I didn’t think she was telling me the truth. I parked that thought as one to share with Neva and pick up at another time, because right now, I really needed to get an answer for myself.
“I think I’m pregnant.” Saying it out loud again made my stomach fizz. “I’ve missed my period and I’m throwing up at certain times of the day.”
Genny shook her head. “Let’s just do a test. You might be able to rule it out straight away, or know that you are for certain. Bear with me.” She got up again and headed into her little en-suite that was a perk of her role. A minute later she was back with a pregnancy test.
There was no point asking why she kept these in there. Whether she’d needed them herself at some point, I didn’t know because Genny kept certain parts of her life so tightly to her chest, or maybe there was a stock for people like me, because she was the person you went to when you had a mess.
“Go pee on a stick then bring it out here. I’ll make tea. And it’s okay to be anxious, but know that this is just an event and we’ll move through it however you decide.” She patted my arm. “Go.”
I did as she said, my heart racing, my stomach churning, something I was well used to after the last week. I didn’t lock the toilet door, just in case I had a proper melt down and Genny needed to get in. The instructions were straightforward, but I still read them twice so I couldn’t do it wrong and end up with a false result. Then I got rid of my yoga pants and underwear, tearing up looking at them because they made me think of Nate, and squatted over the toilet, lining everything up.
Then I waited.
No pee.
Of course, it would be now when my body decided to be awkward. I shifted, reaching for the tap and turned it on, knowing that the sound of water could sometimes help psychologically.
Another minute later and I was peeing on a stick for the first time in my life, the tears that had been hovering in my eyes now cascading down my cheeks. Done, I tidied up, left the stick out on some loo roll and got myself back into my clothes, bringing the stick out with me to where Genny was waiting with tea.
“Not the most hygienic thing, is it?”
She laughed. “Who cares. It’s only pee. Sit down and wait. Do you want to tell me more?”
I started to cry even more, because Genny was the kind of friend who would do whatever she could to help and not ask any questions. She wasn’t nosy.
“Amber, it will be alright. I promise you.” She passed me a tissue.
“If I’m pregnant, it’s Nate’s.” It felt weird just saying that. “He’s the only person I’ve slept with in –”
“Forever.” She ended my sentence for me. “Which makes everything very complicated.”
“I don’t want children.” I shook my head. “I’ve never wanted children.”
“Can I ask why? I know Neva’s desperate for them, but you’ve always said you don’t want a family.”
“My sister – the eldest – has three and she’s really struggled with her mental health. She’s had bad post-natal depression and I’ve seen the impact it’s had on her and her husband. I wasn’t bothered about having them before that – it was kind of an ‘I’ll wait and see what happens’ because most people have them, but the more I’ve seen her, and all the time she loses to having to look after the kids and how little money she has. I don’t want that life.” I’d never spoken so much about it. It had become a thing, telling some people you didn’t want children. I’d been called selfish a couple of times, then told I was just attention seeking and trying to be different, so I stopped having conversations about it, unless I’d been with another woman who felt the same.
Genny nodded. “A few things. One, not wanting children is neither selfish nor attention seeking. It’s your body and your life, so you should have the right to choose. No one else, and it’s no one else’s fucking business what you decide and the reasons around it. Two, your sister’s had a shit time, but there are so many people who haven’t. You don’t know what your experience will be like – yes, it could be similar to your sister’s, or it could be completely different. Whatever you choose to do, you will have me.” She smiled, that serene, sincere smile. “Because you’re going to have a choice.”
I looked at the stick. Two pink lines, as clear as day.
“Fuck.” And with that word, I burst into tears.
There were hugs and tissues and more tea. Then there was water, and food delivered, because I was starving. For the rest of the day, I holed up in Genny’s office while she dealt with footballers from Madrid who were being arseholes, and tempered Guy’s temper with graceful platitudes in between telling him to stop being an arsehole himself – I heard all this from her office – I was pretty sure she upped everyone’s volume on purpose.
In between the noise I panicked and planned, a combination of the two that had me going round in circles and ending up in exactly the same spot as I’d started.
That last night with Nate, in the hotel in Newcastle, or rather, last two nights because we repeated night one in pretty much the same way, had been cathartic. His absence after the second time we’d slept together had stung, but I’d kind of understood why because I knew him too well to think he was one of the stable of arseholes that some footballers belonged to. In Newcastle, I’d felt wanted. Lusted after. I knew if I was looking for a relationship with a man with a couple of kids, then he would probably have wanted to date, take it slowly, but he didn’t push me for that because he wasn’t in the right place himself.
I wasn’t on the Pill, but we had used condoms. Ninety-five percent effective, which meant five percent not. The timing had been right for me to produce a viable egg, and somehow his sperm had sneaked out of the rubber and found it. Thus I was now being sick, highly emotional and had a random dislike of cheese and onion crisps.
In the next few weeks, I had a decision to make.
Genny came back into her office, looking tired and irritated.
“Has he signed?”
She nodded. “He’s signed. The prodigal son has returned to England’s shores for the remainder of his career. Let us all rejoice.” She dropped down into the chair. “How are you?”
