“Cool - can we have pancakes Mummy?”
“We can have anything you want gorgeous, but right now I need you to start thinking about your birthday list little guy - a little birdie told me that someone is turning three next month.”
“I’m not going to be three Mummy.” He giggles
“Oh sorry I meant thirteen.” I smile as he shakes his head at my silliness. “Not thirteen huh? Sorry, ten - yes that’s right, or was it seven?”
“Mummy, you know I’ll be four.”
“You most certainly will my angel and a pretty fantastic four you’ll be.” God he’d be starting school next year. My baby boy.
I chew my lip as my mind reverts back to the memory of the many completed pregnancy tests now safely tucked away in the inside zip of my bag.
Oh. My. God. I could be having another baby. Seb’s baby.
It’s all too much and far too soon. For me, for us. Isn’t it? Could we do this?
He’d made it very clear in The Maldives that he loved me - God, that had been the most romantic gesture anyone had ever done for me but he also made it just as clear that we wanted different things. He’d talked about long-term commitment as though it were something to be avoided at all cost - children at the forefront of that list.
I believe that he loved me; could feel it in his touch and kiss but what did that mean for us, for our future? Before I’d pee’d on a stick (or four) I could have reviewed this on a day-by-day basis, and just seen where this love of ours took us, but now everything had changed with that one pink line. Now, I had to evaluate things much sooner than I’d ever envisioned. I was going to come across as total honey-trapper.
I knew Seb had noticed I’d retracted into my shell again for most of the journey home; no matter how hard I attempted to put a brave face on I could feel myself withdrawing from him. His odd expression as I waved him away had been evidence of his hurt. That hadn’t been my intention but until I’ve sorted some kind of sketchy strategy in my head I can’t even begin to discuss the subject with him. He is such a dominator of all things, one sniff of my news and any thread of control I maintain at present will be snipped in an instant. No, tomorrow I’d talk about my options with my GP and make any necessary plans; find out where I stand. Right now I need to focus on the child I already have.
“Right monkey, any ideas about what birthday pressie you want this year?”
I’m about to head off to bed for the night, when I remember to grab the blueberries for Finn’s pancakes from the freezer - I’d have to do a big food shop tomorrow, on line if I couldn’t manage to get to the supermarket - I had nothing in. Downstairs in the basement kitchen, I flick the kettle on and grab the fruit from the top door of the SMEG, and place it on the island to defrost. Taking a pew on a stool and minute to just sit and stare into space, I listen to the comforting sounds of the boiling water and enjoy my safe haven. I loved this house but for the first time since I’d split with Niall and found my renewed independence I missed having a man around.
Who are you trying to kid? Not just any man - you miss Sebastian. It feels odd without him here with you after spending so much time together.
Chewing on my lip, something catches my eyes over near the bin and I frown - a scrunched empty coke can lay on the floor, just short of the swing bin, some of its liquid, spattered up the cream wall. What had happened there? My Mum must have had it but then missed when she put it in the bin. I grab a cloth from the sink and wipe the walls down, discarding the can in the bin - it’s only as it closes I see the pictures, torn and crumpled lying underneath the leftovers of tonight’s meal and an empty milk carton.
What the hell?
Abby’s smiling face, one eye missing where the photo had been ripped badly, looked up at me, the second piece was of Suzie, also a mess and totally irreparable. They were from the same picture. How strange. I rummage deeper, but I can’t find the third piece. I know it will be of me, as it was one of my favourite pics of the three of us, taken during a night out to celebrate Abby’s new job a few year’s back. What had happened?
I lift the milk carton out and find two further photographs, both torn and soggy, and stuck to the bottom of the plastic. They were also sabotaged and in disrepair. The first was of Sebastian and I during our graduation years ago, and now only Sebastian smiled up at me in his black mortarboard hat and the second was a group-shot of the night of Suzie’s birthday party a few weeks back - I’m not on this one either - torn from the edge. I wonder if Finn had been messing with them but he’d never done anything like this before.