And that’s exactly what I’ve done. And I thought I’d done a good job. So why is she looking so unsure all of a sudden?
Placing her make-up brush on the floor, she stares at me in the mirror, biting her lip, thinking. ‘Is it your head?’ I ask. ‘Do you still feel off?’ Oh shit, has she had a breakthrough and not told me, maybe because she’s shocked? Horrified? Or, worse still, questioning why she’s in this marriage? Piles and piles of reasons for her despondency all land on me at once, and I filter through the barrage, trying to narrow it down to anything obvious.
‘I’m pregnant.’
Everything except that.
There’s some kind of blockage happening between my brain and mouth, rendering me unable to speak. Pregnant? How? The blockage suddenly dislodges, and I immediately start shaking like a motherfucker, my body cold. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
Her eyes, sharp but cautious, study me in the reflection. ‘I . . . am . . . pregnant.’ This time, she spells it out, as if I didn’t catch the bombshell the first time.
Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.
‘Pregnant,’ I finally manage, swallowing hard. ‘How?’
She shrugs, looking a little timid. ‘The antibiotics, I think. Sometimes they interfere with the pill.’
‘Fucking hell,’ I all but breathe, slapping the ball of my fist into my forehead. The irony doesn’t escape me. It doesn’t escape Ava either, going by the slight twist of her lips. When we met and she turned my world upside down, I spent weeks sneakily stealing her pills in a wild and reckless mission to get her pregnant to ensure I could keep her for ever. It was no accidental pregnancy, not on my part, anyway. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing, either. I adore my kids, wouldn’t be without them. But it doesn’t mean I want more.
‘I knew you wouldn’t take it well.’ Her soft murmur breaks into the bedlam that is my thoughts.
I’m astounded by her calmness. Why isn’t she spiralling into meltdown with me? ‘I’m fifty, Ava.’ I get up and start pacing the room. ‘I’m way too old to be a dad again.’
‘No, you’re not.’ My wife sounds irked, and I look to find she really is, her face bunched, annoyed. ‘Parents are getting older all the time.’ She shrugs. ‘At least that’s what my midwife said.’
‘You’ve been to the midwife?’ Without me? ‘When?’
‘I got a taxi to the doctor’s office after you dropped me at yoga yesterday. I needed to be sure before I gave you the news that I knew would send you into orbit.’
Orbit? How about another fucking galaxy? ‘Pregnant!’ I bark for the sake of it. ‘I can’t believe this.’ It’s really sinking in now, visions of Kate and Sam’s weary faces since Betty arrived popping into my mind.
I’ve done my time. My days of shitty nappies and sleepless nights are done with. ‘Oh my God,’ I sputter, marching to the bathroom and punching the shower on, muttering all kinds of nonsensical shit as I strip down. I get under the spray and hope the cold water will wake me up from my nightmare.
‘You’re taking it rather well,’ she quips, appearing beyond the shower door, watching me scrub every inch of my body.
‘Ava, let’s put this into perspective.’ I get close to the screen so she can see just how fucking panicked I am. ‘When this baby is ten, I’ll be nearly sixty-one.’ I shudder. Fuck me, I’ve only just got used to fifty. That’s a lie. I’m not used to it at all, and, in fact, in my mind I’m still actually forty. Sixty? I’ll blink and it’ll be here. ‘The twins will be in university and I’ll be taking our youngest to school on a fucking mobility scooter.’
I want to cry, whereas Ava just sighs, letting me babble on. Good. I have plenty to say. ‘And I’ll have to make at least three stops on the way to piss because my old bladder won’t be able to hold a cup of coffee for longer than ten minutes.’ I stagger back, out of breath, half assisted by my panic, half assisted by my spew of words without catching my breath. This is awful!
‘You’re being ridiculous.’ She stalks off, leaving me heaving like a worn-out racehorse, all alone in the cold shower. ‘I have the scan on Tuesday. Come if you want, and if you don’t want to that’s fine. Don’t think I can’t do this on my own.’
And just like that, I’m snapped out of my meltdown. She’ll do it on her own? Without me? I flinch, the thought more than stinging. And then I frown to myself, wondering what on earth has got into me. And I think really hard. I think about what the actual issue here is, and it isn’t another baby being around. It’s me. My issue. That damn fucker called age. That’s the problem. That’s what’s got me all in a pickle. It has nothing to do with being a daddy again. But everything to do with my stupid complex.
And maybe another factor is the thought of having another someone to worry about. More anxiety. Fuck, another person to obsess about will be a strain that could finish me off. My heart’s speeding more just thinking about it.
I breathe in and breathe out, trying to talk myself down. And I think about Ava’s face just now. How calm and serene she seemed, even when I tipped the meltdown scales.
‘Fuck,’ I mumble. Can I do this? I look to the bathroom door. Can I do this for Ava? Good Lord, I have to. I can get over all of my issues because I want my wife to be happy. Especially now. Especially after everything. She needs this. Maybe I do, too. And the kids. Something special and new to focus on.
I drag my hands down my scratchy cheeks. ‘God damn you, Ward,’ I say to myself, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. I have some serious sucking up to do. I feel like a total wanker.
‘Ava?’ I say timidly, creeping into the dressing room. She has the wide-leg trousers of her navy Ralph Lauren suit on, a cream silk shirt held against her front. And she’s watching me. I’m about to launch into my apology, but she beats me to it.
‘We may have laughed about it that time when we visited Betty, but you know what? I’m happy this has happened. I’m thrilled, in fact. Maybe this is just what we need. All of us. Me, you and the kids. A new life to channel our energy and attention on. Something to look forward to. Something to distract us from the shit storm of the past couple months.’ She breathes in and shoves her arms through the sleeves of her shirt, while I remain still in the doorway, feeling so ashamed. She’s thinking the same as me, though she got there a lot quicker than me, clearly. She’s been sitting on this since yesterday. She’s been scared to tell me, and I’ve just demonstrated every reason why. ‘But don’t you worry your fifty-year-old head, Ward.’ Reaching out, she yanks the cropped jacket of her suit down and shoves it on, fixing the collar of her blouse. ‘We’ll be fine without you.’
‘Jesus, enough with the knives to my fucking heart, woman. The first did enough damage.’ But every man at some time in his life needs putting in his place. And for me, no woman on this planet could ever do it better than my wife.
‘You asked for it.’ She storms past me, but I just catch her wrist, jolting her to a stop. Both of us silent, I take her by the waist and lift her onto one of the cabinets, muscling my way between her thighs. Her face is sulky as I claim her hands and put them on my shoulders. ‘Snap out of it.’
‘That’s rich coming from you,’ she snorts, flexing her fingers on my wet shoulders, her eyes focused there. I inwardly smile. ‘Imagine life without me,’ I tell her, and she physically jolts. ‘Not nice, is it?’
‘What’s your point?’
‘My point is you shouldn’t say you’ll be fine without me, because you won’t be. And neither will I without you.’
She breathes out, exasperated. ‘Anyone would think I’d just told you I have one month to live.’ Her twitch is immediate, and so is my growl. ‘Sorry,’ she squeaks, lips pressed together, probably a ploy to stop her saying any more stupid shit.
‘Don’t think because you’re pregnant I won’t slap your arse silly.’