Eavan

I send him a text every day. Typing a few words for him takes me to another realm. It feels as though I’m with him again.

It’s rainy.

I miss you.

I’m so lonely.

The sun is beautiful.

I’m hungry. You?

Stupid words, but so powerful at the same time, bringing him to me for a brief moment even though he’s far away from me.

I am lonely.

Ruby and Jack are gone.

I sleep two hours a day, fearing that something bad can happen to them. So far, no cop has appeared at my doorstep so I continue my routine. My morning sickness is getting worse and worse. A walk, my job, a thousand of doubts, nightmares are my grey blurry reality.

Tonight, I’m sitting on the stone wall around the Cathedral.

I have just sent another text to Seafra: I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused you. I wish things were different for us.

Then I bath in the pleasant environment of my happy memories.

I’m holding a birthday cake in my hands.

“For me?” Jack asks.

“For you, birthday boy,” I say. “Ruby and I made it for you. It looks horrible—“

“Looks great.” Jack turns his face away to hide his glassy eyes.

We sit around the table and Ruby cuts the cake with a big knife. “Happy birthday, Jack.”

“Just don’t sing, Ruby,” Jack says. “You can’t sing, you know that?”

Ruby takes a deep breath and sings as loud as she can. I burst into laughter then join her. Jack’s face lights up and a genuine smile crosses his face.

A man sits beside me and uneasiness surges through me. I zip up my hoody, shoving my hands into the pockets and shoot him a warning glance as a cloud of vapour leaves my mouth. It’s cold, but I don’t want to go to my house yet. The emptiness there is killing me. The memories are tormenting me.

“It’s a lovely evening,” the man says in a husky voice. “Very cold but lovely.”

“It is indeed,” I say.

Our glances meet and the flicker in his blue eyes reminds me of Seafra. Fucking hell. Every man is Seafra for me.

I look for him among the crowds I pass every day and among the people I serve. I crave his arms and kisses. I want him to find me even though I know it will never happen.

We have to forget about each other. Well, it’s the ultimate hypocrisy given the fact that I text him almost every day.

“Such a pretty face shouldn’t be so sad,” the man says.

“I’m not sad,” I snap.

“Charlie,” the man says.

“Fuck off, Charlie,” I say and rise to my feet, but nausea pins me down and I collapse back onto the wall.

My mind spins and I retch.

“You okay?” Charlie asks with concern.

“None of your fucking business.”

“Are you pregnant?” There is even more concern in his voice.

“Fuck off, man, before I call the police.”

He raises his hands in a warding gesture. “Just trying to help. You look like shit. Sorry, but you really do.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Charlie chuckles. “When is the baby due?”

“In four months.” My insides turn solid like rock and I scold myself for my honesty in my head.

It’s none of his business. We shouldn’t even be talking, yet I can’t move, unsure whether this is my pregnancy or my need to be with a human being for a moment.

Charlie nods several times, his eyes sweeping over the Cathedral. “The father?”

“Are you interrogating me or what?”

“Yes, I am interrogating you.”

I burst into laughter. “Do you interrogate every woman you meet?”

“No.”

“So I must look very miserable.”

“More than very miserable.”

I suck in a breath and choke back tears. “The father is a good guy actually, but my life is too shitty for him. We can’t be together.”

“But it seems like your life is not too shitty for your baby.”

His comment stabs me like a knife. “I didn’t plan that. I’m just trying to figure out what to do.”

“Maybe the father will know what to do.”

“Maybe.”

“Would you like him to take care of you?”

“Maybe.”

Charlie rises from his seat with a sigh as though he’s very tired and stands in front of me. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

“No offence, but I want to stay alive. You look like a nice person, but no, thanks. You might be a rapist or a serial killer, no offence. My life is really hard now but I like being alive.” As I finish my monologue, Charlie extends his arm and we shake hands.

“Good luck then,” he says and smirks at me.

“Thanks. The same for you.”

“You need it more than me.”

“Maybe.”

He winks at me and walks off as I remain frozen, stunned by the conversation I’ve just had with a complete stranger.

Compose yourself. Pregnant women are allowed to do stupid things.

I pull myself up with effort and cringe into myself at the coldness of the wind then move towards the Cathedral’s main entrance, passing it and entering the narrow passage. My feet shuffle through the autumnal leaves layering the pavement like the carpet of tiny mummified bodies. The rustle fills me with melancholy like a sad ballad then a thought blasts in my head.

Maybe I should tell Seafra about the baby. Maybe he’d want to live with me in some place far from here where nobody could find us.

Can I ruin his life like my father ruined Ruby’s and mine? No, I can’t. He doesn’t belong to my world and I don’t belong to his. Our baby is in between, connecting us like a bridge, but neither of us can step onto that bridge. We’re condemned to stay at the opposite ends of the bridge, to crave each other, but never touch each other.

I approach my house and notice two figures standing at the doorstep. Fuck, they’re cops. I take a deep breath and flash them the sweetest of my smiles.

They interrogate me for two hours. I’m playing a sweet idiot.

“Really? Escaped?” I say. “Jack and Ruby went to do some shopping two hours ago. They’ll be back in a minute or two.”

The cops don’t seem to believe me, so I play a really stupid person.

“Maybe you mistaken us for somebody else?” I say.

They leave the house, shaking their heads.

Two weeks later, I walk from work.  A slim figure is sitting on the steps by the front door of my house. My heart stops beating as I recognise Ruby. Her eyes shift to mine and I see death in her gaze.