I don’t have an answer, but Mum thinks quicker than I do.
‘We’re off to the doctor’s, John. Women’s problems.’
‘Ugh. Go.’ Dad waves his hands at us as if he’s shooing away pigeons.
If that’s his reaction to talking about periods, I dread to think how he’d react to the real reason we’re leaving.
We pull into the hospital grounds, and I pleat the bottom of my sweatshirt between my fingers.
‘Jackson’s here,’ says Mum and my head snaps up.
His tall skinny frame, clad in dark jeans and a black jacket zipped up to his chin, is leaning against a lamp post at the entrance to the car park. Our eyes lock as we drive past him and my tummy does a forwards roll. I haven’t seen him since our row, and I’ve missed him.
Mum seems as nervous as me and by the time she’s faffed around going backwards and forwards to make sure her small Fiat is parked exactly in between the white lines, Jackson is loitering at the back of the neighbouring car. Mum heads off to get a ticket and Jackson and I stand about two metres apart facing each other, ready to do battle.
‘You look nice,’ he says, his hands deep in his jeans pockets, his shoulders up around his ears.
My stubborn streak sets in and I refuse his eye contact. I stare straight past him at a bin overflowing with takeaway coffee cups and sticky ice lolly papers that flutter in the breeze.
‘I didn’t mean any of it.’ He shuffles his feet awkwardly. ‘I said it all wrong. I’m sorry.’
I stare stubbornly at several wasps as they hover around the rubbish.
‘Ellie, look at me.’ His voice is needy and it needles at my heart. He runs a hand through his hair self-consciously. ‘Please?’
I swipe at my nose, trying to get rid of the prickly feeling stabbing it, then swing my eyes to meet his. Mine still wary, his pleading. ‘What?’ The word is harsh.
He takes a visible breath. Tension stretches across my body and shoulders, scared to hear his words, but at the same time glad he’s here, talking to me.
‘I didn’t mean that this won’t affect me, sure my body won’t change, my hormones won’t go haywire, I won’t feel like shit for months and I won’t feel like throwing up all the time or desperate to eat earth,’ he spits it out all at once.
I frown at him.
He gave an embarrassed shrug. ‘I told Mum. She gave me a talking-to.’
‘Eating earth?’ I give a faint smile.
‘Her craving apparently when she was pregnant with Milo.’
‘Oh.’ We’re silent for a moment, my hostility beginning to ebb away.
‘You’re not doing this on your own. Whatever you decide to do. I want you to know I’ll support any decision you make.’
The vice grip on my heart tightens again. ‘That’s just it. I don’t want it to only be my decision.’ My voice drops to a croak. ‘It’s too big to make on my own and I might make the wrong one.’
‘Shit. I’m crap at this,’ Jackson says more to himself than me, before taking in another prolonged lungful of air. ‘This is our decision, I get that. But whether we like it or not, more things will happen to you. But I’m not abandoning you. We’ll make this decision together. You and me.’
Before I can reply, Mum is back.
‘Everyone ready to go in?’ she says, putting the ticket on the dashboard.
‘Can I come in too? Is that OK?’ Jackson says hesitantly.
I nod, as Mum says, ‘Come on. Let’s get this done.’
‘Hop up on the bed, Ellie.’ The lady in a white tunic top and trousers, who introduced herself as Jenny, smiles kindly at me.
The paper covering the bed rips as I climb up onto it and I shuffle it together and shove it under my bottom as I lie down.
