It feels like D-day. The kids will be home later, we meet Sam and Kate’s baby girl for the first time, and Ava has her follow-up appointment with her doctor. Two of the things on our list I’m elated about. The last not so much.
I’m dreading hearing Dr Peters tell us that he’s happy with her progress, because I definitely wouldn’t say I’m happy. With the progress we’ve had in terms of our relationship, yes, I’m delighted. But in terms of her memory, I’m disappointed. I might sound ungrateful. I probably am. Like my mother said to me earlier this morning, I should be thankful that I still have her at all. The thought alone makes my blood run cold each time it enters my head.
As we wander down the corridor towards the maternity unit to see Kate before heading to Dr Peters’s office, I can feel Ava’s nerves spiking. I wonder if she can feel mine? I sway between asking her if she’s all right or not saying anything at all.
‘I’m fine,’ she says, peeking up at me. ‘At least some things are coming back to me. Wouldn’t you be more concerned if I had nothing? An empty head?’
‘I just wish you would remem—’ I stop myself in the nick of time, mentally thumping myself. Why would I even dream of saying that?
I’m walking one second, and standing still the next, Ava having pulled me to a stop. Turning into me, she finishes for me. ‘The kids?’
Damn, she’s good. But after Kate’s labour Saturday night, it’s not surprising her mind is on her own children. Ava had relayed every pain her friend should expect. Like a pro. And I think the notion comforted her. Made her feel even more maternal.
Stepping into me, she lifts on her tippy-toes and kisses my stubbled cheek, and I push my face into it, throwing my arms around her and squeezing her to me. ‘I can’t wait to see the kids,’ she mumbles into my shoulder, probably struggling for breath. ‘We need to get on with things, and we can’t do that while we’re incomplete.’
She’s putting me to shame, but one thing I know is that the time away from the twins, the most painful time in my life for more than that reason, wasn’t entirely wasted. I made my wife fall in love with me again. Mission accomplished.
‘I love you.’ I refuse to let her go, people having to sidestep us in the middle of the corridor to get past. I don’t care. Wherever, whenever. Always.
‘I know,’ she answers, fussing over me with kisses like I need to be fussed. ‘Come on. We have a baby to meet.’ At that moment, the doors to the maternity unit open, and Sam appears with a bundle of blankets in his arms. And beneath the piles of soft cotton, his baby girl.
Christ, my eyes begin to well, my throat clogging up on me. I cough to clear it, and Ava gives me a knowing look. I scowl out of principle before my wife thinks I’ve transformed into a complete sappy twat.
Sam grins, so wide. ‘Guys, meet Betty.’
‘Oh my God.’ Ava melts at his feet, going totally goo-goo over the baby. I’m alarmed, stepping forward to take a peek. Yeah, she’s cute all right. My wife swoons all over Sam’s arms, cooing and oohing, clucking and smiling.
‘Don’t get any ideas.’ It’s out before I can stop it, and she looks up at me, her fingers playing with Betty’s little hand. Sam’s quick to fall apart, and Ava’s quick to put me straight. ‘I’m happy with the two, thanks.’
I know I visibly sag before her, and I can’t help it. Imagining going through pregnancy hell again makes me sweat. The worry. The anxiety. The constant fear that something small, a twinge or something else, meant something was seriously wrong. And then the labour. ‘Good,’ I confirm, rolling my shoulders, making Sam laugh harder.
‘You’re too old, man.’ Sam sticks the knife right in and twists it repeatedly.
‘Fuck you,’ I spit, moving on, keen to divert that conversation. ‘How are you, anyway?’ He looks knackered.
‘I thought I’d seen every intimate part of my girlfriend.’ He shudders. ‘I was so wrong.’
I laugh, looking towards the door when Kate comes wobbling through.
She looks surprisingly fresh, considering. ‘I snuck out because it’s not visiting time and they won’t let you in.’ She reaches Ava, who is fast to take her in a hug.
‘I’m so happy for you.’
‘Don’t be,’ Kate gripes. ‘I’m walking like John Wayne for all the wrong reasons.’ Her joke, delivered flat and dry, sets all of us off laughing.
Sam places Betty in Kate’s arms. ‘Yeah, how long until . . . you know . . .’ He nods down at Kate’s hips.
Her look is pure filth. ‘I only have enough energy to stab you.’ She drops a light kiss on Betty’s head, all the while keeping daggers on Sam, who’s grinning like a fool.
‘It’ll be a month at least,’ I tell my clueless mate, relishing his horrified look. I feel his pain. That month after the twins were born was the longest fucking month of my life. Giving him a slap on the shoulder, I sigh, raising my hand and gesturing some wanking action. ‘Meet your new best friend.’
He groans and slips his arm around Kate’s shoulders. ‘It’s a good job I love this crazy woman. Let’s get coffee before I fall asleep here and now.’
We start to wander to the small café at the end of the corridor, Kate wobbling along with the help of a very attentive Sam, me and Ava following. I look down at her, finding her thoughtful. I’m speaking before my brain engages. ‘You know, if you wanted another . . .’
I have absolutely no fucking clue where that just came from. What the actual fuck? Who put those words in my mouth? I know who. That bastard thing called decency. Or is it guilt? Desperation? I don’t know, but what I do know is that if she really really wanted to have another baby, I’d find a way to deal with it. If only just so she could be pregnant and remember it again, to go through birth and have that experience to remember. To be a mother to a baby and a toddler. To have the first tooth and the first day of school. Pain churns in my gut. It’s only now it dawns on me just how much she’s missing from our children’s lives, and while I would love nothing more than for her to have those memories back, I have to accept that they may not come. So maybe I could give her some in another way. Am I being gallant? Or have I completely lost the plot? I conclude, quite speedily, that it’s the latter. What the hell am I thinking? The sweat beads on my brow are instant.
‘Don’t worry,’ Ava chuckles, clearly noticing my suddenly awkward form. ‘I don’t.’
‘Thank fuck,’ I breathe, all kinds of relived. I don’t think I’ve ever suggested anything so dumb. I’m fifty, for fuck’s sake. I’m done making babies.