I stand as well. “You won’t stay for dinner? I’ve made a pizza.”
“No, I’ve got a few things to do.”
I walk with her to the door. Inside, I feel as if I’m flailing about, my arms windmilling as I try to keep my balance, but outwardly I stay calm. When we get to the door, panic briefly rises to engulf me, and I pull her into my arms. I don’t know how to comfort her. How can I say everything will be okay when I’ve proven myself to be completely unreliable and irresponsible? How can she possibly think I’d make a good father for her unborn child?
She rests her forehead on my shoulder and returns the hug. We stand there like that for about twenty seconds, our hands not moving, like two statues, Rodin’s The Kiss, carved into marble.
Then she moves back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says brightly. “You and Queenie have a good evening!”
“Yeah… you too.”
She opens the door and goes out. A few seconds later, I see her on her bike, pedaling toward the gate.
I close the door, go back into the kitchen, and stand by the counter, staring at the unbaked pizza.
I’m still standing there looking at it a few—five, ten minutes?—later when I hear a car pull up outside. My head snaps around, and I stride over to the window. For some reason I expect Beth to get out—come back to tell me she loves me; or more likely that I’m fucking hopeless and she doesn’t want me to have anything to do with the baby. But it’s my sister, Kath.
Frowning, I go to the front door and open it as she walks up. “Hey,” I say. “Everything all right?”
Kath is forty-five and fighting perimenopause with every cell in her body. She’s recently been promoted to partner at her law firm. She stays fit by playing netball and swimming regularly, and she’s active in the local community. She’s definitely her father’s daughter.
She’s carrying a bag. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve brought you some veggies from the garden. I keep promising, and I finally got around to it.” She looks at my face. “You okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Uh…” I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans.
Her expression softens. “Going to invite me in? I could do with a coffee.”
“Um, sure.” I can’t think of an excuse to say no. I back away, and she comes in, smiling as the Spoodle runs up to her. “Oh, this must be Queenie! Hello, aren’t you a sweetheart?”
While she fusses her, I go into the kitchen and start making the coffee. While the espresso pours, I glance at the uncooked pizza, feeling a surge of frustration. I should have convinced Beth to stay. Irritated with myself, I pick the tray up and tip the pizza into the bin.
“Oh dear,” Kath says. I hadn’t realized she’d followed me into the kitchen. “Things must be bad if you’re throwing pizza away.” She leans on the breakfast bar and tilts her head with concern. “What’s up, honey?”
I’ve always been more like our mother, and Kathy’s more like Dad. She was always the apple of his eye too. Even though she fell pregnant at the age of twenty while still at university, she was already engaged to the father, and promptly married him, and so managed to avoid Dad’s ire in a way I’m sure I wouldn’t right now if he was still alive.
Despite all this, losing Mum from cancer when I was only fifteen brought us closer together. And when Dad was sick towards the end of his life, we both paid for a nurse, but Kath was forever thankful when I eventually moved back home to look after him.
I trust her, and therefore when she asks, the words come tumbling out. “I’ve just seen Beth.”
“Oh, she’s the one you’ve been dating, right?”
“Kinda. But not really. It’s complicated. It’s even more complicated now. She’s pregnant.”
The full force of it hits me like a saucepan to the head. She’s going to have a baby.Mybaby. I turn to make the coffee, fumbling with the cups and spilling espresso, and I wipe it up like an automaton.
Her eyes widen. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
She studies my face. She can clearly see that I’m not celebrating.
“How far gone is she?” she asks.
“She’s only just found out.”
“Early days, then.”
“Yeah. She did point that out.”
