Page 69 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
What would I normally do in these circumstances? I’d be in that cubicle patting a back or holding back hair. Is she crying? Is she that sort of hungover person? Meg used to cry through a bad hangover, disowning me for not having controlled her alcohol intake. The door slowly opens and she stands there, all that good foundation work possibly ruined. I rummage about in my handbag to offer her a muslin but she refuses and heads straight to the sink to wash her hands.
‘Are you alright?’ I ask.
She breaks into tears. ‘Yeah, perfect,’ she replies sarcastically.
‘Look, I’m just trying to be nice.’
She scans my face. ‘Where’s Joe?’
‘With Giles.’
She can’t seem to keep the emotion in. The tears well up as quickly as they roll down her cheeks. Hugging her would be weird right now, especially as I am so much shorter than her that I’ll come up to her breasts. She puts two hands on the sink, hangs her head down and makes a low humming noise.
‘Seriously, are you—’
And then like some mountain geyser comes more puke. From a place deep within her soul. There is splashback but Joe has given me enough experience to know when to jump backwards really really quickly. She takes the muslin this time and I hope she knows she can keep that.
‘Big night?’
She gives me a look that seems vaguely annoyed. Is this drug or alcohol related? Or is this a lurgy thing? Eating disorder? She tries to stand up but struggles and sways.
‘I’ve got a dodgy tummy.’
‘Then we should cancel today, right? Prevent people catching stuff?’
‘I don’t cancel,’ she says firmly, holding the muslin to her mouth. ‘Did you have this when—’ She stops before she finishes her sentence.
‘When, what?’ I ask.
‘With Joe?’
It’s early and I’m trying to piece these thoughts together. Do I get sick like that? We’ve all puked like that at some point in our lives. I went Euro-railing at sixteen and once yacked in a wellington boot after ten shots of Jägermeister. How does this involve Joe? Have I ever thrown up when I was with Joe? Yes, when I was—
‘Oh, holy shit. You’re pregnant?’ I exclaim.
She looks sheepish that I’ve just said those words into the air, like she’s worried they may escape elsewhere. She awaits my reaction but I appear to react quite flatly. There are many questions and statements that encircle me. Which to ask? How far along are you? Have you eaten today? Your baby will bereallytall. What about that dad you were snogging at the video shoot? I opt for the congratulatory route.
‘Wow, that’s good news though? A baby?’
‘Is it?’
‘Usually. You should tell everyone out there too because they think you’ve been on a bender.’
‘You can’t!’ she snaps, horrified.
I hold my hands up as she does. It’s not like I was going to broadcast it with a megaphone.
‘I…I need to get used to this myself. Decide what to do…’
Those words make me pause for a moment. I remembered when I first found out I was pregnant. It was a decision. Do I take this moment to turn my life down a different path? But I think about if Joe wasn’t here. For all the change he’s brought to my life, he has added colour, adventure. I can’t imagine being without him now. This could be a good thing, Yasmin. At least allow yourself to extract some joy from the situation.
‘They can think what they want out there, I don’t care. Please keep this to yourself for now. I should never have told you. You’re not good at keeping your mouth shut.’
‘Excuse me?’ I reply.
‘You’ve obviously told Giles about Harry?’
‘I haven’t actually.’
