by A. E. Murphy
“Maybe next time,” I shrug, taking it all off and quickly donning my own clothes.
I leave the items Emily picked with the lady just outside of the changing rooms and purchase the cute, funny T-shirts that I chose and the stretchy leggings.
“I’m dreading going back to college on Tuesday.”
“I bet.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Just keep your head down and avoid him if he’s being that much of a dick.” Then, after a brief pause, she adds, “I wish you’d tell me what happened. I feel as though I’m going to find out anyway.”
She’s right. Everybody is going to find out anyway, but I need more time to adjust to this myself before everyone starts having a go at me.
“I’m just not ready to say it aloud yet,” I say softly, keeping my shameful eyes on the ground. “Let’s just have fun and forget about it, okay?”
“Deal. Sleepover? Celebrate our last night of the holidays?”
“Hell yes,” I beam, feeling a lot better already. “Movies, snacks and gossip.”
“And no talk of boys… except your brother. I want to know everything.”
“Ewww.”
“Definitely, definitely not ewww,” she replies with a dreamy look in her eyes.
I pretend to vomit though I genuinely feel like it. “He’s too old for you anyway.”
“In two point five years when I’m eighteen, age will be nothing.” She sighs again. “I can wait. I’ll be patient.”
“You’re a freak,” I giggle, looking around us as we cross a busy street. “If you’re staying over tonight, you have to promise me something.”
“What?”
“No talking about my brother.”
“Fine.” She pouts. “Boring.”
Shudder. As if she fancies my brother. It’s just gross and I don’t need to hear about it.
I’m late back on the first day. This nausea is kicking my arse and it took me forever to convince myself to actually go. I think I might be depressed or just terrified that somebody will notice my condition. I still have yet to figure out what I’m going to do, how I’m going to tell my parents. Every time I think about the disappointment that will shine from their eyes it makes my lip tremble and a lump rise in my throat. The last thing I want to do is hurt them.
The more I think about it, the more I figure that adoption is a better option. I’ve done some research online. It would be discreet. I’m thirteen and a half weeks gone. It’ll be born August, I think. College ends in May. I could easily ride this out, keep it hidden and then go away after school, have the baby, give it to a nice couple who can’t have kids and then come back. Nobody would ever have to know. My reputation would be okay. Mum and Dad won’t hate me and maybe I’ll still be datable.
The problem is figuring out where to go.
The next problem is, will I be able to give it up? I already feel a strange attachment to it and it’s not even bigger than an orange yet. At least I hope it isn’t; I need to stay skinny for as long as possible.
A torrent of whispers find me wherever I go. People stare at me in classes and stare even more when I skip the canteen and hide under a tree on the grounds with an old book I abandoned in my locker last year. I have yet to finish reading it and it has yet to capture my attention. I just want to look busy.
Everybody seems to know that Dillan and I are no longer a couple. It’s killing me, the thought of him dating somebody else, especially while I’m in this condition. Would he be so cruel?
It’s just as much his fault that I’m like this and I hate him for it. Why does he get off so easily? Why am I the bad guy?
I leave before the bell rings and make it home before anybody can capture me. This is my life for the next four days.
“Okay,” Mum snaps, barging into my room uninvited. “Cut this shit out and tell me what’s going on.”
I blink, surprised by her sudden question. We were literally speaking in the kitchen only ten minutes prior to this burst of craziness.
“Huh?”
“You are moping in your room; Dillan is moping in his; you’re constantly down… what the hell is going on?”
“Nothing.” I roll my eyes. “Dillan broke up with me and I’m sad about it, okay? Can I not be sad about that?”
Her eyes soften with sympathy but I know I’m not getting off that easily. “Yes, but you’re being too sad and so is he. I still speak to Gwen, remember?”
Shrug.
“Tell me what happened.”
“He’s a dick. He’s not the person I thought he was.”
“So you broke up with him?”
“No,” I sigh, slamming my laptop shut. “He broke up with me. I just said that.”
“But why?” She moans. “You two were so lovely together.”
“He said things were getting too serious for him and he wanted to focus on school.” It’s a half truth.
Her brows hit her hairline. “Too serious?”
“Yes, like… I told him I loved him and he bolted. Okay?”
Her fingers go to her lips; she looks to be in shock. “No… but he loved you. Anybody could see that.”
“He’s seventeen, Mum… what do you expect?”
When her eyes darken, I shrink back into my headboard. “Did you sleep with him?”
“Mum!”
“Sorry, I just… did you?”
“Please go away,” I sigh, reopening my laptop. “I have things to do.” I glare at her. “Don’t speak to Gwen about this. It’s nobody’s business. Okay?”
She places her hand on her heart. “Of course, sweetie. Shall I make you some dessert?”
“I would love some dessert,” I grumble. “Make it chocolate, chocolate, double, triple chocolate.”
“The way I love it.” She smiles and then moves towards me. With her knee on the bed she hugs me tight, making me feel even crappier than I already do. “You can tell me anything, you really can. I’m not just your mum; I’m your friend. Don’t ever feel alone, okay?”
I nod into her hair and return the hug with as much force as she’s giving.
“When will I be over him?” I sob, hating myself for being so weak.
“How much did you love him?”
“More than I’m physically capable of. The thought of him getting with anyone else makes me want to die.”
She pulls back and with soft hands begins to play with my hair. “It’ll pass. I don’t know when, but it will. One day you’ll look back and laugh at this when you’re chilling with your new, handsome beau.”
“You think?”
She nods and kisses my temple. “Anybody would be lucky to have you in their life. He’s just too dumb to see it. Boys at this age usually are.”
“Agreed.” I smile genuinely for what feels like the first time ever. “I don’t need him.”
“No, you don’t.” She kisses me again and stands. “Right, I’m going to go make us some pudding and you’re going to continue to wallow until you feel like you’re ready to not wallow anymore. Okay?”
“Thanks, Mum,” I say and pull my laptop back onto my lap.
The urge to stalk Dillan on Instagram and Facebook overwhelms me and I find myself scrolling through his updates, relieved when he doesn’t have any. Maybe he is suffering as badly as I am.
Leroy: You free??
I don’t reply; I’m too tired.
Leroy: Bitch, I know you’ve seen my message. You free?
Tyler: I’m trying to sleep.
Leroy: It’s not even six yet. Get dressed, you’re coming to my house. We’re playing Monopoly.
Tyler: Monopoly? Is Dillan there?
Leroy: Nope, I invited you first. I’ve spent enough time with him this week. Come on. I’m on my way.
Tyler: In what? On foot?
Leroy: You shall see. Be there in ten.
I can’t even be bothered but I need to get out, especially since I’m doing the one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t. I’m searching for Dillan. He doesn’t deserve it. H
e doesn’t deserve me. Mum was right. He doesn’t deserve any part of me. Not my body, not the baby that he doesn’t want.
Now I know what I’m doing, now I have my plan, I need for him to not even exist. I can’t risk him telling anybody about this.
Tyler: If it makes you feel better, I did it. No more baby.
I lie and his response is almost immediate.
Dillan: Thank you. Are you okay? Do you need anything? You should have called. I’d have gone with you.
Tyler: Don’t contact me anymore. I just wanted you to know, but I don’t want anything beyond that.
Dillan: But everything can go back to how it was.
Tyler: It can’t because I don’t trust you or even like you anymore. You broke my fucking heart.
Dillan: I’m coming to see you.
Tyler: If you even think of stepping foot near me, I’ll tell my parents exactly what you forced me to do alone. Don’t contact me and don’t speak to me. You’re dead to me.
A weight has been lifted, a painful one, like ripping duct tape from my heart strings. It’s brief but once the stinging stops, I feel so much better.
I’ll never feel one hundred percent but I feel better than I did.
Then, when Leroy arrives and we go to his and play Monopoly with his Mum and Dad after he picks me up in his new car, I feel even better.
“Ty!” Dillan yells and jogs to catch up with me.
I look away, keeping my eyes front and centre. “Tyler.” He grabs my arm and stops me in my tracks.
“Get off,” I hiss, pulling free and shoving my bag back onto my shoulder. It slipped when he stopped me from walking. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, backing me into the space between the door and the wall. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been…”
“I don’t care.” I look away, unable to meet his eyes for fear of loving him all over again. It’d be a lie. He’s only here because I did what he wanted me to do, or at least he thinks I did. “I’m over it.”
“Over it? Is that why you’re hanging around Leroy again?” He snaps.
I shove my shoulder into his chest as I pass him. “My life is none of your business. Stay away from me, Dillan. I mean it.”
“But I love you.” He grabs me again. “I don’t feel complete without you.”
“Your love is a fucking joke. You made me do something I didn’t want to do and now you’re back? Love doesn’t choose a time to be present. It exists regardless of what happens. You’re a pathetic excuse of a man and I wish, wish, I hadn’t given myself to you.”
“You don’t mean that.”
I continue on my way, breathing deeply so I don’t become the kind of person I hate by punching him on his nose.
“If it’s true what you said about love,” he shouts after me, drawing the attention of the people around us that I tried so hard to shield from my private affairs, “then you still love me and I’m not going to stop fighting for you, Ty.”
“You already did, Dillan,” I call back, walking backwards away from him. “There’s no coming back after that. I never want to see you again.”
I never should have messaged him. I’m an idiot.
Keeping my head low, I slink away and leave the school completely when I know he’s no longer following me. I have things to do anyway. Things that don’t involve thinking of Dillan or his spawn.
No amount of wishing that this could be over has brought my body any relief and I know it must make me a terrible person. I’m not going out of my way to harm the baby, but every morning when I wake up and don’t find evidence of a natural miscarriage, my heart sinks a little. I’m the worst kind of person there is. I know it, but I can’t help it.
Standing sideways in front of my bedroom mirror, I move my hand over my swelling belly. I feel huge, though I don’t look it, not yet. I can still hide it under baggy clothing. Under anything tight it’s blatantly obvious that I’m carrying an alien.
I can no longer run from it; I have to see a doctor or something.
I pull my leggings up as far as they will go and let my T-shirt drop, then I wrap an obnoxiously large scarf around my neck and let it hang down and over my belly before donning a thick wool cardigan. Now I don’t look pregnant at all and thankfully the nausea has stopped.
Though it is the only thing that has stopped. Dillan still comes to me in school and strikes up conversations as though nothing ever happened between us. He’s not stopping despite my efforts to avoid him and despite my ignoring him.
He’s even gone as far as to send flowers through my mum.
I should tell him I’m still pregnant; he’d leave me alone then.
No. He doesn’t deserve any part of this and I can’t handle his harsh words again.
For now, I distract myself in my studies, with Emily and occasionally Leroy who, despite our history, has become a decent friend. He’s not so much a friend that I could confide this to him though. I don’t have anybody that I can confide this to.
Over the February holidays I stay with my Grandparents in their cabin in Sherwood Forest. It is amazing and had Dillan been a better boyfriend, he’d have been welcome to join me. More fool him. I upload a lot of pictures, not only to make him jealous but also to show him that I’m moving on.
But am I moving on if I’m trying to make him jealous?
I’m such a child. I’m going to have a baby in twenty-two weeks and I’m trying to make a man who abandoned me jealous.
Holy crap.
I’m going to have a baby in twenty-two weeks.
I pick up my phone and call my doctor, who gives me the number for the local family services where I speak to a midwife. I beg her to keep this quiet and not send anything through the post.
She must think less of me than I think of myself, though she doesn’t show it. She books me in for a scan the day after tomorrow due to me being so far along and promises no surprise calls or letters.
“You free?” Dad taps on my door and lets himself into my room.
I cross my legs and lean forward so my T-shirt completely drops over my curves, hiding everything from even the most accidental glimpse.
“I am.” I spin my phone in my hands between my thumb and finger.
“Shall we go to dinner?”
I grin. “Definitely. What’s the occasion?”
“Your mum just got confirmation of publication for that piece she spent months on.”
My lips part with excitement. “The one about the school failure to spit out well functioning beings?”
“The one and only.” He beams, his face a mask of pride. “So… dinner?”
“Yes! But I’m getting dessert.”
“Whatever.” He winks and tugs on my hair. “Your mum’s paying.”
“I heard that!” Mum calls from the landing.
We both laugh quietly and he leaves me to get ready. The problem is, what do I wear?
Thankfully due to how much weight I’ve lost, I have a few dresses from back in my bigger days that bury me enough.
I push my swollen breasts up to keep eyes off my lower half and let my hair fall in silky waves. It’s getting so long. I’m thinking of adding blue to it the next time I go for a trim.
“Gwen is joining us.” Mum lets me know just as we’re leaving the house.
“Emily?”
“No, she’s already busy tonight apparently.” I hesitate before asking. “Dillan?”
“I doubt it. She didn’t mention him. You two still aren’t talking?” She asks kindly. “Those flowers he sent were beautiful.”
“Next time he sends flowers, send them back.” I tell her for the twentieth time. “Traitor.”
“Gwen said he seems really sorry.”
“Mum, whose side are you on?” I feel like stomping back inside to escape this. My temper is shocking now. All these hormones in my poor body are screwing me up terribly. “I said I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“Well maybe he had his,” I snap. “Did you ever think of that?”
“Ladies,” Dad rests his arm around my shoulders, “why are we fighting on such a beautiful night?”
“Mum’s being pushy.”
“Mum,” he jests, “don’t be pushy.”
“I am not! She’s being stubborn.”
“Ha!” I laugh once. If only she knew. “Just leave it.”
“Yeah, Maaa, just leave it,” Dad mimics in a whiny tone and a heavy London accent. Then he elbows me in my arm and grins. “Innit, bruv?”
“You’re a knob,” I sigh and make my way to the car. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
“’Urry up, Mam, innit,” Dad continues and climbs into the car. “I’m starvin’, blad.”
“You really need to stop now. Nobody sounds like that.”
“You do a little bit,” Mum points out. “Though you pronounce your words nicely.”
“For sure.” Dad flicks his fingers out, trying to make them snap.
Mum and I both roll our eyes; then she sticks her tongue out at me and I know we’re good again.
“Brrrrrap.”
“Dad!” I yell in a laughing tone. “You’re such a weirdo.”
This is exactly why he can never know about my situation.
Things will never be like this again. Ever.
As if agreeing with me, I feel a little flutter in my stomach for the first time ever and my hand flies to my belly. It moved. It just moved. If I was on my own, I’d probably be crying.
This is insane.
It’s real. It’s all becoming so real.
“I cannot wait for the lamb shank,” Mum sighs.
“I’m looking forward to the Italian flatbread thing,” I say; my cravings now include tomatoes and rocket leaves.
“I’m having the pie.”
“Adventurous,” I respond. “I love you both, you know that right?”
Gwen is already at her restaurant waiting for us at a table. She smiles and hugs my mum, kisses my dad’s cheek and then moves to me.
I can’t think of a way to avoid her embrace and it’s far too tight. So tight my stomach touches hers and I feel her tense, or at least I think I do. Fuck. Not good.