Come to Puffin Bay when you have chance. Bring Theo if you want – you’re both welcome to stay. I’ll invest in earplugs.
Love always,
Gully
One Year Six Months after New Orleans
Dear Gully,
Thank you for being that three am phone call. I’m writing this with a hell of a hangover and eyes that are almost too swollen to see out of. I really didn’t expect Theo’s response to be that. I can’t believe his reaction.
After everything, all the declarations of being in love and how this was it for both of us, and then last night. I knew I had to tell him and maybe I waited too long, but if I’d said it any sooner, don’t you think it would’ve looked like all I was looking for was a sperm donor?
As it was, that was what he thought anyway. I know I told you everything last night/this morning and I don’t want to see those words written down on paper. I didn’t expect that, but maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought.
I’m hurt. I’m upset. I feel grief and empty and angry and all of those emotions I didn’t want to feel like this again. I know I’m broken. I know I can’t have children the way most people can, although conceiving a baby isn’t always straightforward and neither is carrying one, but I didn’t expect the man I thought loved me to react in that way.
I hoped for him to tell me that I was perfect the way I was and we’d be a team and have a baby when the time was right, but those weren’t his words.
I don’t think this is going to work, Iris. I want to have a family with someone where it’s straight-forward and not loads of hospital visits and having a kid with a woman I’ve never met. I know it’d be your sister’s but don’t you think that’s a bit weird? Your sister was wild, wasn’t she? What if our kid was like her?
I wrote it anyway.
Jesus fucking son of a bitch.
I’m still so cross and it’s coming out through tears. Fuck, Gully. What do I do? I don’t know where I am anymore or what I’m meant to be doing.
I’m away next week, shooting for Vogue, which is huge and amazing again and I have to get my head in the game for it. But this job means I can’t even have a dog or a cat without needing to rely on someone to help me with their care when I’m away. How on earth would I manage being a single parent?
He said that, you know? I don’t know if I garbled it last night. Theo told me that I’d make a shit mother anyway because I wouldn’t be there and I’d have to pay for a nanny or he’d have to do loads of childcare, which he couldn’t because of his job.
He kind of has a point.
This is all about me. Last night was all about me. You must be so fed up. My family has caused you nothing but trauma over the years and I’m sorry for that. You’ve been such a good friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you.
I love you,
Iris
Dear Iris,
I’m putting down on paper what I’ve just said to you on the phone so you can go back and read it. That isn’t so you don’t phone me – I’m here whenever you need to talk even if it’s three in the morning again but I figured it’d help to have it in black and white.
Theo was a dick. He doesn’t deserve you. Period. Do not mourn him.Consider this a case of having dodged a bullet.
You are not broken. No one is perfect. You know you cannot conceive naturally and your sister gave you the greatest gift she could do. That’s what’s meant to be.
You are successful and brilliant and kind and thoughtful. When anyone has a baby, it’s difficult. Your life has to change to accommodate having another person, but women have been doing this for thousands of years and you will be fine, if you decide to go it alone.
You can choose to go it alone. You can have a sperm donor. You have options too, in that you have time. There is no rush, and you can see where things take you.
You are the most amazing person I know, and I know some amazing people. You’re strong and kind and everything that anyone could want in a friend or a partner. I’m not saying you’re perfect because no one is, but you are perfect for your friends, your family, me.
You don’t have to change anything now because of what one person has said. Theo is obviously a complete prick who managed to hide it well and the things he said are very, very wrong.
Ivy was amazing. She was wild and free and brilliant and creative – just like you. She’s left a legacy that most people couldn’t dream of – just like you will. Like you already have. Your child will be part of her and part of you and they will be amazing too.
I can stop there for now.
