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“You’re sick?”
“Morning sickness which comes on randomly throughout the day,” I explain and tuck my hair behind my ears, my eyes still staring off into the distance.
“You’re sad,” he observes and I want to gape at him.
“How can I not be?”
“It’s been nearly a month,” he says quietly, almost as if trying to comfort me with his tone.
This time I do look at him, “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
He looks at me for a moment longer, his blank eyes giving nothing away. “You have a doctor’s appointment in thirty minutes. He’s travelled to the village to see you. Don’t be late.”
“And how exactly am I expected to get there?” I ask, my voice casual, my body tense.
“Jeanine will drop you off on her way home and I’ll pick you up when it’s finished.” He closes the door on his way out, I rush around getting ready. Making sure to put on trousers so the doctor won’t get a glimpse of my ‘mini’ if he has to do an ultrasound. Unfortunately I have only one set of clean clothes left due to the fact my things are still in Nathan’s car and I’ve used all the clothes in my rucksack. I pull these on with a sigh, thankful the brown T-shirt matches my beige jeans and boots, I don’t look a total disaster. They fit too which is an even bigger relief.
Nathan is nowhere in sight when I leave, I’m glad for this. I’m not sure how to react to him right now. The guy has issues I don’t want to deal with. You’d think he’d be a little more sympathetic towards me right now. You’d think he’d be a bit more emotional too. Caleb was his brother and yet he shows no signs of grief. He shows no signs of any emotion whatsoever, I’ve never met a more robotic person in my life.
Why is part of me screaming to be grateful? He’s messing up his privacy, his home just to accommodate me and my baby.
But another part of me is saying he should, it’s his niece of nephew in my stomach. He should make sure he or she has everything that his brother would’ve given. Well, not everything, but he should help.
It still doesn’t dismiss his demeanour towards me.
“Be patient,” Jeanine tells me as we pull up to the curb after a long and quiet ride here. “He’ll calm, he’s just not used to company.”
“What do you mean by that?” I mean, it’s obvious she means he lives alone but I can’t help but feel that there’s more meaning to her statement.
“Would you like me to come in with you?” Ah, a subject changer, she must be sworn to secrecy because Jeanine doesn’t come across as the type who likes secrets.
I shake my head, “No, it wouldn’t feel right. It was our thing… you know?”
She gives my hand a squeeze and nods, her eyes misting over with understanding, “I know pet.”
The doctor sees me immediately, he informs me his name is Dr Meadow and he’ll be delivering my child privately. So I’m guessing I’m not getting baby care on the NHS. What the hell is wrong with Nathan? What’s wrong with the NHS?
He does an ultrasound to see how far along I am even though I already told him two seconds ago. I find no enjoyment in this, I hardly look and refuse to know the sex of it yet. It was for Caleb and I to discover together, it doesn’t feel right doing this on my own. He takes far more measurements than the people back at home did, which concerns me. He assures me it’s so he can monitor every single aspect of my pregnancy from now until the end.
Apparently I’m perfectly healthy as far as he can tell and my baby is going to be a big one, he wants to take my bloods to test me for diabetes and other illnesses. Mainly diabetes because apparently people with diabetes have large babies.
This makes me want to slap him even if he is being nice about it. I’m large, pregnant and hormonal and I don’t need a doctor telling me I shouldn’t be so large.
Fortunately I haven’t put much weight on anywhere else, my breasts are massive and I hope they never deflate. The rest of me however is still a good size.
I also tell him to give me a list of all the foods I can’t eat so I can prove to Nathan that he’s being unreasonable, then I come to the conclusion that all I have to do is get up earlier than him and raid his fridge. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt.
It’s when the doctor tells me he’ll be putting me in to see somebody that I decide I want to leave and I want to leave now. A therapist to be exact. He thinks I need to talk to someone about what happened or there’s a possibility I won’t bond with the baby at birth. Finding your lover dead is… according to him… a terrible tragedy that needs dealing with appropriately. I disagree. Sure it’s a terrible tragedy but I believe it needs leaving where it belongs. Locked away until my last breath. I’m not ready to rehash the tale and I’m not sure I ever will be.
