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‘Actually…Luuk is dropping by for a drink…’

Her face, an older version of me minus the eyes, lights up like a Christmas tree. ‘Luuk is here?’

‘Yep. Touring Europe.’

There’s a knock as we exchange our news of the evening, and I turn into a puppy getting the zoomies. As Mom and I head for the door, I sneak peeks in the hallway mirror to see how much the ride messed up my hair.

He’s a friend, I remind myself.

Yeah, right! that Bea-like voice scoffs.

Chapter Nine

2019

Corrie

‘I’m back! What shitty weather, I was nearly blown away a couple of times. Corrie?’

Johan’s voice yanks me from my cloud of joy. For the past half hour, I’ve been looking at the white stick, the third one that confirms what I’ve been suspecting; what we’ve been trying for.

I exit the bathroom, holding it behind my back.

‘Hey…’ I almost whisper, going for a kiss.

‘I’m all wet,’ he says, his lips almost unwilling against mine. ‘I’d better go change. You seem in a pretty good mood,’ he adds, noticing I’m bursting with excitement.

‘I have something to show you.’

The plan was to wait for a bit. I thought I would organise a special moment, like those on social media, not for the sake of filming, let alone showing the world, but to make it memorable. But now I find it impossible to wait. Slowly, I move my hand to reveal the stick.

Johan frowns. ‘What’s this?’

‘What we’ve been working for.’

Instead of his face lighting up, as I was certain would happen, he seems irritated—almost disgusted—as he takes in the positive symbol on the stick. ‘You’re…pregnant?’

‘Yes!’

‘You’re fucking kidding me,’ he says, as if I’ve achieved the result all by myself.

It’s as if a gush of icy wind has swept through my joy, but I refuse to let it freeze it. ‘Does it look like a joke?’

‘Shit, Corrie, you couldn’t have picked a worse moment…’

I couldn’t have picked up a worse moment? ‘Once you start trying, you can’t exactly choose when a pregnancy will happen,’ I remind him.

‘Still…you know things aren’t optimal right now, what with me looking for a new job and…’

I wait for more arguments, but none comes. His failure to demonstrate even the least of happiness for our baby, the one we supposedly decided to try for together, tips something inside me. This pattern of nothing ever being good enough has been getting old, and it wasn’t exactly okay when I was the target, but now it’s about our child.

‘So what are you suggesting?’

He looks startled by my warning tone. ‘I am not suggesting anything…’

‘Let me suggest something then. I am determined to have this baby, with or without your or your family’s presence in his or her life. You’ll have plenty of time in the coming months to think about it and kindly inform me.’

‘Where is this coming from? Have you gone mad?’