Almost Forever Read online

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she asks, her voice a little unsteady.

  ‘Not sure, really,’ I answer, trying to blink the fog away. I shift my weight, trying to make myself comfortable, but my left side really hurts so I return to my previous position.

  ‘Do you want to sit up a bit more?’ she asks after watching me struggle.

  ‘Yes please,’ I beg her and she helps me up, adjusting the pillows behind me.

  ‘Water?’

  I shake my head. For the first time in weeks I’m not feeling thirsty, which is a revelation. My mouth doesn’t feel dry; my tongue is not made of sandpaper.

  ‘How’s Paul? Is he all right?’ I ask, hoping for good news.

  ‘They are monitoring him very closely so you don’t have to worry,’ she answers, speaking slowly and clearly as if she understands that my mind is working at a slower pace than it’s used to. I swallow the relief of her words and try to remember what happened. Why I’m the one in a hospital bed.

  ‘Fran,’ she says. ‘You need to look after yourself right now. Paul has the best doctors watching him every second of the day, so you have to promise me that you’ll eat regular meals and try to relax, sleep, and rest when you feel tired.’

  ‘I’ll try. I think that maybe I’ve stretched myself too much …’ I tell her, remembering how wobbly I felt in Dr Stewart’s office, but I don’t really remember the details of what happened next.

  ‘You think?’ she says with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Okay, I did push the boundaries but Paul needed me.’ The thought of Paul’s aneurysm threating to rupture makes me want to run to him, but when I try to sit up my head spins and my side aches. Georgie frowns at me so I lie back again.

  ‘Where do you think you are going?’ Georgie asks rhetorically. We both know exactly where I want to be. ‘You passed out, banged your side against Dr Stewart’s desk then collapsed on the floor,’ she says.

  I rub at my ribs and wince at the pain, glad that can be easily explained.

  ‘I bet that from now on Harry will go around boasting about women swooning at his feet thanks to you.’

  I smile at her attempt at a joke.

  ‘Do you want me to call your dad? Maybe Becca?’ Georgie asks, but I shake my head. ‘No point to make them worry. It’s just fatigue. I need to sleep,’ I tell her but I can see in her expression that there is something else.

  ‘What is it?’ I ask her, suddenly worried that something may be wrong with me. I can see she is struggling to find the right words to tell me what she knows.

  ‘You’re pregnant, Fran,’ she says, taking my hand. ‘They assumed I knew and asked me about it.’

  ‘Pregnant?’ I repeat as if I don’t understand the meaning of the word.

  She squeezes my hand softly, and I return my attention to her voice as she says, ‘Yes, Fran. You are having a baby.’

  At those words, I’m submerged by so many different emotions it’s hard to know which one to explore first. I’m pregnant with Paul’s baby, I think ecstatically, but then the enormity of it shakes me with fear. Unable to address those feelings right now I default to disbelief.

  ‘But how?’ I ask Georgie, as if she should know the answer. ‘I’m on the pill …’ I tell her, but remember that I haven’t taken one since the day Paul was assaulted. I had just forgotten about it. That little commitment was thrown out of my life, together with studying, and regular dinners, and enough sleep. I can picture exactly where I put it, in a pile together with all the other stuff that Becca brought for me that I haven’t touched in weeks.

  ‘I said that to the doctor and he thinks maybe when you were sick in Paris it may have impacted its effectiveness,’ Georgie says and I can see she’s struggling to cope with the feelings this news is bringing. She is keeping a straight face but her eyes are smiling.

  I nod at her, suddenly feeling a little excitement inside my chest. ‘So, the sickness, on top of the fact that I’ve stopped taking the pill altogether, has done the rest, and now, I’m having a baby,’ I say with a grin and the knowledge that I’m expecting a baby!

  Then the exhilaration is suddenly dampened by doubts.

  ‘I don’t feel pregnant,’ I confide to Georgie while my heart fills with worry. ‘Shouldn’t I know if I was pregnant?’ I ask her. She lifts her shoulders as if to say, ‘How would I know?’

  ‘I always assumed that one would feel ‘the miracle of a life growing inside them’,’ I say, using my fingers to air quotes. ‘You know, feel the bond with your unborn child from the very first moment?’ I say, slightly disheartened.

  ‘I think you’ve had a lot on your mind, and given that it wasn’t planned, you just missed the signs,’ she says reassuringly. At her words, I rub my stomach, trying to establish a connection with the baby growing inside of me. A little part of Paul, alive inside me. I can’t stop the smile that tugs at my lips at that thought.

  Children are hope – I remember someone said that to me once.

  Maybe this is the miracle I was looking for.

  I imagine our baby falling asleep in Paul’s arms, as he sits in the armchair we would put in his or her little bedroom. I can picture all of us on our first family holiday, a beautiful toddler waddling on the shore, trying to catch the waves, paddling in and out of the water with tiny little feet leaving small footprints behind. I cannot wait for Christmas morning when we could all curl up in front of the log fire, under the big tree, and open the presents, while eating ginger biscuits.

  We will create our little traditions and read stories at bedtime and spend rainy Sunday afternoons watching Disney movies snuggled up on the sofa. In front of my eyes I see the first day of school with a new pristine uniform that would only be immaculate for a few hours, and the first tooth lost biting into an apple, and the first bike ride without stabilisers, and so on for the rest of our lives. I wish for my child to have Paul’s incredible eyes that I love so much and his blond curls. Then the dream disappears when Georgie brings me back to reality with the practicalities.

  ‘Fran, the doctor would like to check the baby, to make sure everything looks all right.’

  ‘Why? Is something wrong?’ I ask, alarmed, immediately realising how real this baby is becoming and how the thought of starting a family with Paul is my focus now.

  ‘You bled a little when you passed out,’ she answers. ‘The doctor said that spotting is common in early pregnancy but they just want to check that everything is okay. Especially with the stress you’ve been under and the fact that you were dehydrated.’

  I’m too worried to say anything. I need this baby to be all right. This is my miracle – the news that’ll bring Paul back to me.

  Georgie can sense my distress. ‘Shall I call the nurse?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes, yes please,’ I say and then when she leaves the room I stroke my tummy again, where my baby is now growing. I whisper endearments in a reassuring, soothing voice.

  ‘She’s coming. She should be here in a moment,’ Georgie says, walking back into the room.

  ‘Thank you, Georgie.’ I smile at my best friend who has been with me through all the most important moments of my life. I lift my hand to her, and she squeezes it reassuringly.

  True to her word, the nurse appears a couple of minutes later to take me to the sonographer.

  I’m apprehensive, but, as it turns out, the exam is quick and straightforward.

  ‘This is the baby’s heartbeat …’ says the sonographer, pointing at a tiny black and white dot flickering on the screen. ‘Nice and strong, just like we want to see,’ she says and her voice keeps reverberating inside my head long after I’m back in my room.

  Georgie’s holding my hand tightly, as we watch the screen, seeing that little blob that is the beginning of something incredibly special. A silent tear falls down my face, as I dare to believe that there is happiness in my future. When I’m back in my room, all I can think of is that I’m desperate to tell Paul about our news, about our baby.

  ‘I want to
go to Paul,’ I say to Georgie as soon as the nurse leaves us.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asks Georgie. ‘The doctor suggested you stay here, overnight, for observation.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’m not even leaving the hospital – I’ll just be one floor away,’ I say.

  ‘I think you’ll still have to discharge yourself against medical advice, even if you aren’t going far,’ she states and because of the look she gives me, I feel the need to reassure her that I’m not being reckless. ‘I promise I’ll look after myself. I’d never do anything to put this baby at risk.’ I caress my non-existent baby bump with my hand.

  ‘I know that, and I’ll be here for you every step of the way to help, so count on me, okay?’ she promises, laying her hand on top of mine, and in that moment I know that this baby will be spoiled rotten.

  ‘I’ll get the paperwork,’ she suggests. Her voice is full of emotion again. I nod with a big smile and my heart beating with excitement.

  She returns with the discharge documents in one hand and a pen in the other.

  ‘Shall I?’ she asks.

  ‘Be my guest,’ I answer, watching her as she sits on one of the chairs, the clipboard balancing on her lap. She starts to scribble on my behalf and her action takes me back almost twenty years, when we were both little kids wearing grey pinafores and ribbons in our hair.

  Georgie and her family lived two roads down from my house so we went to the same play group, the same pre-school, and the same primary. We always played together and ever since I can remember she has been in my life.

  When my parents divorced and my mother moved back to Australia, I went through a difficult time. I think I was four at the time and I was already reading and writing. My mum cared little for me, because she was always too busy shouting at my father, blaming him for ruining her life. So the day she left, with her luggage already in the cab waiting outside the door, I watched her, hoping she would speak some deep and emotional words of love, which would soothe the ache in my heart.

  She kissed me goodbye and gave me a brief hug instead, and just asked me to write to her, as soon as I learnt. That was the final nail in the coffin of my need for her. How couldn’t she have noticed I could already read and write?

  For as much as I didn’t want her to matter, she was my mother, and the disappointment I felt for her started to weigh on my mind. Unsure how to cope with the sadness of the situation I started to refuse to write my name down in our practising book. It was a silly act of rebellion, just to prove a point that didn’t matter anyway.

  Knowing that I would get in trouble for that, every morning, without fail, Georgie wrote her name and then mine too, so that my teacher never had to reprimand me. Georgie was the best friend anyone could ever wish for.

  ‘Done,’ she says with a smile, passing me the clipboard so that I can sign it.

  I smile at her with the complicity that we nurtured in our life-long friendship.

  ‘Harry brought down some fresh clothes for you earlier,’ she says folding away the things I’d been wearing before that would need to go in the wash, and pointing at the clean ones at the end of the bed. I stand up carefully, grab them, and walk into the bathroom to get dressed.

  ‘I’ll be one sec,’ I say to her, feeling so much better than I have in the past several weeks.

  Once I’m ready, we walk back to Paul’s room in silence, as the emotions I feel are too strong to allow even light conversation. When we reach his door, I take a deep breath and then walk in.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harry is sitting next to Paul and they are listening to an old album, one we loved as teenagers. The music brings me back to that time and a smile takes my tension away. This is a happy moment – I’m about to tell the man I love that we are going to be a family.

  Harry stands up and holds me tight in a reassuring hug. He always makes me feel loved and cherished. ‘Congratulations,’ he whispers in my ear, then looks at me with a smile. His eyes are twinkling. ‘I’m way too young to be an uncle,’ he declares with a soft chuckle.

  ‘I’ve been an aunt to Becca’s kids since I was eighteen; I’m sure you’ll be just fine,’ I tell him teasingly.

  ‘Okay, okay …’ he answers with a grin. ‘I’ll be the best uncle in the world, but on one condition …’

  ‘What’s that?’ I ask sceptically. Harry can be sneaky, so I won’t accept without knowing exactly what he wants.

  ‘I’m not changing dirty nappies,’ he says, holding his hands up as if that’s where he draws the line.

  ‘No deal,’ I answer with a smile and he pouts in return.

  ‘Can I have a minute with Paul?’ I ask. He kisses my palm, stepping away from Paul’s side. I turn my eyes to Georgie, who is standing next to me. My throat is thick with emotion and I swallow down the tears that are threatening to fall. ‘I just need a minute,’ I tell her and she gives me a brief hug before walking towards Harry.

  They are almost out the door when Harry calls my name. When I lift my eyes to him, he says, ‘He’s not getting out of the deal either.’

  I look back at him with a frown, unsure of what he’s referring to.

  ‘Dirty nappies!’ Harry explains with a serious face that makes me smile. ‘If I do them, he’ll have to do them too.’

  ‘Get out,’ I warn him, shooing him away with my hand.

  ‘Fine. Fine,’ he says, finally closing the door and leaving me alone with Paul.

  ‘Big news, huh?’ I ask Paul after placing a soft kiss on his lips.

  The disappointment of realising that he is not going to suddenly wake up dulls my excitement. Still, I’m not ready to give up my hopes that one day he will.

  ‘I heard the baby’s heart beating. It’s as strong as yours – just much, much faster,’ I say, lying down next to him. ‘I saw it as well. It’s like a flicker in a black and grey pixelated picture. It’s pretty impressive. I need to have another check in a few weeks and you could come see it for yourself …’ I let my words fall into his silence.

  ‘We have lots of things we need to discuss. This baby will need his daddy and so many cuddles. I can’t do that alone. Also, there are the dirty nappies …’ I tell him picking up Harry’s joke. He doesn’t laugh.

  I rest my head on Paul’s shoulder and place my palm on his heart. It’s as strong as always, just as reassuring as seeing our baby’s beating on the screen.

  ‘Please come back to me, Paul. Your baby already loves you so much, and needs you – we both need you, my darling. Please come back to me,’ I whisper.

  His breathing is almost inaudible while he lies immobile in my arms. We stay like that, in the quiet of my sorrow, in the warmth of my love until Harry and Georgie return.

  They have a mischievous look on their faces, and Harry seems strangely excited.

  I get off the bed, kiss Paul on his forehead, and after straightening the cover around him, I walk towards them.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask, suspicious.

  ‘We went shopping,’ Harry says casually.

  I look around but I can’t see any bags, so I look from him to Georgie, waiting for an explanation. ‘So?’ I ask when they just stand there grinning like two idiots.

  ‘Get the stuff, get the stuff …’ Georgie says, elbowing Harry gently in the ribs.

  ‘Sure,’ he says almost giggling.

  Honestly? I have to roll my eyes at them. They look like a bad comedy act from a cheap holiday resort. Although I have to admit we’ve been so miserable lately that I can see how we are grabbing on to the baby’s news as if it was a buoy that could keep us all afloat. At least for now. Harry returns with two enormous bags and a box and my mouth falls open in surprise.

  ‘What’s all this?’ I ask him.

  ‘Get the rest, quick!’ Georgie says, taking the box from him and placing it on the table, while Harry puts the bags he’s holding carefully on the floor and disappears once again out the door. He returns with another two bags.

  ‘Are you guys crazy?�
� I laugh, looking at them getting stuff out of the bags and onto the table that is soon covered with books and baby stuff and weird contraptions I can’t figure out the use for.

  ‘We got you these,’ Harry says, pushing three books into my hands. I recognise immediately the black and yellow cover of the ‘For Dummies”’ series.

  ‘Pregnancy – Your Baby’s first year – Baby & Toddler Sleep Solutions,’ I say looking at him with a smile.

  ‘I wanted to get you the Potty Training one too, but Georgie talked me out of it,’ he says, looking at her sideways.

  ‘Honestly, enough banging on about the dirty nappies. You are doing it, and that’s the end of it,’ I say, stepping closer to the table to look at what else is there.

  ‘Check this out. I chose these as well,’ he says, taking a bunch of bodysuits in different sizes and colours. He looks at me with an expectant expression on his face.

  I take the first one and read out loud what’s written on it: ‘If you think I’m cute wait until you see my uncle.’

  ‘Amazing, right?’ Harry says, pressing me for an answer while Georgie rolls her eyes at him.

  ‘Yes, pretty good.’ I smile, his good mood too contagious to resist.

  ‘Look at the others – they are really funny …’ he says, but then he’s too impatient to wait for me to pick another one, so he snatches the pile from my hand and starts to parade them while reading the slogans on them.

  ‘3.30 a.m. Party in my crib. Bring a bottle.’ He laughs at the joke. ‘Bring a bottle. Hilarious,’ he says again and I can see how much he needs for me to join in this moment where life is fun, and we are happy, and the future is shining brightly ahead. I bite my tears back into the knot in my throat and laugh with him.

  ‘Funny. It is funny,’ I say. ‘Although it’s not going to work if I breastfeed.’ And at those words we all start to laugh even louder, even though I know my giggles edge very near to hysteria, even though we are all just pretending that we are feeling pure, unclouded joy.

  When the laughs die down, Georgie takes another book from one of the bags. This one is a hardback with beautiful week-by-week photos of the foetus development and a description of what’s happening to my body too.