“Cried out.”
“Good. Tears are the body’s way of cleansing itself. Stay at mine tonight. Leave your car here, let’s sneak out and we’ll drive to yours. Get what you need and stay with me. You don’t need to be on your own right now.” She poured herself some water from the carafe that she’d been topping up as the day went on. “I will be drinking wine. You won’t be.”
“I’m not sure it’ll make any difference. I don’t know if I’ll go through with it, Gen.” Although wine sounded disgusting right now.
Genny shook her head. “I won’t tell you what decision to make, but you need to think through more than you’ve done today, and if you decide to go ahead with the pregnancy and you’ve had a couple of drinks, you will hate yourself for it. Even though it wouldn’t make any difference at this stage.”
She was right. I dropped the tissue I’d been holding. Shock, a different sort to what I’d had when I saw the two pink lines, reverberated through me, because that realisation told me everything.
“I might consider going through with it.” I shook my head, more tears arising. “I might think about keeping it.”
She nodded. “You can think about it. But it is an option. As is telling Nate.”
“I’d be a mum. I can’t be a mum. How would I be a mum?” Hysteria was creeping into my words. “Genny, what the fuck would I do?”
“If you chose to go through with it, you would be amazing. And you’d have Nate, who is already an amazing dad.” She was not in the least bit perturbed by my outburst.
Nate’s name made me want to cry again .
“This fucks things up for him. He’s just lost his wife, Gen –”
“He has played a part in this too, Amber. This is about him just as much as you, if you decide to tell him. But if you do, I can tell you now he will support you.”
“You think I should tell him?”
The door opened, Gen hadn’t locked it, probably because most people had already gone home for the day.
“Tell who what?” Neva came through the doorway. “Jesus, Amber, what’s happened?” She headed straight to the chair next to me, opening her arms for a hug, which I took.
The words choked in my throat. I didn’t want the world to know, but Neva and Genny wouldn’t say anything. I couldn’t have Genny know and not tell Neva.
“I’m pregnant.”
I saw her face fall momentarily before she wrapped me in another hug, not saying anything. The atmosphere changed, a tension strangling the comfort that had been in the room the rest of the day.
“Congratulations!” Neva’s word was forced and almost cruel. When she moved away her eyes had narrowed. “You’re going to keep it, aren’t you?”
“Neva!” Genny raised her voice. “No.”
Neva stood up and shook her head. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, Amber.” She covered her mouth and burst into tears. “I didn’t mean–”
I looked at the water carafe and focused on that, breathing deeply, remembering the techniques I taught, the techniques I practiced. “You did, but it’s okay. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.” Which was a big thing in itself.
I was pragmatic. I was sensible and could make a decision that wasn’t emotive. That was how I worked in what was a man’s world, as much as we women had started to infiltrate it and make it better – or at least different. I’d always been set on not having children.
Those two pink lines and the thought of Nate’s face when I told him, because I would have to, was making me question the decision I thought would be easy.
I looked back at Neva. “I know you really want kids and you’d do anything to be me right now, but please remember I’m not you. You’re my friend and I love you, but if you can’t be there for me as I need you right now, I need you to step back while I sort my head out.” My words were shaky, painful.
Neva shook her head. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” She looked at Genny, then back at me. “Can we have a redo tomorrow. I want to beat myself up right now for that and I need to go swim away my shame.”
I nodded. “I get it, Neva.” I looked away again, realising how puffy my eyes were, how tired I was. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I heard her leave, a choked sob bubbling up from her as she left the room.
“You okay?” Genny came over to me and sat on the arm of the chair. “She will be okay whatever you decide, you know that?”
I shook my head. “She won’t be. Not really and I get why, but she’ll be okay on the surface of things. What do I do now?”
