoved both of his hands deep into his pockets, as though he no longer trusted them unrestricted. He looked at her intently for a few moments, his efforts at getting himself under control evident. After an unending period of silence, he said, "You need to get this sorted out. As soon as possible."

  Charlotte stared at him, the pain around her arm where he had grabbed her dimming beneath the onset of a new pain. "What are you talking about?"

  "I am not having a baby now. That you would even consider it tells me just how out of touch with reality you must be at the moment. For fuck's sake, Charlotte, I am still at uni! I have all this work ahead of me until I can actually work! How am I supposed to concentrate on any of what I need to do with a fucking baby around? This is the wrong time and you know it. Sort it out."

  He had a tone, a look in his eye, and a stance to his posture that was all so unfamiliar, yet he wore it well, as though it were an outfit he had been waiting to try on, and in this moment, for all intents and purposes, it was the perfect fit. The sight of him, so at ease within his rage, was the most heartbreaking impression she had ever had the misfortune of beholding. She felt as though she were looking at a stranger, an imposter within his skin, a person she no longer knew inside out. Before she could say anything in response, he walked out of the bedroom, and moments later she heard the front door slam as he left the flat altogether.

  Dropping back down to the bed, Charlotte curled into herself and pulled her pillow over her face, screaming into it at the top of her lungs. This rapidly deteriorated into tears again, and she gave into them, figuring she might as well cry her eyes out for a while. There seemed at this point no other logical way to deal with Toby's reaction.

  He came home past midnight and Charlotte did not need to see him to guess at what he had been doing in the hours since his departure. The stumbles around the bathroom were enough to tip her off, and then there was the sound of him puking in the toilet, any residual doubts eliminated. He fell into bed beside her silently, and she waited for him to roll over to her, to reach out and say that he was sorry, that he had not meant what he had said, that he was just surprised and needed time to get used to the idea. But he started snoring instead, staying firmly in place on his side of the bed, a great cold void giving way between them that was far more poignant that even he could have intended.

  He was gone by the time she woke up. There was a piece of notepaper wedged under a cold cup of tea on the bedside table. Picking it up, she let her eyes focus on his neatly printed out list of places she could go to get an abortion.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

&
nbsp; Toby banged his fist on the door roughly, his anger merging with a tiredness born out of driving for two hours while furious. "Jenna!" Banging again, he was just about to let himself in when the door swung open. "Where is she?" he demanded.

  Jenna stared at him with wide eyes. "What the hell are you on about?"

  Toby shook his head at her. "I am not in the fucking mood. I've just driven for two hours in peak traffic." Running his hand over his eyes, a heavy weariness began to settle into him.

  Jenna frowned, her eyes travelling over him with concern. "What's going on? Why are you even here?"

  "I need to see Charlotte."

  Jenna looked at him as though he were very stupid. "You live with her. Go to your own house and you might get lucky."

  Toby narrowed his eyes at her. She was either fobbing him off, or he had just wasted two hours of his life because he was too impulsive, and should have perhaps just picked up the phone first. "Charlotte isn't here?"

  "No! What's going on?" she asked again, looking a little anxious now.

  Toby exhaled and slumped against the doorframe, suddenly deflated. "I think she might have left me."

  Jenna's gaze grew sharp. "What makes you think that?" Her tone was now suspicious as she regarded him, hands coming to rest on her hips.

  "Look, have you heard from her this afternoon?" He avoided her question, not wanting to get into the specifics of anything with her.

  "What did you do?"

  Toby hit the side of the doorframe with the palm of his hand, his frustration mounting. "Don't fuck with me Jenna!"

  "No!" She pointed at him angrily. "Don't you fuck with me! What the hell is going on with you and Charlotte?"

  Toby looked at her and was mortified to realise he was about to cry. Jenna seemed to sense a change in him and she softened towards him somewhat, a sigh escaping her as she looked at him with wide eyes.