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“Well, if you’re gonna quote your mother at me, I’m gonna remind you that you can’t drink alcohol for a long time. And speaking of that, tonight’s the night, yes?”
“Yes. Winter should be home any minute now and he’s going to give me the injection.”
“I can hear the nerves in your voice. You okay?”
“Yes and no, but I’d be worse if I had to give myself the shot. You know I hate needles.”
“Yeah,” she says, pausing briefly before saying, “Shit, I’ve gotta go. King just arrived home and he’s in a mood. Text me and let me know how it goes. I’ll call you tomorrow to check in. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Lil. Don’t kill Zara.”
“Ugh,” she says and ends the call.
I think about our friendship while I finish making lasagne for dinner. We’ve grown close over the last year. My move to Melbourne didn’t end our friendship; it only made us closer because now we talk a lot on the phone. While Cleo is my rock at all times, she doesn’t understand what it’s like to be married to a club president like Lily does. The worry over something happening to our husbands, the stress when they’re away taking care of club business, the nights they don’t come home because of club stuff. Lily understands all of these things and why I chose this life. I’d be lost without her some days.
Once the lasagne is in the oven, I head into the bedroom and freshen up. I also check my phone for a text from Winter. He said he’d be home around 6:00 p.m. and it’s nearly 6:30 p.m. I don’t find a text, which is unusual. Winter is hard-core about punctuality. He also knows I worry, so he never fails to call or text with an update if his plans change.
I send him a text and then decide to watch some TV to take my mind off everything; however fifteen minutes later, I’m growing more anxious than I was. I still haven’t heard back from Winter. The only time I know not to expect a reply is when he’s doing something for the club that prevents him from staying in touch. And those are times I know he’s in potential danger.
Shit.
Another half hour passes with still no word. I’ve imagined a wide range of scenarios of what could be happening and am trying to talk myself into believing his bike broke down and his phone battery went flat. My brain can get on board with the bike breaking down, but not the battery going flat, simply because my husband is fas
tidious about everything, including charging his phone. Damn you, Winter Morrison, for being so meticulous and predictable. If he was neither of those things, I could believe so many more possibilities right now.
As it draws closer to 8:00 p.m., I accept I’ll be giving myself my injection tonight. The doctor advised to give the shot between 6:00 p.m. – 8:00 p.m. each night, so I can’t wait for Winter any longer.
I grab the vial from the fridge, and the syringe, trying to ignore the nerves running through me. Needles and me do not go well together, and on top of that, I can’t help but feel disappointed Winter isn’t here for this. It’s kind of silly, but this moment feels huge to me. The next big step in our journey, and for months now I’ve imagined Winter and me doing this together. That he’s not here feels all wrong.
Taking some deep breaths, I fill the syringe the way the nurse showed us. My hands are shaky so I slow myself down. “You can do this, Birdie. You just have to stick the needle in your stomach. It’s not hard.”
Shit.
Why does it feel hard then?
Good God, do not cry, woman.
“I’m not going to bloody cry,” I mutter, exasperated with my emotions.
Sitting, I gently pinch my stomach together as shown and bring the needle to it.
You can do this.
Seriously, just do it.
My breaths grow shallow as I give myself a stern pep talk. At my age, it feels dumb to still be afraid of needles. However, it’s not so much that causing my emotions to fray, it’s my silly wish that Winter was here. I mean, it’s just an injection. He’s not missing out on anything important tonight.
“Okay, let’s just bloody get this done,” I tell myself before finally pushing the needle into my stomach and giving myself the shot.
After, I sit quietly for a long while thinking about the significance of what I’ve done.
We’re going to have a baby.
We’re making this happen.
I’m going to be a mummy.
Winter is going to be a daddy.
