by Cranford, B.
Talk to you soon!
B xoxo
15
Bianca
In my infinite wisdom, the first thing I did when I got back to my room after my doctor’s appointment was open my email to reply to a message from my mom. And there it was—the email still waiting for me from my ex-husband. The sick feeling in my stomach intensified and I wondered if it was pregnancy related, or if the idea of Mason reaching out was spinning me out of control a little.
Because I definitely felt out of control.
From: Mason Taylor ([email protected])
I ignored it long enough to send a brief, vague response to Mom’s request that I contact her—apparently, I wasn’t keeping a consistent enough schedule with that—then hovered my finger over Mason’s message. Coming close to tapping it but chickening out at the last minute, I instead grabbed the vitamins that Doctor Kaur had recommended I get from the pharmacy. I opened the box, thinking to start taking them right away, using them as a distraction.
“I have to, baby,” I said to the room and to the tiny, speck-like human already growing inside me. “The doctor said you’re fine”—she’d also recommended that I slow down and find a place to stay for several days before I start traveling again, because I was dehydrated and worn out from my trip to the red center—“but that I need the vitamins to make sure you stay that way.”
I felt a little stupid after I stopped talking, that I’d been conversing with a person who wasn’t even really a person yet. Just a jelly bean, really.
A cute little jelly bean that could grow up with my curls and Lucas’ accent.
Or with my accent and Lucas’ smile.
Or . . . so many different ways this could play out.
I swallowed the vitamin and flopped onto the bed, knowing that I should be calling Lucas, but not ready to do so. It felt like news this monumental and potentially life-changing—and by potentially, I mean, totally—should probably be given in person, but how?
How did I do that, without giving up the trip I’d left him to see through to its end?
I wasn’t sure I was ready to go back to Melbourne yet, even though I knew it was the logical choice and the sensible choice and the right choice.
Wait, no. Fuck that noise—it was only the right choice if I decided that it was. The doctor hadn’t said I needed to go there. I could keep traveling, as long as I took a short break. Lucas needed to know, that was unquestionable, but I didn’t have to tell him in person. Or even right away.
Did I?
Shit. Questions started swirling around my mind, none of them having one single right answer. I had choices—thank god, I had choices—but they felt endless and like none of them were all the way correct. Panicked, I grabbed my phone again and checked the time.
Late-ish, but not too late to call Ashton. Or my mom.
No, not my mom. Not right away, anyway. For starters, I’d already lied about why I went to the doctor. Well, not lied, but I didn’t give her the full facts either. As much as I loved my mother, I needed my best friend for this; someone with recent pregnancy experience, someone who knew about Lucas already, someone who I knew wouldn’t worry about me the way my mom would. Not that Ash wouldn’t worry. She’d just be a little more circumspect about it.
I hit the call button, telling myself that if it was a bad time, she just wouldn’t answer, and I wouldn’t be interrupting her evening. All the while, I was also telling myself to calm down, to stop stressing, that I didn’t need to make a decision or a plan immediately. Which might explain why, when Ashton answered, I just sort of blurted out my news.
It was awesome. #Not.
Her face appeared on screen, her mouth open to greet me, but I didn’t give her the chance.
“I’m pregnant. Lucas got me pregnant, and now I’m having a baby and I’m confused about when I need to make decisions and plans and I’m panicking a little.”
Her double-take was epic. I half wished I’d been screen recording so I could play it back for her in ten years when this moment was funny and not heart-and-panic attack inducing.
“Ashton?” I ventured, smiling to soften the word vomit that I’d spilled on her. Funny, it was usually her doing that to me. The role reversal probably shocked the bejesus out of her, so I decided to just wait it out and let her process.
Lord knows I needed time to process when Doctor Kaur had casually asked if there was any chance I could be pregnant.
Up the duff, if you wanted to use the delightful Aussie slang for it.
“Our babies are going to grow up together!” She accompanied her exclamation with a blinding smile and a little jiggle, which I could only assume was her version of a happy dance.
Her reaction—unexpected as it was—made me laugh and also gave me the added bonus of a moment of levity. Even when I’d felt happy at the doctor’s office, it had been weighed with something more, a knowledge that my life was in even more flux than it had been in when I’d first arrived in Australia. Giggling at her joy, I added both Kennedy, Ashton’s daughter, and her unborn sibling to my mental image of my baby.
My baby that might have Lucas’ sense of humor and my weakness for dark chocolate.
Ashton was the first of us to settle into more normal conversation. “Are you okay? Is that why you were sick? Tell me what happened. And then tell me how you’re feeling.”
Quickly, I told her about approaching the front desk about seeing someone, about Doctor Kaur and her musical way of talking and my panic attack before I’d even taken the test, and about the end result—a positive pregnancy test. “And honestly,” I added after taking a moment to let it all sink in, “I’m not sure how I’m feeling. That’s kind of why I’m calling you—I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Tell you how to feel? B, I love you endlessly, but I can’t do that.”
“I know, I’m just . . . confused.”
“About what? Tell me and we can talk it out.”
Experiencing an overwhelming urge to cry at Ashton’s unwavering support, I tried my best to explain. “I want to be happy, because it’s a baby and you know I wanted to start a family with Mason years ago. So, it’s not like I never wanted kids.”
“But.”
“Yeah, but. I’ve only known Lucas since about three days before we made a freakin’ baby and I don’t know how to handle that. I like him so much and we’re together, you know that. But it’s not like we’ve been together for years like me and Mason, and we decided we were ready for a baby.”
“Okay, that makes sense. But.”
I bounced my head in agreement of her “but,” pushing my hair back from my face and wishing I’d grabbed something to wrap around it to corral it. It was moments like this I almost regretted not getting it braided—a style I’d had in the past. “But I like the idea of a little person that’s part me and part him. I keep thinking about all the ways our baby could look or sound like us—like, what if it speaks like him? A little toddler with an Australian accent? How will I ever say no?”
“You know it’s okay to be conflicted, right?”
I made a noise of assent, waiting to see what else she might say next. But she stayed silent. It was clearly time to ask some of the harder questions I was struggling with. “How do I tell him? It’s not like I’m letting him know I’ve decided to go to Perth next—”
“Perth does sound nice, by the way. I looked it up.”
“—and can just drop it into a text. ‘I’m going to fly out on Friday and oh, hey, you’re going to be a daddy.’”
“You could do that, but you’re right it’s probably not the best idea.”
“But I’m not ready to go back to Melbourne and just stop seeing the country yet, which means I can’t exactly tell him in person.”
“You could go back for a few days, then head out again?”
“I-I don’t know if I could do that, Ash.” It wasn’t more than a whisper, but I could’ve shouted it and it would’ve had the same impact on me. She looked hopeful,
like maybe her solution had legs, but I knew the moment those words came out of my mouth that it wouldn’t work.
How could it? Lucas hadn’t wanted me to leave in the first place. I might not know him the way I thought I knew Mason, but I was dead certain that he wouldn’t want me to leave again after he found out about the baby.
And that’s not even considering the idea that I might not want to leave. Because, if I was honest with myself, there was a pretty good chance I’d see him again and lose the ability to walk away. Even if only temporarily. And that was the bigger problem—I could handle his objections, but I wasn’t convinced I could handle my own.
“I could call him, FaceTime him or whatever, but don’t you think that seems weird?”
“You FaceTimed me to tell me, so . . .”
“Yeah, but you’re not my baby daddy.”
“Sadly. We could’ve been amazing together.”
“So amazing. I blame Mason.”
Ashton laughed at that, nodding knowingly. “Yeah, that asshole. It’s definitely all his fault.” Her laugh cut off suddenly, her face pulling into a deep frown. “B?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you read his email yet?”
She didn’t have to say who. I knew what she meant, having rejected the idea of opening Mason’s missive barely ten minutes before I called her. Shaking my head, I turned my face away. I felt like crying and didn’t want her to see how the idea of that email—of what it might say—was hitting me.
Because it was hitting me harder and harder every time I thought about it. Which explained why I’d tried not to think about it at all. Not that I was succeeding on that front.
“Bianca. Sweetie, look at me.” Ashton’s voice was gentle, coaxing. It was warm like my mom’s and held all the affection I knew she had for me, and it only made me want to cry more. I suddenly felt so alone. In a small but pretty hotel room in a faraway country, I felt even more alone than I had when my marriage had fallen apart, and Mason had left me in our apartment with nothing but a bruised heart, a few material possessions, and no idea what to do next.
Turning my head back toward her, albeit slowly, I waited for her judgement.
“You don’t have to read it. You can delete it and forget he ever sent it. Report it as spam or block him, or whatever you need to do. You’ve earned that right.”
Her words echoed through my mind long after we said goodbye—with a promise from me that I would let her know if and when I told Lucas about the baby—but in the end, I couldn’t make myself delete or ignore the email. It was like there was a defect or something inside of me that was determined to let Mason have his say one more time, and I hated it.
I hated myself for not being able to let it go.
I hated myself for every one of the five hours it took me to finally open it.
Mostly, I hated myself for sending Lucas a message right before.
Bianca: So, I’m back in Darwin and heading to Perth next, but I need to talk to you soon. I have something to tell you.
The minute I hit send, I knew I’d made a mistake. Because the urge to open the email swelled until I had no choice but to click on the damn thing and finally find out what Mason had to say—and somehow I knew nothing would be the same after.
* * *
February 9, 2019
From: Mason Taylor ([email protected])
To: Bianca Evers ([email protected])
Subject: Pls. Read
Bianca,
I thought a lot about whether or not to send you this email, though knowing you, probably not as much thought as you gave to opening it. Assuming you didn’t flake out and are actually reading this, I thought you should know I’m getting married.
Perhaps you’re surprised, perhaps you’re not. But I felt like the only right thing to do was to share my news with you, even though I imagine it won’t be well received. Vanessa and I may only have known each other for a fraction of the time that you and I knew each other before we decided to get married, but what I feel when I’m with her is entirely different to what we had. She’s everything I ever wanted and didn’t have, and I’m looking forward to starting my life with her. Especially since she’s pregnant.
I’m sure you remember that I was reluctant to have children, but not with Vanessa. The idea of a child that looks like me or her or us both is welcome. My mom, I’m sure you can imagine, is beside herself.
I tried to contact you through your parents, who told me you’d taken off for Australia and some trip to “find yourself.” Though it seems like a useless kind of endeavor, exactly the kind I would expect you to undertake, I hope it works. For your sake. Despite your failings, finding Vanessa has made me see that everyone deserves a second chance.
Mason
* * *
The screen swam in front of my eyes, Mason’s harshly written notice of his impending marriage blurry but still devastating.
It shouldn’t be. I knew that. I knew it, and still it felt like I’d been run over by a cement truck after a ton of used—not new—bricks had been dropped on my head.
Not even my halo of hair could protect me from the crushing weight that my ex-husband had unleashed on me.
The idea of a child that looks like me or her or us both . . . My mom, I’m sure you can imagine, is beside herself. I didn’t need to imagine it—or even read between the lines—to grasp what he was saying, because his mother had been pretty damn clear about her thoughts on us having kids when the topic came up a year or two after Mason and I were married.
At the time, I’d thought I’d never forget, but . . . I had. Somehow, I had.
“Oh, people will never know that the baby is my grandchild.” The softly spoken words and the pointed look that had accompanied them rushed back. She’d said that—and then made a flippant remark about hoping we didn’t have a girl because her hair would be as unruly as mine.
Mason hadn’t said a word, and thinking back on it now, I realize that should have been the moment I walked away. Fuck, I should have at least thought about walking away. But I hadn’t. I’d made excuses for him, for his mother, and told myself that I didn’t really think that they really thought that way. There was no reason to, not when there was no other evidence of it. And so, I’d written it off as an unfortunate thing that had been said but not meant—not the way I’d taken it, at least—and moved on. And after that, we’d never discussed children around his mother again.
God, I should’ve known then that their contempt for me was real and insidious and would one day morph into something more painfully apparent.
Tightening my hand around my phone in a grip so strong I thought I might snap a tendon or crack the screen, I fought the urge to scream. It was the hardest task I’d ever undertaken. Instead, I let that trapped scream burn against the wall of my chest, crawling up and up and up, until it was a pulse in my head. A silent, hollow anger that bounced against my skull.
I ached all over as Mason’s voice formed the cold words of his email in my ear.
Despite your failings . . . everyone deserves a second chance.
Even you. He didn’t need to add that part—he knew that I’d do that for him, that the implication was enough to make me obsess about it.
Letting my eyes fall closed, I slumped down against the mattress, my hand coming to rest on my belly. Whether it was to quell my rioting stomach or because I was already trying to protect the life within, I didn’t know. And I didn’t care.
I couldn’t care, not while painful memories collided with cruel words to make an unbeatable monster of regret and hurt and doubt.
“You’re the one, Bianca. I didn’t realize it at first, but now I know, I can’t stop thinking about it. Our future. Our forever.”
She’s everything I ever wanted and didn’t have.
“Maybe if you smiled at me like you were happy to see me, like you cared whether I came home, then I wouldn’t have looked somewhere else for affection?”
What I feel when I’m with
her is entirely different to what we had.
“Trust me with your heart, Bianca. I promise I’ll take care of it.”
“You’re so angry at me, when you should be angry with yourself.”
I’m looking forward to starting my life with her. Especially since she’s pregnant.
“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” I gripped the sides of my head as a madness took hold of me. It was as though I’d lost all control of myself and my responses, as if Mason in all his forms—the one who loved me, who left me, who blamed me, who burned me—had infiltrated my mind. I couldn’t stop him from replaying all the best and worst things he’d ever said to me; I could only beg him to stop. “Stop talking, please stop talking.”
In hindsight, I should have known that a total collapse was inevitable. Despite all I’d done since I’d first found Mason with Lindsey—and it wasn’t lost on me that she wasn’t the bride he loved so much he just had to share with me—I don’t think I’d truly let it touch me.
I might’ve cried, mourned, raged, obsessed. But I’d never fallen apart and . . . is it strange to say that I think I needed to do that? That to find the me I was supposed to become, to piece myself back together as a woman who wasn’t Mason’s wife but rather her own damn person, I needed to shatter first.
Maybe. But that was my truth.
And that was why, when my phone rang out with three back-to-back messages from Lucas, I couldn’t bring myself to open them.
Because I feared that his response, no matter what it was, would make me feel like I’d swallowed the Grand Canyon.
And I’d already let one man open a yawning, sprawling, enormous spread of nothingness inside me.
16
Lucas
Lucas: You just said you’re going to Perth, so it’s not that you’re coming back to me, which sucks.
Lucas: But it’s something you want to tell me, so that’s good. Which begs the question: what is it?