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Seventeen
Magnolia
Tobermory was the plan.
We were going to move up the coast, away from everything back in London, from the eyes and the opinions, and live on a big property up there. Neither of us were going to work because we didn’t need to. Instead we’d just make good investments and raise our baby together.
Get married.
We were always going to anyway.
My twelve-week scan (which actually took place on my fifteenth week of pregnancy) was integral because after it we would have those ultrasound photos. With them in hand, we thought we’d tell our parents.
We wanted to prove to them that we could do it by ourselves.
It was my biggest fear that they’d think that just because I still technically had a nanny that I wasn’t capable of raising a baby myself. I needed to prove to them that we had this under control, that I didn’t need anyone at all except for BJ, and that we were going to be fine.
Beej convinced me we needed Jonah’s mum’s help.
Rebecca is her name. Rebecca Barnes.
He said she had a doctor friend who would do things privately, quietly and with discretion, which meant looking the other way about me being sixteen. And a Parks.
Beej said we could trust Rebecca and she’d keep our secret forever, and to her credit, she has.
Christian has no idea. I know he has no idea, because if he had an idea he’d never have dated me.
The doctor had a private practice up in Bristol. Jo’s mum offered to come, but we thought we’d be fine. Beej and I left school early on a Wednesday morning. Nearly a four-hour drive.
We spent the whole morning talking about where we’d live and how we’d live and maybe Beej would flip houses because he’s always liked houses, and me taking cooking lessons, and he’d finish school, but would I? Maybe I’d go as far as I could and we’d get a nanny for the first year to live at the house with us so I could do long distance and graduate, and then we’d be set.
Our eyes were so starry about everything.
It wasn’t a lot of waiting around, Anne was her name — the doctor who looked after us. She took us to an ultrasound room. I lay down and everything felt light and buzzy and exciting.
“This’ll be cold.” She smiled at me warmly as she squeezed the gel on my stomach.
On the screens in front of us, all black and white, was a teensy baby.
Looked like a baby too.
Not an alien, not a bean, but a proper tiny, little baby. With a fat stomach and little legs and arms.
Beej grabbed my hand, squeezed it all cute and excited, his eyes glued to the screen.
She wriggled the wand around. “Here’s the head.” She smiled. “And its arms… and let’s find that heartbeat.” She smiled over at me and moved the wand around.
She moved the wand around again.
“Hm.” That was the quiet noise she made, and it was only when I peeked over at her that it occurred to me that maybe something was wrong. “I’ll be right back.”
She gave us a reassuring smile that I didn’t trust and then she ducked out.
BJ looked over at me and I know the creases and lines of his face so well — he smiled at me, but it was forced. He felt it too. Something was off.
A minute later, another doctor came back with Anne.
“I’m Doctor Lewis.” He smiled warmly, shaking BJ’s hand. He glanced up at the monitor, then back at me. “How are you feeling?”
