I look up at her, smiling because I know she’d love another boy. Girls are too much hard work as far as she’s concerned. Moving to a sitting position next to her, I say, “What makes you think that?” My mother has the most outlandish reasons for thinking and doing a lot of things, which never fails to amuse me.
She returns my smile. “I just know.”
My smile morphs into a grin. “Oh, I bet you do.”
Gran bustles into the room. “What are we betting on?”
I meet her gaze. “Just Mum and her crazy-ass way of doing things. She just told me how she knows she’s having a boy.”
“Don’t judge your mother, child. Not until you’ve been pregnant yourself. There’s something to be said for mothers just knowing things about their children.”
A feeling of utter grief hits me before I can tell myself not to feel it. Guilt sharply follows, and my sight blurs as I try to get my bearings because suddenly I feel like I can’t think, can’t see, can’t hear. I can’t deal.
Mum’s alarmed gaze comes to me right as I hurriedly move off the bed. “Zara! Wait.” She sits and attempts to leave the bed, but a bolt of pain stops her. I hear her cry of agony, but I’m unable to respond because my own agony consumes me. I need to get out of here.
“Zara,” Gran says, confusion clear in her voice, “What’s going on, darling?”
“I need to go. I’ll call later to check on Mum.”
I’m down the hall and outside in what feels like a second, I’m moving that fast. When I reach my car, I take a few minutes to catch my breath and calm myself enough to drive.
I’m going to be okay.
I can do this.
I’m not a bad person.
My phone rings, cutting through my thoughts. I’m so all over the place that I don’t check caller ID before answering it. “What?”
Holly’s voice hits me. “I see you’ve been hanging out with King a little too much.”
I hear what she says but I barely take it in. Gripping my phone hard, I say, “I’m not a bad person, am I, Hols?”
“Fuck, Zar, what’s happened?”
I ignore her question. “I would have kept the baby if I could.” I will not cry.
“I know you would have. You are not a bad person, Zara. Whoever told you that is a shitty, shitty person. Who was it?”
I pull in a long, desperately needed breath. “No one told me.” Only myself, and that may be far worse than anyone else telling me.
“Do you need me to come get you?”
“No, I’m okay to drive.” I will be. “What did you call for?”
“I was going to ask you to stop and pick up some pasta so I can cook us spaghetti for dinner, but I just want you to come straight home now. I’ll go out and get it.”
I take another long breath. “No, I’ll stop and get it.”
She turns silent, and I know she’s weighing up what to do. Holly might be a hard-ass, but she’s also a nurturer in her own way, and looking after me is a task she’s taken on since I moved in with her. “I don’t want you out there alone if you need me, so call me if you do. Okay?”
Exhaling, I nod even though she can’t see me. “I will. And I love you, Holly.”
“Yeah, you better.” And then she’s gone. Holly isn’t good with her emotions. She takes after Dad more than Mum when it comes to that, which is pretty much the opposite to me. Some days I wonder how we manage to share a house together with how different we are.
Turning the key in the ignition, I force all thoughts of the baby I aborted a month ago from my mind. I’ve been trying to do that ever since I had the abortion and it’s getting harder with
each passing day. Today is no different, but I do eventually manage to focus only on driving to the supermarket and buying pasta. I’m also going to pick up a few ingredients for some cakes I’ve decided to make tonight. I’m going to spend the night baking. I’m hoping it’ll be a good alternative to partying and drinking.