“Quiet,” Mr Stewart barks at her at the same time Mum snipes, “Well, I should think so, too,” but she brushes them both off.
“Wewill,” she insists, quiet but dignified. She’s always been sweet to me, and she’s still looking at me with kindness, even though I’ve just come over and upended her entire world, and put her cantankerous husband in a foul temper.
“And what does that mean?” Mum scoffs. “Can you salvage her place in one of the best dancing schools in the world?”
Tim’s mum sighs. “I know it’s awful that she can’t go, but…but we will help take care of the baby. We’ll make sure responsibility is taken.”
“Are you sure it’s Tim’s baby, young lady?” Mr Stewart asks me suddenly. He’s deadly serious, burning into me with a sharp, inquisitor’s stare. I can almost feel the lamp burning into my eyes, and it gets worse when he takes a step towards me, looming forward like hewantsto intimidate me. I’m shocked rigid, but maybe I shouldn’t be, maybe I should have expected this question. My voice has frozen in my throat, but I’m saved from the need to answer.
“Dad!” Sadie shouts, but Tim once again stands, his fists clenching at his side.
“Say you’re sorry.Right now.” His voice is shaking with fury, even worse than before. “Say you’re sorry for what you just said.” I’ve never seen that look in his eyes; Tim is the most easygoing person you could wish to meet, a direct contrast to his fiery twin. But from the inferno blazing on his face, I think he’ll strangle his dad in a rage if he doesn’t take that question back in the next ten seconds.
Even Mr Stewart seems to realise he’s gone too far this time. “I… I had to ask. Idid.”
“No. You didn’t. Apologise to Nat,now.” Half of me wants to run out of this house; the other half wants to rush into Tim’s arms, where I know I’ll feel safe forever after how he’s shown up for me in this moment, against a father who unnerves him. He’s confided in me several times about how his father’s iron fist and filthy moods brings the whole atmosphere down in his home and make him feel like hell. For him to stand toe to toe with him for my sake in this way… It’s proof, though I didn’t need it, that I couldn’t ask for a better person to be loved by.
Tim will never treat our child the way his dad treats him. I know that like I know grass is green.
“Her name isNatalie, not ‘Nat’ - ” Mum protests.
“I’m sorry,” Mr Stewart mutters, not looking at me. It’s still way more than I was expecting.
“Apology accepted,” I whisper back, and he gives me a filthy look, because my response agrees he had something to apologise for.
Just like Tim, I’ll have to protect this baby from that man. He’s not going to frighten them with his bullishness if I have anything to say about it.
“I’ve told my daughter, and I expect you to tell your son,” my mother interjects, “that their relationship is over as of now. I refuse to allow them to spend any unsupervised time together, and I will be contacting the school to make arrangements to keep them separated.”
“Of course.” Mr Stewart stares his son down. “They’ve shown they can’t be trusted, and there’s a baby to consider now. Don’t look at me like that,” he snaps at his son, whose glare is a mix of fury and panic. “You both made choices, and now youhave to live with the consequences. Your teenage romance is not more important than that child’s welfare. And I’m not having you pulling this stunt again and adding even more brats to this, this…madness.”
Stunt.
Brats.
I wish I could slap him.
Tim’s eyes dart to me, and I tell him with my own that this separation is not what I want, by a long shot. We’re supposed to be going to the fairground tomorrow. He’s been promising me he’ll win me one of those giant teddy bears, or a goldfish. We were going to go on the ferris wheel.Fat chance now.When Mum issued this demand on the way over here that he and I would break up, I told her no, and that she couldn’t make me. I was informed I did not have a choice. But I do. Don’t I?
Maybe Tim and I could run away together. I didn’t have the chance to tell him what was happening before now. I only found out about being pregnant today, when I fainted after my morning shower and Mum took me to the doctor during her lunch break. I hadn’t really noticed anything before that; my periods have never been regular, and I put that time I threw up a few weeks ago down to a stomach bug. I’ve been extremely tired lately, sure, but my dance training is rigorous, and I had no reason to think it was because of anything other than overdoing it during practice.
We can’t stick around with things the way they are. So it might be for the best if we just…run off. If Tim and I could get enough money together to just jump on a train and find a place to rent wherever we end up… We could both get jobs, maybe. And wecould scrape together enough to survive, just us and our baby, and not get torn apart by angry grown-ups who think they know best and have no regard for what Tim or I are thinking and feeling.
No, we couldn’t,my common sense says sadly. We’re too young. We’d never be able to rent anywhere or get jobs that could pay our bills. There’s nowhere we can go, nobody that can help us. We’d end up on the streets. We wouldn’t make it in a million years.
My heart wails at that knowledge, that we’re stuck here, with these people calling the shots. It’s the craziest sort of mess: we’re old enough to procreate, but not old enough for autonomy and the freedom to handle this situation by ourselves.
Well, come what may, I’m not giving Tim up, I promise myself.
Not now. Not ever.
Tim
I can’t feel my legs.
Or my hands.
My poor Nattie.I’ve ruined her life. That dance program was everything to her, and she was going to go all the way with it. Watching her on the stage when I’ve gone to her performances has always given me butterflies. She was genuinely born to dance. And I’ve taken that away from her because I just couldn’t resist sliding inside of her.
