She looks to me and before I know what I’m doing, I’m leaning over and hugging her. Her arms wrap around me, and her fingertips dig into my back. Kissing the top of her head, I sit back in the chair and take hold of her hand.
The sonographer prints out a bunch of pictures and clears up the gel from Amelia’s stomach.
This was something else today and it re-establishes it was never an option not to be involved.
My kid is healthy and strong, and I can finally say, she.
I help Amelia down off the bed and wait while she dresses behind the screen. Not much is said as we leave and once we’re outside, she hands over one of the scan pictures. You can clearly see the baby on the image, and I store it away in my wallet where it’ll be safe.
“I’ll let you know when the next appointment is.”
She goes to walk off and she makes it halfway across the parking lot before I catch her up.
“What now?” she huffs.
“We need to lose this tension between us. It’s not good for you or the baby, and I’d like it if we could be… friends.”
“Friends?”
“Yeah.”
“How about no, but from now on, I’ll try not to be so sharp with you.” It’s better than her animosity.
“I can live with that.”
I turn to head to my car when she asks, “Have you seen Clare lately?”
Turning around, I say, “She’s been around. She hasn’t been in contact with you?”
“Not in the last few months.”
“She’s still a pain in my ass and still loved up with Tariq.”
“Is she… still on the coke?”
“More than ever. She’s not the same girl you knew. Don’t trust her anymore.”
Sadness creeps over her and I feel it in my soul.
“Sure, I’ll see you next week.”
She climbs in her car and drives away. Fuck. I wish things were different. I’m hyper aware of the scan in my wallet, nestled in my back pocket all the way home.
No one is out front of Tariq’s house, and I head into my house and show my grandmother the scan.
“I’m having a daughter,” I tell her.
Her smile warms me through as it usually does and I’m looking forward to her meeting my kid.
“Why don’t you marry Amelia?”
Not this again. It’s all I hear when either Amelia or the baby is mentioned. It’s so clear cut to my grandmother. She can’t understand why I wouldn’t put a ring on Amelia’s finger.
“No.”
“You care for her.” There’s no question about it, it’s a statement.
“Yeah I do.”
