Page 139 of You’re So Vein

The truth is that I’m already there. I’m thinking of Hannah, hoping like hell that she’s okay. And I’m worried about my family. I think about the overflowing stormwater outside our house. What if they couldn’t evacuate before…

“You said that you can’t have children.” Augustin’s voice is so soft, so delicate against my ear. Great, I guess it’s a distraction from fear, talking about the greatest tragedy of my life.

I nod, my nails digging into his arm, probably giving him a clue that there’s more to this story. He says my name like a warning. “Komal.”

“You have to understand what it’s like to grow up as the oldest daughter in a family like mine,” I say. “Mamma worked long hours trying to get her real estate business going, which meant that she expected me to help with things around the house, including with Preeti and the cousins. I babysat every evening. I worked in Papa’s shop after school. I was expected to make good grades, be head girl, and train for a normal profession where the worst health and safety risk was a paper cut, not having my head shot off. My friends got to go out to parties, but I was always needed at home. I love my family, but I was drowning under the pressure of their expectations. All I ever dreamed about was getting out, having adventures, being able to be my own person. I wanted to fly.

“My parents had scrimped and saved to help me pay for university. I won a scholarship to study business at Cambridge. The plan was in place. And then, on a whim, I signed up for the RAF’s helicopter program. And I got in.”

“Of course you did,” he murmurs, his cool lips kissing the top of my head. “You are brilliant.”

“My parents didn’t think so. They were afraid of losing me, which I understood. But I took their fear as them wanting to control me. They forbade me from joining the RAF. It’s the only time I’ve ever disobeyed them. I sent in my acceptance without even talking to them about it. I can’t even explain why – just that, when I saw that letter, I saw two futures open in front of me, and the idea of spending the next four years at Cambridge seemed so utterly absurd and impossible, I couldn’t not accept the RAF offer. But I couldn’t get Mamma and Papa to understand. They were so angry at me. I went away to training, and we basically didn’t talk again until I graduated.

“I loved flying and the RAF. I was good at following orders, but also at finding off-the-wall solutions to thorny problems that came up while on deployment. I mostly worked in peacekeeping. I flew crazy missions in insane conditions, not that unlike tonight. I was one of the top pilots, on my way towards promotion. My parents were finally proud of me again. Everything was going perfectly, and then I met Sam.”

“Sam?” Augustin growls into my hair. “Who is Sam? I hate him already.”

“He’s a Kiwi, another pilot. He was adventurous and fun, the absolute life of the party. We started… not dating exactly, that’s not how it works when you’re deployed. But we worked together, partied together, got engaged, and made plans for a life together once we finished up our last deployment. I had this whole perfect life planned for us – I wanted kids so bad.” I close my eyes. “I still do.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yeah. I always wanted to be a mum. Most of my friends don’t have kids or don’t want kids, so they assume that I’m the same because I’m thirty-two and childless. But ever since I saw Preeti at the hospital after she’d just given birth to the twins, I’ve been dreaming of holding my own baby in my arms. Sam and I talked about it all the time.

“But it all changed after one bad mission. I had to fly into enemy territory to rescue an operative who’d become pinned down by enemy fire. It was night-time, the conditions were borderline unflyable, and I hadn’t eaten or slept for thirty-two hours. The whole time I was out there, I had this wretched, sickening feeling in my gut that it was all going to go wrong. And it did. I was honestly surprised that I made it back alive, with the operative. But when I finally touched down and stepped out of the chopper, there was blood all over the seat. All over me. I hadn’t known I’d been pregnant, but I had a miscarriage.”

Augustin’s arms circle me. “I’m so sorry.”

I nod, and nod, and nod, forcing myself to continue. “I’m sorry, too. The doctor explained that I had something called cervical fibrosis – little benign growths on the inside of my uterus that made it difficult for an egg to stick. I went on medical leave to have them surgically removed, then went back to work. But after that night, something flipped inside me. I couldn’t fly at night anymore. As soon as I looked up into the dark sky, I’d get panic attacks. The more I tried to push through, the worse I got. I couldn’t even be in a dark, lights-off room without having a panic attack. They pulled me from duty again, giving me some desk work while I saw a psychologist.

“Sam was supportive at first, going with me to doctors, researching cures online, buying me supplements. But then it started to impact his career, too. Neither of us was doing great. And as I saw my career spiralling away from me, I clung even more to my desire to be a mother. I pushed Sam to try again for a baby. I could raise our children while he continued to advance his RAF career.

“Unbeknownst to me, when I had the surgery to remove the cervical fibrosis, it left adhesions in my fallopian tubes, which caused more issues. I saw so many doctors, had another miscarriage, and sought out every possible treatment. I made Sam drink all these disgusting shakes and have red light therapy on his balls in case it was somehow his fault. The more experts told me that things weren’t looking good, the more I became convinced I could find a solution.” I sniff. “I got a bit obsessed.”

“You? Madam MacGyver? Obsessed with fixing a problem in the most creative way possible?” he scoffs. “I can’t imagine it.”

I fake-slap him. “Finally, I’d exhausted every option. I was told that I’ll never be able to have children. I hated myself, and I hated Sam. I didn’t want to give up. I wanted to adopt, find a friend to be a surrogate, anything. I didn’t sleep, barely ate. I was a mess. And I was still afraid of the dark. One night, I called Sam off base because the power went out, and I had a panic attack in our apartment. He got permission to come, and I fell into his arms, so grateful for him, but he hadn’t come to comfort me. He told me that I was holding him back, that I wasn’t fun Komal anymore, and he couldn’t give up his life to look after me. He told me…” I wheeze. “He got another girl pregnant. A pretty officer, Katy. They were going to get married, have a baby, and make a family together. Sam and Katy were going to have my life, and I get nothing.

“And then, after Sam left and I was lying on the floor in the dark, trying to breathe through the terror, Mamma called to say that they’d found cancer cells and Papa was going into the hospital. I packed up my stuff and drove home, which was insanely dangerous since the whole time I was having a panic attack and struggling to breathe. It’s a wonder I didn’t crash. It was the worst night of my life.

“But as soon as I got home again, into the warmth and chaos of my family, I felt better. Sure, I’d lost my job and my partner and my dreams, but at least I could be useful. I could look after Papa and help Preeti with the twins, and help Mamma, and then, when I decided to stay, help the community, too. It was nice to feel wanted, to be good at something again.”

“I understand perfectly.” He kisses the top of my head. “I always wanted to be a father, too. I wanted to adopt a child, to give someone from an orphanage a chance to experience love. And then when Hannah was thrust on me and I had to keep her hidden and safe, I always felt like I was failing at the one thing I wanted more than anything. That’s why I like politics, I think. The chance to make a difference. Plus, I really do enjoy budgets.”

“That’s because you’re the one who’s unhinged.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I want you to live your life fully. I want only to be the home you return to, the soft sigh of relief at the end of a long and fulfilling day. I want you to be safe with me.”

Safe.

“It’s never too late to be who you want to be,” Augustin continues. “Look at Alaric. Five hundred years of being an artistic recluse, and he decides he wants to marry and upturn the entire vampire legal system for love. You can be a mother if you choose. There is more than one kind of motherhood. You can do more than fly tourists around the countryside and get them stranded on hilltops. You can startle yourself.”

“It sounds like someone should take his own advice.” I nudge him in the ribs. “Who does Augustin Durant want to be?”

“I want to be the monster who basks in your light.”

“That’s not a real answer.”

“It is. You ask me who I want to be, and the answer is that I want to be worthy of being Hannah’s father and worthy of your love. You are the sun to me. I don’t mean to be a vampire cliche – it’s just that before you, my world was grey.”