Page 2 of Matrimonial Merger

“I know everything,” Mum said, satisfied. “I remember when you bought that. It’s beautiful on you.”

“I dunno.” I shook my head and held out the body con gown. “I feel bloated.”

“You’ll look lovely in it. Wear it,” Mum pleaded.

I tossed the Red Lanvin and black Dior down on the bed and stared at them.

“Are you feeling alright?” Mum asked, voice concerned.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Why does everyone keep asking that? Davey was ready to bring me back to Cal’s and tuck me into bed.”

“Because you look knackered. Are you sure you don’t need a nap.”

I let out a long sigh. “Do I need a nap? Yes. Will I get one? No. I have two hours to look perfect. It’s chaos.”

Mum turned me, pulling my chin to hers. She rotated my face one way, then the other. As she examined me down to the pores, I pulled back. “Mum, I amfine.”

“No, you’re not. Are you sick?”

“I’m not. I felt off this morning, but recovered by noon. I didn’t take anything. I think I’m just tired. I wanted to take a nap on my couch at lunch. I promise I will sleep better or something. It might be PMS?”

Mum grimaced. “PMS? You’ve never had PMS.”

“Mother, I absolutely have! I just don’t whine about it. I have terrible cramps?—”

“But are you on your period?”

I shrugged, “I don’t even know. Sometimes I don’t get big periods anymore. The pill helps.”

“And you’ve been taking them reliably?”

“Mostly,” I answered.

Mum left, turning and dipping into the bathroom I shared with my younger sister, Dahlia, in a past life.

Mum emerged. “I will do your hair.. But first? I need you to do something.”

“What?” I asked.

She handed me a pregnancy test. “Take this.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve spent all of my thirties trying to get?—”

“I will do your hair. Just take the test.”

I groaned, lamenting. Holding the test in my hands, I cursed this fate. These things haunted me—always gleefully laughing in my face. I flashed back to a time when it was constantly a no. No matter what science said, my ex always felt it was my fault. As many times as I’d cried alone in a bathroom afraid to leave it, this felt loaded.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I said. “Fuck it. Let’s just do this.”

I closed my eyes, turned my chin towards the test, then bravely looked. What faced me first sent a shock down my spine. Then, I covered my mouth, dumbfounded. A moment before, I was certain I’d be reliving the pain and stress of many past trials, but standing there, it fell away. I picked up the test, pulling it closer in disbelief.

“I’m… pregnant,” I whispered.

Saying it out loud finally made it real. But, as happy tears welled in my eyes, reality set in. This was good news—the news I’d wanted for more than five years—but it was also a bad time. We should have waited. I should have been better about my pills. And yet? I didn’t hate it. I only worried about the damage it could do to Cal.

Cal

“Are you sure Daphne wants to spend the day packing bags for needy children?” Jo asked, eyebrow raised.

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