AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t think that this is getting us anywhere,” my mother says, shifting in her seat and smoothing a hand down her pants, as if she can smooth over that episode as well as this one. “Let’s get Kate booked in to see Ivan, and then this whole sorry episode will be sorted out.”
Sorry episode? What?
“I’m not seeing Ivan.”
A frown skates across her perfectly symmetrical eyebrows. “What do you mean you’re not seeing him? He’s the best person for this, Kate. I really wouldn’t recommend anyone else.”
The automatic assumption that I’m not keeping this baby makes my stomach lurch. Enough is enough.
“I’m not having an abortion.”
“Of course, you have to have an abortion, Kate! Everything you’ve worked for will go down the drain. You can’t look after a small baby and finish your residency; the shifts just don’t work that way. The hospital, being on call”—she shakes her head—“it’s just not practical. It’s not even possible.”
“It’s fine. Fabian is going to look after the baby while I finish.”
My father snorts. “Well, if you think he’s going to be reliable enough to do that you’re more delusional than I thought.”
“How long have you known him?” my mother asks, and the hair lifts on the nape of my neck.Not long enough for you, I think, as her eyes scan my face before she looks down and examines her nails, then purses her lips as she stares out of the window.
Tod’s right, sheisa robot, and something much worse I can’t even bring myself to think about. I lift my chin, and my mother’s eyes narrow.
“It’s ridiculous,” she snaps. “It’s bad enough having one daughter who makes terrible decisions. We’re not picking up the pieces when he messes up, Kate, I’m telling you that now. If you decide to go ahead with this, then you’re on your own.”
How many times have they issued ultimatums like this? The ultimatums that always got me to knuckle under and do what they wanted; the ones that Georgie always did the opposite to. God, I wish she was here right now. She’d stand next to me and tell them to fuck off, tell them how appalling they are, tell them all about what the lack of support does to you as their daughter.
“Fine. I’m on my own then.” I stand up. I’m done with this conversation, done with being manipulated.
My mother’s eyebrows rise up before she carefully masks her expression. My father’s face goes even redder, and his chin juts out belligerently. He was probably expecting me to be obedient like I always am, but something about being with Fabian, watching his balls-to-the-wall approach to life, has made it sink into my subconscious that I need to take some risks, and disobeying my parents when I’m a full-grown woman is not the biggest crime in the world.
“Be warned, Kate, we’re not helping you out,” he spits.
I look steadily at him. “When did you start to think that threatening your children was a good idea?” I say, and I’m actually really curious.
“When they started messing up their lives.”
“Messing up whatyouthink their lives should be you mean. I’m quite happy with my life and my decisions. I’m very happy about this baby, and if you were any kind of parents at all, you’d support me in the choices I make. This is your grandchild, and you’re talking about disposing of him or her like, like …”
My mother holds up her hand. “That’s enough. I think we’ve all said our piece now. It’s not a person yet, Kate, as you well know.” She looks at me, and I see something wash through her eyes, something I’ve never wanted to see aimed at me. “I’m really disappointed in you, Kate,” she finally says.
“Me too,” I say, feeling the tremor in my hand as I push it into the pocket of my jeans. “I’m disappointed in both of you.”
And I walk out the door.
32
Kate
The tremor in my hand has advanced to a full-on shake by the time I get in the car. It’s only with difficulty that I turn the ignition on to get the aircon going, hand slipping as I pull my phone from my bag. There’s only one person who will understand what just happened, who’s been on the receiving end of so many of these conversations, who never got a penny from my parents. As the ringtone echoes through the car speakers, I stare out of the window across the perfectly manicured lawns toward the cream-and-taupe façade of the fake Colonial building I grew up in.
“Hello? Kate?”
“Georgie,” I groan. “Can you talk?”
“Of course! How did it go with the dragons?”
The tears tighten my eyes, gathering in the corners. And I turn the ignition another notch, starting the engine and inching forward down the long drive.
“It was awful,” I choke out. “They just assumed I was having an abortion, like it was a foregone conclusion. Dad”—I swallow—“hired a PI to dig up dirt on Fabian.”
