Page 35 of Because of Them

“Hey, I look after two dogs all the time when my parents are out of town. I can handle two babies.”

Audrey laughs against me. Her body relaxes into the embrace and she squeezes her arms out from between us to wrap them around my middle.

“Michael?”

I hum into her hair, enjoying the breathlessness in her voice a littletoomuch.

“You know babies areverydifferent from dogs, right?”

AUDREY

The phone rings out, but the second the vibrating stops, it starts up again with a new call. Same as it did two minutes ago. It hasn’t stopped since I said goodbye to Michael, reassuring him that I was okay and he should get back to work.

I’m not okay though, and with each gentle whir from my bag the throbbing in my temple grows a little louder. The dread that began to settle in the dim light of the ultrasound clinic pulses through me. There’s no way the person calling is bringing good news, and I know I shouldn’t worry about the what ifs but they are the only thoughts left in my brain.

Is it Michael calling to tell me this is all too much? That he never signed up for one baby, let alone two, and he is done playing pretend.

Or maybe it’s my mother, calling with good intentions to ask how the ultrasound went. She’s been overbearing and smitten ever since I finally told her I was pregnant. The latest display of that, a giant hamper of baby goods, still sits fully wrapped on the entry table. She’s probably ready to beg me to send her the photos of her precious grandchild. But if it is her, I’m not ready for that conversation. How do I tell her that instead of one surprise baby I’m having two? And I’m pretty sure my baby daddy is even more freaked out than me, and I’m freaked outa lot.

Most likely though, it will be my boss, calling to ask where I am, because I told him I would come in as soon as the appointment was over, but the appointment ran late and I came home instead. He’d acted like a hero when he said I could have the morning off for my appointment, but the side serving of a passive aggressive reminder that I’ll just have to work harder to clear my inbox in the afternoon gave away his misogyny. It grates on me, but right now I don’t have it in me to care. I have no appointments scheduled and frankly, my inbox can wait.

Two babies.

Two.

My heart starts to gallop again. Walking to the kitchen and dumping my bag on the island bench, I stare down at the ultrasound pictures in my hand. Twin A written in tiny, bold font on the top photo. Twin B on the other. Which twin did we see in the first two ultrasounds?

Holding the photos next to the earlier one I keep on the fridge, I squint my eyes. The photos are far from clear and the profiles all look the same. To be expected, really, considering they are identical. I doubt I’ll ever know which baby I saw first. I wonder if I’ll be able to tell my babies apart.

I wonder if Michael will. I wonder if they will look more like me, or more like him. I wonder how often they will see theirfather, what kind of relationship they will have. Will he want to parent them the same way I do? Will he take them for weekends at a time, dropping them back loaded with sugar or emotional trauma? He said he will always be there, but for how long? When will he realise that his life has changed far too much, and he doesn’t want it anymore?

When will he realise that being tied to me is not as muchfunas it used to be?

Nausea hits me harder than ever before, squeezing my stomach and clawing at my throat. Dropping to my hands and knees, I rest my head against the cool stainless steel of the fridge. My body heaves but, thankfully, for the first time in a long time, I manage to keep the contents of my stomach where they belong. It takes an age for my muscles to recover, to loosen again. But my back continues to ache from the hunched over position, and my knees protest when I use the kitchen bench to pull myself up.

My bag vibrates all over again and I groan, conceding that I have to check who it is. At best, so I can ignore the call for a while longer. At worst, so I can tell my boss I’m not coming in today.

Brett Harper—Harper Smith Real Estate

His name flashes across the screen and Cassidy’s words ring in my ear.You deserve to be thrilled about what you do for a living.But if not this, then what. Then art? But how would I pay the bills, how would I put food on the table? I don’t want to rely solely on child support and single parenting allowances.

My hand shakes as my thumb sweeps across the screen to answer the call and I bring the phone up to my ear.

“Brett.” The name comes out with more hatred than I intended, and I pray he hasn’t picked up on my joyless attitude.

“Audrey, just checking in. Figured the appointment would be done by now but haven’t seen you at your desk yet.”

He speaks all snappy and sharp, and my jaw clenches at the way he drawls out my name.

“I was about to call you, actually. I just got home and—”

“Home?” He cuts me off and I want to scream at him that I deserve to be listened to. “I thought you were coming straight back. Your calendar looks empty but there is always work to do. I’m sure you have hundreds of potential clients in your inbox.”

“I’m sure I do, Brett, but I had some … unexpected news at the appointment. I need to take the full day as personal leave. Just while I process and figure everything out.”

“Unexpected? Ah well. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Anyway, I guess if you aren’t coming in, we’ll have to chat on the phone.”

I swallow down the rising anger.How dare he?

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