“No,” Cy snaps. “No way.”
“What if she takes one look at Cami and decides she wants her back?” Jack points out. “Who the Hell wouldn’t want her as their daughter?”
“Then we talk about it,” I say, nausea squeezing my throat.
Cyrus’s mouth falls open. “Are you freakingkidding me?She doesn’t belong to that woman, she’sours.”
“We have to speak to her,” I insist. “I don’t care if it’s in-person, or over Skype, or in a bloody email. But weneedto know that she really doesn’t want her. That she’s not going to try and take her back.”
Even the thought of losing Cami is horrendous at this point. I have plenty of sympathy for addicts; addiction is a disease, and it should be treated like one. But, addiction or not, Cami’s mother is still responsible for her actions. My sympathy doesn’t stretch to someone abandoning my child on a fucking doorstep, where she could have been kidnapped or hurt or frozen to death.
I press my lips together as I type out the email. I seriously doubt her mother could regain custody of Cami soon; but in a year or two, if she stays clean and has a change of heart, she might want her kid back. I know the court is often skewed in the mother’s favour in custody cases. I need to know I can keep Cami with me. I can’t spend her whole childhood wondering if she’s going to get taken away.
The guys lapse into silence. Cami’s wailing reaches a new crescendo, and a very familiar smell reaches my nostrils.
“Oh,fu—dge,” Cyrus says. “Crap. Crap, crap, crap.” He lifts Cami, who is now squirming in her extremely full nappy, and passes her to me. “Your sperm, man.”
“We have to change her in that broom closet?” Jack asks, sounding horrified. “How is that even possible?”
“What if there’s turbulence?” I mutter, clutching Cami closer. She presses her face into my neck, wetting my collar with tears. “What if I drop her?”
There’s a long pause. Cyrus slumps back in his seat. “I miss Beth,” he mutters.
Fifty-Eight
Beth
As soon as I realise how late I am, I grab my keys and run to the local pharmacy. I buy three pregnancy tests, from three different brands, and the cashier gives me a sympathetic look as she prints my receipt. When I get home, I sprint into the bathroom and rip them open, taking them one by one.
Every single one comes out negative. I sit on my toilet seat, staring at the three littlenegativesymbols.
This makes no sense.
Maybe it’s all in my head, but I feel different. I’ve felt different for the past few weeks, but I haven’t been able to put my finger on it. It’s like something in my body has changed. I’ve been emotional and bloated. My boobs have been more tender. I’ve felt sick and hot a lot. And now my periods have stopped. How the Hell can Inotbe pregnant?
So I book an appointment at the clinic for later today.
It all happens very quickly. I see the doctor at two. He makes me fill in a survey about my symptoms. There are over a hundred questions, asking about everything from headaches, to hot flashes, to mood swings. When he reads my answers over, he immediately orders a blood draw and an ultrasound. I have to go to the hospital to get the tests done.
As I lay back in the hospital bed, getting cold goop spread over my stomach by a nurse, I can’t help but feel sad. I always imagined that the first time I had an ultrasound, I’d have a man sitting in the chair next to me, holding my hand. I consider texting the guys to tell them what I’m doing, but they’re still travelling. After some deliberation, I figure I should wait until I have a solid answer. It’s stressful enough, flying internationally with a baby, and the convention is really important. There’s no point scaring the shit out of them if this turns out to be a false alarm.
Besides, whatever the result, I’d really like to tell them face-to-face.
The next morning, I get the call. By nine AM, I’m sitting in the doctor’s office again, waiting for the results. My hands are sweating with nerves. While I wait for the doctor to come in, I pull out my phone.
I only got one message from the guys last night: a quick photo message from Cyrus, showing Jack and Seb sprawled in a big double bed. Seb is holding a crying Cami, trying to feed her, while Jack is trying to distract her with her lion. They both look exhausted.
Got in safe,Cyrus texted underneath.Cami misses you xxx
I trace the picture with my eyes, taking a deep breath.
I’m scared. I know right now, if I am pregnant, I’m going to keep it. It will be hard—I’m nowhere near ready—but I’ll get by. Worse comes to the worst, Cami has a sibling to play with. Right?
My pep talk doesn’t work. Nausea slides down my throat. I’m not sure if it’s morning sickness or just anxiety.I clutch my mum’s bracelet, hoping it’ll give me a tiny scrap of strength.
The doctor steps into the room, holding a clipboard. He’s a tall man with white hair and a thick moustache. “Good morning, Beth,” he greets, settling down in the chair opposite mine.
“Morning.” I smile at him nervously, but he doesn’t smile back. His face is grave. Which it shouldn’t be, should it? Whether I’m pregnant or not, there’s no reason to look at me like I’m dying.