CHAPTER TWELVE
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, this can’t be happening. Aimee gazed at her husband aghast as her heart began to hammer against her ribcage. She knew by the heat that suffused her cheeks that she was puce with guilt.
‘Are you pregnant? Well, that explains a lot,’ Barry said slowly, staring intently at her. ‘Is that why you’ve been in such bad . . . er . . . ?’ He’d been going to say, ‘in such bad form,’ but he stopped himself. ‘Um . . . Looking peaky before you put your make-up on? I heard you being sick one morning, but you said it was a bug. Why didn’t you tell me, or when were you going to mention it?’
‘I . . . I . . .’ she stuttered uncharacteristically, completely thrown.
‘Oh, Mom, you and Dad . . . uugg! How majorly uncool.’ Melissa wrinkled her nose at the thought of her parents having sex.
‘Look, I thought I was, but I don’t think I am. OK?’ Aimee struggled to regain control of the situation.
‘Well, do the test then . . . duh!’ her daughter said with exaggerated condescension. Aimee felt like slapping her.
‘There’s no need. Just go away and leave me alone. I’m tired,’ she ordered.
Barry shot her a look, and his eyes narrowed as comprehension began to dawn. She could see it in his eyes, the realization that she hadn’t been going to tell him, the realization that perhaps she’d been going to do something untoward.
‘Yeah, why not do it now? Either you are or you’re not,’ he said, quietly challenging, and eye-balled her.
‘Come on, Mom. I want to see how it works,’ Melissa urged, whipping the packet from her father and giving it to Aimee, who nearly had a heart attack. She was really trapped now, she thought in panic. How could she refuse to do the test? Barry would cop what she was planning, if he hadn’t copped already.
‘Come on, share the news with us, seeing as we’re all here,’ Barry persisted.
‘Are you going to watch me pee?’ she snapped, unable to bite back the sharp retort.
‘Do I need to?’
There it was: the unspoken accusation. He knew what she’d been planning. They stared at each other. Stop bullying me, she wanted to shout. I will do this when I want to. When I choose to.
‘Aw, come on, Mom,’ Melissa begged, oblivious to the tension between her parents. ‘Can I watch the lines turning blue? If it’s a boy, I’ll go mental.’
‘It doesn’t matter what our child is, as long as it’s healthy.’ Barry stared at her. ‘Isn’t that right, Aimee?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, defeated. She got out of bed and went into the bathroom with the package, closing the door firmly behind her. If Melissa hadn’t been there, Barry would probably have insisted on going in. Aimee sank on to the toilet seat and put her head in her hands. Would ordinary water work on it, she wondered in panic. But wasn’t it the hormone in the urine that caused the line to go blue? Could she let it fall down the loo? She was desperate for options. She knew she was grasping at straws. Knowing her husband, he’d probably go out and buy half a dozen kits until she did it properly. Barry would know if she fudged it. He was clearly suspicious already. He knew her so well, she thought in despair.
She could argue with him about her right to go for a termination. And she would. She could tell Melissa that she’d miscarried. Her daughter’s reaction to her mother’s possible pregnancy had been far from encouraging. Maybe it was better this way, she reflected, staring at the kit in her hand. At least she wouldn’t have to carry the burden of her decision alone. Barry could stand by her or not. That would be his decision to make.
Resigned, she tore the wrapping off the wand, lifted up the toilet seat and sat down ready to pee. Her stomach was churning and her throat was dry. Seeing her pregnancy confirmed would be a jolt. Even though in her heart and soul she knew she was pregnant, without the test to confirm it she’d had some small comfort that maybe she wasn’t, that perhaps it was only her imagination.
Melissa was knocking on the door. ‘Bring it out. Can I see the line changing colour?’
‘Hold on,’ exclaimed Aimee tetchily as she positioned the scarifying instrument which brought untold joy to hundreds of thousands and untold misery to just as many more.
It seemed as though time slowed and all she could hear was the steady flow of her urine, as loud in her ears as Niagara Falls. Tears smarted her eyes. She was a grown adult. What right had her husband and daughter to be standing outside, like the police waiting on a criminal? She should have refused point blank to take the test and told them she’d do it in her own time. How dare Barry treat her in such an authoritative manner? He was as bad as her father, she thought in fury, and she knew she’d never forgive him for making her feel like an impotent little girl again. She laid the damp wand on the sink and wiped her eyes with some loo roll. She wouldn’t let them see her crying.
She flushed the loo, washed her hands and wiped the wand dry and, head up, shoulders back, she walked back into the bedroom. Barry was staring out the window, and Melissa was sitting on the end of the bed. She handed her daughter the wand. ‘Look for two blue lines if it’s positive. One if it’s negative,’ she instructed flatly, and got into bed again. She was staying there for the day, she decided.
‘Oooohhh!’ squealed Melissa. ‘It’s starting to turn. Ohmigod, ohmigod, Mom, this is nerve-wracking.’
Aimee almost puked she was so tense. What if, by some miracle, it was negative, she thought wildly. Would the gods be that kind to her? Barry would be going for the snip whatever happened, she decided viciously. That was, if he wanted a sex life. Right now, the way she felt, if she never saw a dick again it wouldn’t bother her in the slightest. And that was saying something for a woman who, until the last year or so, had always thoroughly enjoyed sex.
‘Oh yikes! It’s very faint, but it’s getting stronger.’ Melissa gave a running commentary, completely engrossed in the process, eyes glued to the slender white rod.
Stop. Please, please stop, Aimee pleaded silently. This was torture. She slanted a glance at Barry. He was granite-faced. He knew she was pregnant. He didn’t need to wait for the results.
‘Mom, there’s two – look, look.’ Melissa thrust the tester under Aimee’s nose. The two blue lines were unmistakable.
‘I can see it,’ she murmured.
‘Look, Dad, look.’ Melissa got off the bed and teetered over to him, waving the stick triumphantly.
Barry studied it in silence. ‘When do you think you’re due?’ he said finally.
‘Mid-January.’ She shrugged.
‘Oh, Mom, does this mean we can’t go skiing? Bad buzz, Mom. Everyone in the class is going skiing. God, it’s going to be so weird having a brother or sister fourteen years younger than me. Don’t forget – I’m fourteen next month.’
‘How could I forget that?’ Aimee arched an eyebrow at her.
‘You’re not that far gone yet, then?’ Barry said.
‘No, only a few weeks.’ She lay back against her pillows, white-faced with stress. ‘I think I’ll try and go back asleep. Are you going for coffee?’
‘Yes. Can we bring you back anything?’ he asked politely, as if he were talking to a stranger.
She shook her head, turned over and pulled up the sheet around her shoulders.
‘Are you feeling sick, Mom? Have you got morning sickness?’ Melissa asked kindly, tucking her in.
A lump the size of a golfball lodged in Aimee’s throat at her daughter’s unexpected sympathy. ‘Yes, I feel very sick,’ she said forlornly, and then she was crying, great big, heaving sobs that shook her slender body.
Barry stopped in his tracks and turned back as Melissa put her arms around her mother. ‘Don’t cry, Mom,’ she said helplessly. ‘Please don’t cry. I’ll help you. I didn’t mean to moan about skiing, honest.’ It was so rare for Aimee to cry. Unheard of almost. She didn’t like to see her mother showing any sign of fragility.
‘Go back asleep, Aimee. We’ll talk about everything later.’ Barry’s tone was softer, and he patted her shoulder awkwardly. ‘Stop crying. Everything will be fine.’
No, it won’t be. It’s a disaster for me and nobody cares, she wanted to yell, but she was very conscious of her daughter staring anxiously down at her.
‘It’s just hormones.’ Aimee managed to compose herself. ‘Go and have your coffee, and enjoy it, darling.’ She squeezed Melissa’s hand but couldn’t bring herself to look at her husband. He had laid claim to the child within her, and Aimee knew her needs were of secondary importance to him now. She was back to being a second-class citizen, just as she had been all the years under her father’s roof. Even Barry, the man she had trusted most in her life to be her champion, had let her down.
‘See you later, Mom. Don’t worry about anything.’ Melissa leaned down and kissed Aimee’s cheek, her blue eyes dark and round with anxiety.
‘Thanks, darling. Don’t forget your purse,’ she reminded.
‘Oh yeah, thanks, Mom.’ Melissa picked up her purse, the cause of the whole episode in the first place. Aimee sighed with relief when they left the room and she was blessedly alone. She heard Melissa clop-clop down the wooden-floored hall, and then sweet silence descended on the penthouse when she heard the front door close behind them.
She and Barry would have to talk big time. Maybe if she told him about her job offer, he might be more understanding of how much an unwanted pregnancy and an unwanted child would be a calamity for her. It might help him understand why she wanted a termination. If he didn’t, and he insisted on her going through with the pregnancy, their marriage was over, she vowed.
And, if she did stick to her guns and go and have a termination, it would be the end of them from his point of view. Whatever they decided, one of them was going to be the loser. Aimee lay wide-eyed and tense, shocked beyond belief that her hitherto almost perfect life had turned into a complete and absolute disaster.