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I cave on the inside for him. His desperation, his pain, his crippling guilt. Nothing in the world could make me feel any sorrier. Pushing myself up, I straddle his lap and give him my hands to take to his shoulders. I hold on to them tightly, purposefully, as he regards me carefully. And I stare at him, determined. ‘I love you,’ I say, quickly placing my finger over his lips when they part. ‘If God thought it was too late for you, I wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t have sent me to you.’ I take his hand and place it on my tummy, deciding that now is the time. I’ve held off for weeks, mainly to wrap my own mind around it, but also because I was worried about the gravity of it all. Babies are unpredictable. They have flailing limbs and they grow into toddlers that like to climb all over you.
Theo looks down at my tummy with a frown, and I go on, pulling in air to help me. ‘If God thought it was too late for you, he wouldn’t give you a new life to take care of.’
His eyebrows pinch in the middle. ‘What?’
‘I’m pregnant,’ I say, plain and clear, as I push his hand into my tummy. Theo’s eyes become progressively wider, his mouth dropping open, and I hold my breath, sitting back and waiting for it to sink in. While he stares at my stomach, I watch, fascinated, as his expression changes a hundred times, through countless emotions. There’s wonder, there’s shock, there’s definitely happiness, and a million others, but the most acute of them all, the one I have considered the most and prepared myself for, is the fear.
‘Izzy, you need to get off me.’ Theo pushes his back into the couch, distancing himself from me. ‘Please, you need to get up.’
I do what I’m told quickly and jump up from his lap, and Theo follows slowly after with a few uncomfortable hisses, starting to half stalk, half hobble around the lounge. ‘But I haven’t touched you in months.’ His hands come up to his hair and have a little tug. ‘Months, Izzy.’
‘Nine weeks, if you want specifics.’ I perch on the edge of the couch, my nervous hands wedged between my knees. I knew he would be shocked, but is he suggesting something here? ‘Theo, I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.’
‘I don’t know what the fucking hell I’m thinking.’ He swings around aggressively, and he pays for the sharp movement, hissing and clenching his ribs. ‘Damn.’ He starts breathing deeply, straightening back up. ‘Izzy, I thought you were on the pill.’
‘I am. Was.’ I correct myself.
‘Then how?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe you have acid sperm.’ For the love of all things holy. It’s happened. It’s no good going over the hows and whys of it all. It won’t change anything. I sag, trying not to let my budding frustration get the better of me. ‘Come and sit down,’ I order, patting the seat next to me.
‘No, thanks.’ He begins with the half stalk, half hobble again, going up and down the room, stopping every now and then, opening his mouth to speak, then shutting it again and commencing half stalk, half hobble. He’s making me dizzy.
‘I know what you’re scared of,’ I say, finally pulling his irritating circuit of the room to a stop. He looks at me in question, though he doesn’t ask. ‘But you don’t need to be,’ I assure him. ‘It’s going to be fine.’
‘Izzy, I’m far from cured. That reflex is ingrained in me.’ His hopelessness is rife, and his doubt is strong. ‘Look what I did to you.’ He sighs, bringing his palms to his temples and dragging them down his beard. ‘I’ll be a terrible father. The worst.’
Resentment ignites in my gut and bubbles up to the surface, exploding. ‘Don’t say that.’ I jump up and point at him, so fucking mad.
‘Isn’t it true?’ he asks. ‘You’ll never trust me with your baby. You’ll be on the edge of your seat every moment of the day, and I’ll be worse.’
‘Our baby,’ I correct him. ‘It’s our damn baby, not mine. And I have a plan,’ I declare. I’ve thought about it so much – about therapy, shrinks, and counsellors, all of which are lined up to help Theo with his surprisingly easy acceptance. But I had another idea last week when I was watching the Miami Open. I’m willing to try anything. I hold my finger up in indication for him to wait, dashing off to the bedroom and collecting my plan. I’m back in seconds, tipping the contents of the bag out at my feet, a hopeful smile on my face.
Theo looks at the floor, then to me, baffled. ‘We’re going to play tennis?’
