—17—
The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald
Route 86 tram to Bundoora RMIT via Smith Street
The tram held but a few travellers, spread out along the carriage, each firmly guarding their personal space. Frankie and Cat sat in the second-last row, their eyes trained on the seat that now cradled a copy of The Great Gatsby, unlawfully taken from The Little Brunswick Street Bookshop discount bin. ‘How this classic ever ended up in there is the real crime!’ Cat had told Claud as she swiped it on her way out. Frankie’s mind kept trailing back to her blog, and the momentum it had picked up in the few weeks she had been writing it. She’d been receiving ego-boosting emails about how funny and brazen she was and how people loved her writing style. It gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, writing another book was not off the cards for her, just yet. Maybe this is my year, she thought. If I can just keep going with this blog.
‘Why couldn’t Claud come? I don’t know a thing about antenatal classes, but I’m guessing he might have a role to play?’ Frankie asked.
‘Oh, Claud wasn’t interested in attending a class weeks before I’m meant to attend it. Plus, panting females in the downward dog position isn’t really his scene.’
‘That’s surprising, I thought it would be exactly his scene,’ Frankie countered, to which Cat responded with a swift but playful elbow to her side.
‘Any word from Edward Cullen?’ asked Cat, without averting her gaze from the as-yet-unnoticed book.
‘Nope.’
‘And you’re sticking to the freeze-out?’
‘What do you think?’ Frankie momentarily diverted her attention from the waiting book. ‘He’s obviously already spoken for. And I refuse to be party to that.’
‘You’re hardly one to talk, Bridget Jones. You’re still playing the field.’
‘It’s not the same,’ Frankie bit back. ‘One: my dating escapades are merely a half-arsed social experiment to give me something to write about. Two: need I remind you that you’re the one who convinced me to go for it in the first place? And three: none of these people has made it to screensaver status!’
‘Whatever you say, Anna Karenina.’
The tram jolted to a stop. A father and his toddler stumbled off and were quickly replaced by a tall, lanky man who looked to be in his late twenties. He wore beige chinos and a navy T-shirt, and he clasped a phone and a book, one on top of the other, in his hand. Frankie and Cat tried not to gasp, and squeezed each other’s hands. In unison they leaned forward, straining to catch a glimpse of the cover. The Art of Racing in the Rain.
‘He’s the one,’ Cat gushed.
‘Come on, you dog-loving bookworm, go get that book,’ Frankie quietly coaxed.
The man swiped his travel card, took a suspicious peek at the gawking women and sat down two rows in front of the book. They sighed. It was too good to be true. Moving with the rhythm of the tram, Frankie and Cat resumed their journey, staring at the waiting book.
‘And what about Lord of the Cries? Any word from him or his therapist?’
‘Yep, he sent through a long-winded apology an hour ago. Apparently sobbing wildly over his ex on the first date doesn’t give credit to his “full personality”,’ Frankie air quoted.
‘Just be sure to let him down easy. It doesn’t sound like he can handle any more rejection.’
‘Him and me both, Cat. Him and me both. Is it crazy that I would have been maybe willing to give him another go? If it wasn’t for his crude proposition at the end, I mean. Am I getting desperate?’
‘Yes,’ Cat responded without missing a beat.
The tram slowed, coming to a stop next to a cluster of shops and cafes. Frankie rose from her seat, pulling Cat up with her. As they navigated past the cute guy stooped over his book, Cat nudged him with her toe, gave him a knowing look and nodded her head in the direction of their novel calling card. The man looked back dubiously as they stepped off into the welcoming heat and eased their way onto the footpath.
Google Maps led them around the corner to a red-brick, Victorian-style shop front adorned with a sign: Yo Mama. Upon opening the door they were confronted by a long, very narrow staircase.
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ Cat called out, hands on her burgeoning belly. ‘Which skinny bitch decided on this layout?’
They squeezed up the stairs, passing photos of women cradling their swollen bellies and wrinkled, shrieking newborns. Frankie felt a deep longing in her gut that she didn’t know existed and that, just like a surprise twist in a novel, shocked her. Then again, she thought as she followed Cat slowly to the top, everyone else seems to be telling me to settle down, find a partner and start a family. Why not my body too?
A very heavily pregnant woman and her partner brushed past, nudging Frankie and Cat down the long hallway as they followed the arrows to the class in silence. Frankie mentally prepped for the next hour. Before entering the class, Cat pulled Frankie in tight, whispering her thanks in her ear before she opened the door.
Frankie tentatively peered around the corner, bracing herself for what lay ahead, and her heart sank. Ads.
‘He’s here,’ she hissed.
‘Who?’ Cat shouted back.
‘Keep your voice down!’ Frankie pointed her chin forward, beckoning Cat to look at the horrible sight she saw before her eyes.
There, surrounded by pregnant women and their doting partners, stood Ads and – Oh dear God, screamed Frankie in her mind – Ads’ new girlfriend. Thanks to Frankie’s casual online stalking, she knew Ads and Priya couldn’t have been together much longer than a year. Frankie may have known that she existed on Facebook, but seeing her in the flesh – pregnant – brought goosebumps to her own skin.
Just then, Ads looked up and caught Frankie’s eye. She tried to look away, but it was too late. He headed straight for her.
This is not happening. This is not happening, Frankie chanted in her head.
‘Frankie,’ Ads said as he reached her, ‘it’s good to see you. You know, I was just thinking about you the other day.’ His girlfriend trailed behind him.
Frankie inhaled sharply, Cat took her hand and squeezed. A whirlwind of emotions swept over her, so much so that she could barely breathe, let alone talk. Cat nudged her.
‘Ads, what are you doing here?’ Frankie uttered, and then immediately realised how stupid she sounded. Of course she knew why he was here.
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ The woman stepped out from behind Ads, looped one arm through his and pressed her hand to her neatly distended belly.
This is not happening. This is not happening.
‘And you are?’ Cat jutted in, knowing very well who she was.
‘Priya, Adam’s girlfriend.’
Frankie couldn’t help but stare. Priya was a petite woman, that Frankie knew, but Facebook hadn’t prepared her for Priya’s dewy bronzed skin and luscious locks, which seemed to glow, even in the low-lit room. Frankie could hear the faint click of Ads’ tongue, his not-so-subtle nervous twitch.
Priya stroked Ads’ hand. ‘Frankie, congratulations. You two make a fine pair.’ She wiggled a bony finger from Cat to Frankie.
‘Yes!’ Cat tugged Frankie towards her, pinched her bum and kissed her cheek. ‘We’re just so excited to welcome our little angel into the world. And it only took one sperm donor to do the trick,’ she gushed.
‘Frankie,’ Ads chimed, ‘a parent? The same woman who couldn’t keep a pot plant alive for more than a few days?’ He laughed uneasily, clicking his tongue again.
‘Oh no, I’m not, we’re not,’ Frankie stuttered.
Priya smirked and feelings of inadequacy washed over Frankie.
‘What Frankie is trying to say—’ Cat began before being interrupted by a stout woman prancing into the room.
‘All right, mums and dads!’ the woman began, ushering people into order, ‘time to get those bellies breathing!’
Frankie looked gratefully at the instructor as the pack dispersed. Cat ushered her over to a spare yoga mat, a mere six people away from Ads – Could this room be any more intimate? – and gave her hand a final, reassuring squeeze before balancing her delighted self on the fit ball. Frankie crouched down next to her.
‘Now, never underestimate the power of a good kegel routine, ladies,’ the woman chanted from the front of the room. ‘We need to keep that pelvic floor tight!’
Frankie exhaled deeply and trained her peripheral vision towards Ads. Priya was stretched out on her mat, nestled between Ads’ open arms. Ads stroked her legs, and she giggled at something he whispered in her ear. Frankie breathed in. Here he was, the man who used to be her future, embracing his new future with someone else. She tried not to stare, but she couldn’t draw her eyes away. Since when did you even want a family? The question lingered bitterly in her mouth.
‘Love, embrace her buttocks like so.’ The instructor was now kneeling deep between Cat’s knees with her arms reaching around, clutching Cat’s behind, demonstrating to the class what to do.
‘Oh, I’m okay, thanks,’ Frankie muttered awkwardly.
The instructor shrugged, stepped away and began to guide the class through a series of low-belly breathing techniques.
‘Frankston, you’re so tense,’ Cat burbled as she stretched her left leg to the side. ‘How can you expect my cervix to blossom when you’re grinding your teeth so loud the next-door neighbours can hear you?’
‘What am I supposed to do?’ Frankie hissed. ‘My day has been hijacked by the man who did a hit-and-run number on my heart! And did I mention he’s managed to climb to the top of the corporate ladder and knock up some two-bit beauty in the same time that I’ve found three grey hairs and become Period Girl?’
‘I’m sorry, Frank, do you want to go?’ Cat asked.
‘No, no. I’m okay,’ Frankie said, biting her tongue.
Twenty minutes to go, she intoned silently. Think of your best friend’s unborn child. Ignore the happy family that your ex is creating.
‘Now,’ the instructor called, ‘you may find the “Swaying” or the “Slow Dance” position soothing during the early stages of labour. Mums and dads, allow your partner to place her arms around your shoulders. She should rest her head on your chest and sway gently back and forth.’ Frankie helped Cat into a standing position and draped her arms around her back. Over Cat’s head, Frankie watched Ads as he embraced Priya, his lips grazing her forehead. Frankie’s pulse quickened. Just get a dagger and stab me through the chest already! In an attempt to avert her eyes, she abruptly swivelled Cat around, but her foot caught on the edge of the mat and she toppled to the floor, taking Cat with her.
‘Frankie!’ Cat exclaimed. ‘Watch out for the pregnant woman!’ All eyes turned towards them. Frankie could feel Priya’s smirk itching up her back.
‘Oh God, are you okay, Cat? I’m so sorry, I tripped,’ Frankie fussed, helping her friend onto the ball.
‘Frankie, I know they’re getting under your skin.’ Cat whispered with a nod in Ads’ direction. They watched, mesmerised for a moment, as Ads and Priya laughed together quietly.
‘You know what? I have had it up to here with this class!’ Frankie could feel herself losing it. There was no going back now. ‘I’m really sorry, Cat,’ she said as she grabbed her bag from behind the fit ball and stormed out the door, hearing Priya and Ads snicker as she left. Frankie marched down the stairs and threw herself out the front door. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and dialled her dad’s number.
‘Dad,’ she yelled, when he answered on the third ring. ‘Guess who I just saw at Cat’s antenatal class? Ads, that’s who. With his girlfriend Priya who is none other than pregnant. PREGNANT!’ Frankie paused to catch her breath and listened to her dad breathing into the earpiece. ‘His new baby mama! Can you believe it?’ Frankie dashed down the street, gesturing wildly. ‘He told me he couldn’t fathom having children for at least six years! And now he’s knocked up some beautiful Daisy Buchanan! Cat didn’t even ask me if I wanted to leave until it was too late. Oh, and did I mention that Sunny, the guy who I’ve been casually seeing, was cheating on me the whole time? That’s right, Dad. He made me the other woman! It’s all too much. I can’t seem to get anything right these days.’ Frankie slowed her pace. With her phone pressed to her ear, she navigated her way through the suddenly crowded footpath, winding her way between prams and couples holding hands. ‘It’ll be okay. It’s just been a bad case of A Series of Unfortunate Events. Thanks for the chat. You always know how to make me feel better. I should go. Have a good afternoon, Dad. Oh,’ Frankie added, ‘please don’t tell Mum about this.’
She hung up the phone, opened Twitter and started to scroll.
@Adamsegler: Enjoyed antenatal class with my new baby crew @priyavinay and @catinthehat (where’s Frankie)?