The Aftermath by Gail Schimmel (books to read in a lifetime txt) 📗

her and feel her sink against my body. ‘It’s okay about the suits,’ I whisper. ‘You can just take them back tomorrow.’

She pulls away from me and looks confused. And then all hell breaks loose.

When we fought yesterday, I promised I wouldn’t walk out again, so this time I stay. But that doesn’t mean I’m prepared to take this hysteria. So I sit down on the sofa while Julia screams at me, and I allow my brain to drift away like I did when I was a child.

Eventually, she seems to run out of steam, so she stops and is almost panting slightly. It’s a little bit gross and a little bit sexy, and for a moment I consider scooping her up and just taking her to bed. But first, I’d better say something that makes it sound like I’ve been listening, even though I’m only really aware of the keywords she’s been repeating: ‘dry-cleaning’, ‘selfish’, ‘school’, and ‘Claire’.

‘You’re very irrational,’ I eventually say in a calm voice. ‘If this is what you’re like now, I’d hate to see you pregnant.’

And Julia is completely silent and then our eyes meet, and even though I’m sitting down, it feels like I am falling into a deep hole, and suddenly I know.

Julia

It’s not like I was deliberately keeping it from him. I’m barely sure myself. My period is late but it’s not the first time, and I’m on the pill so I couldn’t be pregnant. Granted, over the last few months I have been a bit all over the place and I forget to take it quite often. But I just catch it up, and that should work. I googled pregnancy symptoms and none of them applied, and with all the drama in the last two months of Daniel leaving Claire and us settling into living together and planning how to talk to my mother, I just kind of forgot about it. I haven’t even done a test, so I might not be pregnant. I probably haven’t had a period because of messing with the pill so much, I think.

But when Daniel blurts out that he wonders what I’ll be like when I’m pregnant, I know. Of course I’m pregnant. My period is more than just late, and I’m moody and tired and I feel a bit sick all the time. I thought it was because of all the other stuff, but I’ve been lying to myself.

Daniel sinks back in the sofa and puts his hands on his head, and I sink down into the armchair facing him.

‘I think I might be pregnant,’ I say in a small voice, like I haven’t just been screaming and this is all normal. I don’t mean to, but I start crying again. Before it was tears of anger, but now I don’t know what it is. I read somewhere that different tears have a different structure, and I think maybe these tears I’m crying are new to science.

‘You aren’t sure?’ I don’t know if the catch in Daniel’s voice is hope or exasperation.

‘I’ve been trying not to think about it,’ I say.

Daniel looks confused and I suppose from his point of view it is confusing. Claire probably had a pregnancy plan that she followed from the moment of conception.

‘Have you done a home test?’ he says.

‘No,’ I say. ‘They’re gross.’ I did one a few years ago, and peeing on the little stick is much harder than they make it sound. I got wee all over my fingers and I could smell it all day, no matter how many times I washed my hands.

‘Well, then go to the doctor or something,’ he says. ‘You can’t walk around not knowing. If you’re pregnant, we need to make decisions. For God’s sake, this isn’t some joke, Julia.’

I swallow. I can’t quite believe how mean he’s being.

‘I never said it was a joke,’ I say,

‘Well, then stop acting like a child. Do a test, or go to the doctor. I don’t care. Just sort this out.’

‘I’m really pretty sure that I am,’ I say. My voice is small.

‘And will we have it?’ he asks. ‘Or will you terminate? I believe it’s very painless.’

I can hardly process what he’s saying. It’s never crossed my mind that I would ever terminate a baby. I don’t think it’s wrong, but it’s never occurred to me that I’d be in this position. And now I am.

‘I think I want to keep it,’ I say.

I guess I should be glad that he’s the sort of man who asks what I want, although it’s clear what he’d prefer.

Daniel sighs. ‘Christ,’ he says. ‘But just go to the bloody doctor.’

WEDNESDAY

Claire

My day starts early. I get up before Mackenzie and make three lasagnes: one for me and Mackenzie to eat over the next two days because I know I’ll be too busy to cook; one for Liandri, who has a child in Mackenzie’s class and has just had a baby; and one for poor Mrs James down the road, who had her appendix out last week. Mrs James has no family and I try to visit her often. Today I’ll take her some new novels with the lasagne because I think she’ll like them, and I’ll feel better if she has something to do.

I wake Mackenzie up and we go through the usual drama of breakfast and getting dressed, which is a fraught business when you are six. Today Mackenzie wants a ponytail, but apparently not the ponytail I’m doing.

‘A different one,’ she says, but she can’t explain what she means and she starts crying.

I know from experience that I have to stay calm, and today I actually manage it, and eventually we find a hairstyle Mackenzie considers acceptable. She sprays almost a whole bottle of hairspray on it while I bite my tongue, and happiness is restored.

I get Mackenzie to school on time, but Mrs Wood looks at me like a storm cloud