Page 13 of Because of Them

I stand a little taller, pulling my shoulders back and dropping my hands from where they were resting. But the movement creates a new tsunami through my gut. Falling to my knees,I crouch around the toilet, but this time, nothing comes. My stomach is already empty.

“No,” I finally choke out. “No, I am not.”

Cassidy drops to the floor beside me, squeezing herself between the toilet and the wall. I can’t comprehend how she fits in the tiny gap, but she does. One knee squishes against her chest and the other stretches out along the floor towards the sink.

She’s so … little. No, that makes her sound like a child. Petite. The delicate features of her face match the gentle, natural wave in her hair, which gives way to her dainty frame. So unlike me. I’m all sharp and pointy in the face. Thin eyebrows thanks to the combination of my pale hair and spending my teenage years plucking them into spindly lines. Pointy nose, sharp cheekbones. I used to have a defined collarbone and a figure like Cassidy’s, but motherhood had other plans. It took me a long time to find comfort in my new column shape.

Eventually I grew to accept it, just like I’m sure I’ll grow to love whatever shape my body ends up in after this pregnancy too. But I can’t help wondering if my marriage would have failed so easily if I’d managed to get back to my pre-baby body.

It’s a pointless thought. One I know has no standing. But I can’t help thinking about it anyway. Damn hormones.

“Do you, ah, want to talk about it?”

I pull my head away from the toilet to rest my cheek on the cool tiled wall. “Not really. Kind of.”

Cassidy just shrugs, reaching a hand across the toilet to rest it on my shoulder.

“I know it might be weird, considering, well everything. But we can talk.”

Yeah, it would be weird. But strangely, I do really want to talk to her. There is something about her kind green eyes that calls to my sorrows, promising me everything will end up okay.

“Maisie is going to be a sister.” The words fall out of my mouth on a bated breath, and I realise it’s the first time I’ve acknowledged the fact out loud.

Sure, I made appointments with doctors and ultrasound facilities. But it was somehow different. I was simply stating that I was pregnant, as though my subconscious knew I had a choice to make. Never mind the fact the choice was already made.

Cassidy remains silent, her thoughtful expression twists uncomfortably. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she toys with the ring on her forefinger. The flower spins against the pad of her thumb, filling the tiny room with its gentle hum.

“You’re …?”

Her question fades away before she has the courage to voice it. I nod as I push my hair off my face and lean against the opposite wall.

“It was, well, it was a bit of a surprise. I’m still gathering my thoughts, but the morning sickness doesn’t care if I’m still coming to terms with it.”

“Who’s the … wait no sorry, don’t answer that. It’s not my business.”

Her voice shakes, and her eyes begin to glisten. Before a single tear can fall, she blinks away the moisture with a deep inhale. Cassidy presses her thumbs to her temples, then brings a hand down to tap at her chest. Just the same way Callum does when he feels overwhelmed.

“Can I help? Can we help?”

At her kind offer, my own tears erupt. They rush down my cheeks, dripping tiny wet patches onto my white blouse. I bat away the streaks as I swallow down the hard lump forming in my throat. For the first time since I saw those two little pink lines, I feel seen. Just a simple offer of support, and I no longer feel alone. An overwhelming sense of relief rushes through me and I fight the urge to lean across the toilet to hug her. My ex-husband’s new girlfriend. The woman who, by design, I should not get along with, has somehow become the first person I confided in.

But truthfully, she’s the only person I feel safe talking to. As though I knew, deep down, somehow, that she wouldn’t judge.

Unlike the women from Maisie’s Mother’s Group, or the other parents from Maisie’s kindergarten. The so-called friends who love to bitch and gossip as soon as someone leaves the room. The mothers who flit around in happy couples, celebrating the arrival of their second and third, and even fourth, children. I can’t stand the pity in their eyes on Friday mornings when they overhear me tell Maisie her dad will pick her up. It’s almost as bad as the way they pat my shoulder when I come to pick her up after she has been with Callum for the week. “Oh, you must havemissedher so much,” they whine. Or, “I justcouldn’tbe away from my kids for a whole week,” as though I chose this. I hate this, but they don’t care. As long as it’s not them.

I can’t imagine telling any of them that I’m pregnant. That I’m not with the father and that I’m not sure he would ever want to be a father and I have no idea what the future looks like for us.

“Thank you,” I whisper to Cassidy, reaching a hand towards her.

She takes it, squeezing my fingers between her own as we push ourselves to stand.

“I feel like I’m failing,” I admit. Because I do. I had everything planned out, and one by one, all those plans are crumbling. It started with my marriage to Callum, then it was my fleeting relationship with Michael. And now this.

This feels like the biggest failure of them all, to fall pregnant when I’m not in a relationship and I didn’t want a second child.

“I usually hate when people tell me that everything will be okay,” she says. “Because really, who the fuck knows that? So, Iwon’t say it. But I will tell you that you are not alone. In some weird way, we’re family now.”

Straightening my cardigan across my shoulders, she smiles at me. Her mossy eyes glitter with golden flakes, squinting together as she sees through my pain and into my deepest dreams.

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