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“My dad said.” Laughing, I get up from the coffee table. This conversation is getting weirder by the second; I need something to help it make sense. “Why are you talking to my dad about my sister’s birthday party?” I start to pour us another round of singles.
“I asked him for her hand.” It’s quick and a little too nervous for him. It takes a second too long for his words to register.
I never in a million years thought that I’d feel the way I do about this conversation. All I can picture is Cassie’s fucking toothless smile, when she started school. The memory of walking her through the gates with Mum and Dad is so fresh, so vivid, that I swear I can smell the mulchy scent of wet, mushy autumn leaves and the syrupy sweetness of the pancake breakfast she picked as a treat to celebrate her first day of big-girl school.
That one memory is enough to send my heart reeling into so many different thoughts of what it would’ve been like to walk Carina through the sa
me gates. Holding her warm hand through it and missing her like she was leaving me for days rather than hours.
“I asked for his blessing,” Leo says a little louder and steadier.
Picking up our drinks, I turn to look at him. “And?”
“He said yes.”
“Good.” I smile through the sudden melancholy of my reverie. Handing him his drink, I sit in the chair beside his.
“Good?
“Yeah.” Holding my glass up between us, I wait for him to chink his to mine. “Welcome to the family.” I give him the approval he was after.
“Thanks.”
“What’re you going to do if she says no?”
Silence.
More silence.
Leo swallows.
Obviously, I know Cassie won’t say no to him, but it’s sort of fun seeing him process that possibility.
“Ummm…” Taking a deep breath, he looks into his empty glass like he’s willing it to fill up miraculously.
“What? You’ve got to be prepared for every eventuality.”
“She won’t say no,” he says matter-of-fact, but the way he’s playing with the tumbler in his hands says he’s shitting himself.
“Are you sure?”
“Shut up!” Standing up, he takes his glasses to the bar and puts them down before heading for the open door. “You’re a wanker.”
Holding his middle finger up, he salutes me goodnight, leaving me to my thoughts. It’s not the conversation we’ve just had that’s on replay. Not one single part of it is at the forefront of my mind as it should be. Rather, it’s the what ifs they’ve conjured up. The stolen possibilities and memories.
All I can think about is the little girl I held in my hands. My chest tightens with a love I can’t let go of. A love that I can’t ever imagine not feeling.
I don’t want another baby.
Arabella’s words chase every one of my thoughts. And I keep waiting to feel hurt or angry. I keep waiting to feel like I’m missing something. For that feeling of preconceived regret and resentment to kill whatever’s left of me.
It never comes.
Instead, I’m drowned in relief. I can’t fathom loving another child as much as I love Carina. Or the obligation of letting go of her to make room for another. I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want to forget her weight in my hands. I don’t want the feel of her tender skin to disappear. I don’t want to replace her at all.
And I’m one hundred percent aware that people have more than one child. I never felt any less loved when Cassie was born. Throughout our entire lives, I’ve never felt less important or like there wasn’t enough affection for the both of us. I know it’s normal and possible to love more than one person at a time. But I’m so fucking scared of forgetting my little girl.
All the little details that are so vivid yet feel like they’re one breath away from being forgotten.
