Page 9 of Because of Them

From the day Maisie came out, announcing her presence with the most beautiful wail, Callum and I knew we were done having kids. It wasn’t what I originally wanted, and we’d fought over it time and time again. But pregnancy was hard, and deep in the midst of my twelve-hour labour I said never again. I backflipped a few times, but Callum stood his ground.

As the days, then months and years went on, I became happier, more content with our decision to be a ‘one and done’ family. Maisie was our world. But I also enjoyed the freedom that only having one child brought. I could progress my career without having a massive gap on my resume. Finding a babysitter was easier. Daycare fees were lower. Everything worked.

I guess I should count my blessings that the little bean currently growing inside me will arrive right as Maisie will be starting primary school. Although juggling drop offs and pick ups around naps and feeds will probably be a nightmare. Intruth, there’s probably norighttime to have a second child. Doing it all alone only adds another layer of complexity, and the thought of handling all the sleepless nights and never-ending days on my own gives me a headache.

There’s probably a wrong person to have one with though. And it’s not that I don’t like Michael. It’s just that I don’tlikehim. Not in the way I should considering we are about to become parents. I can’t even picture him taking proper care of himself, let alone a tiny baby. How would he go sacrificing his sleep, his sanity, his gym time, to put the needs of a child above his own?

Callum and I weren’t right together, at least not anymore, but at least he is a good father. I wish I could say the same about Michael, but I don’t see how it will work. Sure, he has his own way of showing that he cares: the little gifts he used to bring me and the way his touch always lingered on my lower back as we walked. But being a parent is so much more than that. It’s givingeverythingfor this little baby.

When I tried to tell him this morning, I clammed up, not knowing the words to say. I have no idea how to break the news that his whole world is about to change. What if he doesn’t want to be a father? Technically, there are options for us, but not for me. I may be scared and confused and overwhelmed by the fact I’m having another baby, but somehow it also feels right. I can’t bear the thought of Michael not feeling the same way.

When he laughed his way through our terrible catch up, I got the feeling he wouldn’t be ready for this massive change. And that only made it harder to tell him. I know I should have; I know I need to. But the air was too sweet from the giant floral wall of the café, too warm from all the bodies trying to escape the harsh winter chill outside. I couldn’t breathe.

My stomach clenches, a new wave of nausea crashing through me like a train. I heave over the waste bin, emptying my stomach of the apple I just finished eating.

I guess I do actually vomit after all.

Dropping to the floor, I curl my knees up to my chest, squeezing my arms tight around my legs. I was never this sick with Maisie. So sick it hurts.

I wish I had someone to rely on in times like these. Even when I finally tell Michael about the baby, it hurts knowing that he still wouldn’t be here when I need him to be. He would still always be a phone call away, never around to rub my back or fetch me some ginger ale.

Stretching back up as the nausea begins to wane, I head to the kitchen to get my own fizzy drink. The bubbles tingle their way down my throat, settling below my ribcage and massaging my twisted insides.

The steady thumping of a hammer next door has quietened, replaced by the occasional screech of a power tool and laid-back laughter of a dad and his sons. Through the noise, the crunch of tires on gravel drifts in the open kitchen window. Looking out, down the driveway, I see Callum returning with Maisie from their extra day together. His new girlfriend still cowers in the front seat, pulling her hair up as Callum parks the car behind mine. I don’t blame her for being cautious of me. I wasn’t exactly friendly for a while.

Now that I can appreciate what the two of them share—meaning, now that I’m over my initial jealousy—I’m happy for them both. I hope we can fall into an easy co-parenting team, and more than that I hope we can even consider each other friends. She seems nice, and Maisie adores her.

I step out to meet them, painter’s apron still wrapped over my clothes and ginger ale still firmly clasped in my hands. The small porch is surrounded by roses planted by Callum’s sister, with fruit trees lining the long narrow driveway. The block and house are small, but when Callum and I first found it, we fell in love with the little cottage propped in between townhomes.A little slice of the suburb’s history that we wanted to claim for ourselves. It’s all mine now, after the divorce, but I still see little bits of Callum everywhere. Even after I changed the photos on the wall, and the pillows on the couch. I bought a new bed and changed all the linen, rearranged the living space and spread my paints further into the sunroom. But the ghost of our relationship still hangs around.

I’m not sad about our marriage breaking down, at least not anymore. We were good, great even, until we weren’t, and then it was time to move on. Living in this house, though, is like being trapped in time. I had been planning to find something else eventually, but with a new baby coming it feels like all too much, all at once.

“Mummy!” Maisie runs from the car, colliding with my legs before continuing into the house. I’ll have to figure out what to cook for her dinner soon.

“How was your date?”

Callum and Cassidy walk hand in hand towards me. My face crumples as a thick lump forms in my throat. Clutching at my stomach, I attempt to stretch my expression back into something that oozes comfort and friendliness. I’m sure I fail.

“Yeah, um, it was … great.” My voice pitches unnaturally.

Cassidy steps away from Callum, eyes wide, folding her arms across her chest.

“Do you paint?”

Her change of topic catches me by surprise, and I stumble over my answer. “Yes,” I croak as I finally form the word. “Well, kind of. Just for fun.”

“She’s pretty good,” Callum’s kind words surprise me. Although we get along now, I’m still wrapping my head around the whole ‘being friends with my ex-husband’ thing.

“I’d love to see them, one day.” She turns towards the open door, calling through the house. “Bye Maisie!”

My daughter’s voice echoes down the hallway, “Bye Cassidy! Bye Daddy!”

Cassidy’s chocolate hair is swept back into the kind of messy mum bun I always longed for. My thin hair never cooperated though, so I gave up. In a way it forced me to always have my hair a little more styled than I have time for, but when I’m feeling as crap as I do now, I’d give anything for the quick easy throwaway style.

She tips between her heels and toes, hands on her hips. Eyes darting between Callum and me, she whistles under her breath. We might all be on friendly talking terms, but this drop off seems particularly strained. It was awkward enough when they came to pick Maisie up and Cassidy didn’t want to get out of the car. I don’t know if it’s worse now that we are all left standing on the porch.

It’s the first time I’ve had to call on Callum to watch Maisie on an extra day. The first time I interrupted their day in this way. But also, even though I know it’s not the first time they have spent time together, it’s the first time Cassidy has been here to drop Maisie off. Despite how I know Cassidy feels about taking on a motherly role—meaning she doesn’t want it to have that kind of label—it still feels a little like that’s what happened today. It’s too much like the new mother figure in Maisie’s life is dropping her back off with the old one. The lonely one.

“Well,” I say, sucking in a deep breath and attempting to break the weird tension. “Thank you for having her today.”

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