Tilly
There was a time when Tilly thought that graduating university and getting jobs were the most adult things any of them were going to do. Then Sean bought a house with his queerplatonic partner Cal, whom Tilly adored, and they all started attending weddings and people were having babies.
Planned babies.
And Tilly trailed behind, stuck. Unable to do any of that.
But now Evie was pregnant. And Tilly swallowed what she’d wanted to say. The secret, just the one, that she’d thought about sharing. She locked it down deep, and ignored her heart racing in her chest, the panic prickling at her fingertips. Her best friend needed her.
They hadn’t spoken much since Evie had thrown up on her lap. Tilly smoothed a hand over the wrinkled but clean jeans she’d tugged out of her bag, already missing the overalls she could hear going around and around in the washing machine. “So…did you use protection?”
Well, that was a hypocritical question. Tilly had definitely not done that herself a few times.
The look Evie gave her over her bent knees would have withered flowers.
It only made Tilly grin as she tugged Evie’s feet into her lap and leaned back against the couch. “No, but really, did you?”
Evie huffed. “Yes. We did.”
“You stopped taking the pill, didn’t you?”
“Years ago. I wasn’t sleeping with anyone who required it, and it was wreaking havoc with my skin, so I stopped. You know this.”
“Just, you know…bummer.”
That glare tripled in its intensity, but Tilly could see a twitch at the corner of Evie’s lips. A grin curled on her own. She loved fake-grumpy Evie.
“Yes,” Evie gritted out. “Bummer. Clearly.” Then she stared down at her stomach as if it had betrayed her.
Tilly wasn’t proud of her next thought, and she wished she were a bigger person than to even let it creep into her brain. Or a bigger person than to have her stomach sink at the thought of it, at least. “Are you—Are you seeing the person still?”
Evie sighed, her cheeks pink. Even though she talked about sex pretty regularly, she always blushed at the mention of it. “No.” She even rolled her eyes. “It was one night, right after you left. I was out and had some drinks. I haven’t seen him since.”
“A one-night stand?” Tilly placed her hand over her heart, let her mouth fall open. “Well, Miss Evie, I do declare!”
The snort Evie gave was undignified and delightful, and Tilly ignored the flutter of relief that he wasn’t in the picture. Which she had no right to at all.
“Your Southern American accent is awful.”
Tilly gasped even louder. “Is not. It’s brilliant. My ex told me so.”
“Your ex told you whatever you wanted to hear.”
Well, that was true.
“See, you have no retort.” Evie smirked.
Tilly pinched Evie’s toe and Evie squirmed away but midway lost energy for it, dropping her head onto the back of the couch, letting out a long, seemingly never-ending, drawn-out, “Fuck.” She turned her head so she could bury her face into the couch and groaned loudly.
All Tilly could do was rub her foot consolingly. When Evie turned her face back around, her eyes were red-rimmed and lost, and Tilly still had no words to offer. Evie was the strong one. The one who made good decisions, who was a rock, who made Tilly feel better when things were crumbling. Tilly was the one who ran away.
“Tilly.” Evie’s voice was raw. “What the fuck am I going to do?”
And if there were ever a moment Tilly wished she was someone else, that she was a better person, she wished it was then, to take that look out of her best friend’s eyes and actually have something to offer. Something tangible and helpful, not dressed-up words and useless looks.
She tried anyway. “Well,” Tilly started, then ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Well, there are, there are options.”
Evie groaned again and turned her face back into the couch.
So, not the right thing to say then.
“Sorry. I mean, um…”
“No, no.” It came out muffled as Evie looked at her again, hair frizzing around her head from rubbing back and forth against the cushion. “You’re right, there are options.”
And Evie stared at her.
Right, so it was Tilly’s job to list them. “Well, one. You could have an abortion.” Evie blinked at her and Tilly kept going. “Two, you give it up for adoption. Three, you keep it.”
Three options.
“Is there no secret fourth option?”
“You ignore it and hope it goes away? You just pretend it isn’t happening and act surprised in however many months?”
“You’re so unhelpful.”
“You know you missed me.”
And Evie’s eyes went serious, the smile on her lips fading as she ducked her head a little and Tilly wanted to capture that moment so she could watch it again and again. But that moment was gone already. Like all of them went, eventually. “I did.”
A lump bloomed in Tilly’s throat, hard to swallow past and hard to ignore. She squeezed Evie’s foot again. She thought on all the things she’d wanted to say before she’d seen that stick. Starting with the apology for that awful night before she’d left. And then an explanation. And then… “I missed you too. What would I do without my best friend?”
And Evie finally smiled again, eyes still red, but her Evie-smile, nonetheless. And Tilly knew she was right to not say it; she was right to swallow it all back down.
It would never happen, the two of them, the possibility of more. Because Tilly wasn’t good enough for her, and definitely wasn’t good enough for the little bean growing in her stomach.
Uterus.
Whatever.
Evie needed Tilly to be her best friend. So Tilly would be there for her.
Evie shuffled closer and smushed in as close as their weird angle allowed. “Do I need to decide right now?”
Tilly awkwardly got her arm wrapped half around Evie’s shoulder, half around her back and tugged her in, her head falling against Tilly’s ear as they shared space. “No. You’ve got a little time.”
“Good.”
“Evie, about…before I left. I—”
“Forget it. I just—don’t worry about it. There are more important things going on.”
Tilly bit her lip. “Are you sure—maybe we should…talk.”
“It’s fine,” Evie whispered. “Can we go to sleep?”
Not the least bit tired after sleeping on the plane, Tilly nodded and followed Evie to the bathroom, her toothbrush there to use whenever she stayed, still in its cup.
And just like every time, Tilly was surprised to see it there.
* * *
If Tilly closed her eyes and concentrated, she could hear Evie’s soft, even breathing through each of their slightly open doors. It was a soft rhythm to focus on, but focusing wasn’t something Tilly was managing at all. Her gaze remained trained on the ceiling overhead, barely blinking and trying not to panic on behalf of Evie.
How was Evie even sleeping?
Before Tilly had left, they’d been closer than ever. Neither of them had been seeing anyone, and they’d been sharing a bed more nights than not. So much time had passed since Tilly had last left, and the two of them had grown so comfortable.
But here she was, in the spare room. With no Evie next to her.
Sleep was impossible.
She always missed Evie and the contact they shared; the easy, unassuming way they moved around each other, as if they’d been doing it forever. Usually, Tilly could return and slip back into her life as if nothing had changed. She’d crash at Evie’s, at least until she found somewhere else, depending on Evie’s life situation. Picked up a part-time or casual job if her freelance work wasn’t enough at the time, which, after building her business for so long, wasn’t often the case anymore. Tilly would then show up to a few friends’ gatherings, hand rubbing at the back of her neck and smiling as if she hadn’t even left, and after a week or two it was as if she hadn’t.
A baby would change all of that.
Evie would also change. Tilly knew that—knew it like she knew too many things. Hell, the baby would change. What if Tilly left for a year again? What if that itch in her feet became too much, burning at her insides so harshly that she had to stay away for fear of sparking and setting her entire life on fire? And she’d come back and the fuzzy baby would be something that was walking and talking. Or at least would be more of a solid person. That thought made her squeeze her eyes shut.
The people in her life were too good for that.
Evie was too good for that.
The look on Evie’s face in the bathroom, the unbridled panic, the way even her lips had trembled as she’d clutched that awful stick with that awful truth on it. How, for a second, she’d looked so lost. Exactly like the night their first year at uni when she’d had far too much vodka—the devil’s piss, as Evie called it now—and talked about her father. How she’d said he had hollowed out some little part of her, and in that moment, Tilly had been able to see that tiny hollowed-out part in the lost look in her eye.
As she had on the edge of that bathtub. With that stupid stick. Right before she’d thrown up all over Tilly’s lap.
Exactly like she had way back in their uni days after too much drinking.
Guilt twisted in Tilly’s guts at that stupid fight they’d had in the rain, outside the pub, right before she’d left.
Evie in pain was never something Tilly handled very well. Being the cause of it, she handled even worse.
Tilly had hurt her once, that first time she’d taken off, young and selfish and not realising people in her life at the time would care that much. But never again.
She’d promised. She’d promised Sean. She’d promised herself.
But most of all, she’d promised Evie.
A stupid, immature promise you make at nineteen when your friend was sad and looking at you with wide, wet eyes. Because people hurt people, it was what they did. Inevitable. They made each other happy and they tore each other apart. If you were lucky, you did more of the former than the latter.
Tilly, though?
She did more of the latter.
Her skin felt too hot even though there was only a sheet thrown over her legs, and her heart was thrumming away. It would be so easy to get up. To slip out and go again.
She’d just got back.
But she could do it. Before she made an even bigger mess, before she made it all harder for Evie, instead of easier. Before she broke that promise.
Slowly, she sucked in a breath and let it out, counting. She focused on Evie’s breathing, the sound still steady.
At the count of thirty, she still felt too warm, overheated, overextended. As if she could crawl out her skin.
At seventy, Evie’s breathing in the other room quietened completely. Maybe she was awake now, staring anxiously up at the ceiling. Maybe… Maybe she was missing Tilly next to her, but was too mad to slip into their usual habit of sharing a bed.
Or too worried to do so, because who knew if Tilly was going to leave again.
Tilly couldn’t go anywhere.
Not yet.
Evie needed her.
* * *
“Wait, are you—Should you be drinking coffee?”
A withering glare was sent her way over the brim of Evie’s coffee mug.
Tilly winced. “What? Come on, Evie.” She held her cup against her chest. “When it comes to pregnancy, don’t people always make noise about coffee, alcohol, and sometimes about sex?”
Nailed it. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Evie’s cheeks turned pink. Tilly grinned into her own mug, ignoring the way the coffee burnt her lips because it was worth it. The sun filtered through the kitchen window, patterns splashing out on the floor, and the rumble of a lawnmower came through the open door that led to Evie’s little backyard.
“How should I know?” Evie shrugged, mug held against her cheek, baggy sleeve of her oversized hoodie falling down. All at home and relaxed and comfortable. “My knowledge is all from bad sitcoms. And I’m sure one bad sitcom said that one or two cups of coffee are fine.”
“Twenty minutes ago, you literally woke up because you thought you were going to throw up, how are you drinking coffee?”
It was a stupid question. Evie could always drink coffee.
Evie shrugged. “Now I feel fine. Maybe I’m not pregnant. Maybe the test was false.”
“And you just have a badly timed stomach bug? And your boobs are bigger just because? And you’re late just bec—”
“Okay! Okay!” Evie dropped her chin to her chest and stared down. She made a noise of disgust. “They really are bigger. This sucks.”
Normally, Tilly would laugh. Make some kind of joke. But Evie hadn’t looked up and her voice had cracked on that last word. Instead, Tilly put her mug down and took the few steps across the kitchen to wrap her arms around her friend. Evie’s left hand was trapped against Tilly’s stomach, the warm mug wedged between them, but her right clung to Tilly’s back so hard, fingertips digging in, that it almost hurt. As with every hug of theirs borne of neediness, Tilly pressed her lips into Evie’s hair as Evie buried her face into Tilly’s neck, warm breath washing over her collarbones.
“I’m kind of terrified.” Evie’s voice was a whisper against her neck.
“I know.”
“I also kind of feel like it’s not happening.”
Tilly pulled her in tighter. “Want me to go buy ten more pregnancy tests and you can pee on all of them? Line them up in the bathroom like a little peed-on-stick-parade of truth?” A wet-sounding snort was blown into her neck. “Ew, Evie.”
“Well, don’t be funny then.”
And Evie didn’t pull away. So neither did Tilly. She instead rocked them a little, side to side. Outside, the lawnmower was still droning on and the sun was shining brighter than ever, streaming through the window over the sink.
Tilly loved this area. Cottesloe was right near the beach and the roads were lined with trees. The area was a mix of small flats, duplexes, and houses. If they left Evie’s place, they only had to walk thirty seconds over the crest of a little hill and they’d be staring at the ocean and all the early morning runners and swimmers and rowers. It felt like home. Smelt like it. The salty scent of the air and Evie’s shampoo.
“Remember when I had the pregnancy scare in the second year of uni?” Simply the memory of it made Tilly feel sick. She’d been on the pill and they’d used condoms. But still, the utter horror at the thought she’d possibly been pregnant. That prickling up the back of her spine, the way her fingers went numb.
The laugh Evie gave was less wet, but still muffled in Tilly’s neck. “Oh my God, I’d forgotten. You were so panicked.”
“Of course I was! I was twenty and Ben was an idiot and I was an idiot and I thought we were spawning.”
“That’s a disgusting way to word it.”
“Well, it’s how I thought of it. Proof it was a blessing to us all I was just late.”
Evie sighed. “I wanna be just late.”
Tilly dropped a kiss above her ear, hair soft against her lips. “I know.”
“Maybe I am.”
And this time, Tilly answered, “Maybe.”
“You’re indulging me.”
“Never.”
Someone knocked at the door and they untangled from the hug, Evie’s cheeks pink and eyes a little glassy.
Her cheeks had been bright pink right during that rainy pub night, right before Tilly had run off. Lit up in anger. Now though, the pink was gentle. And soft.
The knock came again and Tilly realised Evie hadn’t moved away, so she took another step back. “Expecting anyone?”
And Evie grinned.
“Evie.” Tilly’s voice filled with dread. “Evie, no.”
Evie kept grinning and walked through the open-plan kitchen and lounge room, which meant Tilly could watch every step.
Tilly dropped her voice to a hiss. “Evie! You did not! No—Don’t you answer that door—”
Evie turned around, stuck her tongue out, and pulled the door open. Tilly only managed to plaster a smile on her face in the nick of time.
“What’s so urgent I had to be here at sparrow’s fart? I only got in half my rowing training—” Sean, a good head taller than Evie—not that that was hard, something Tilly would point out later as revenge for this ambush—caught sight of Tilly standing in the kitchen.
In her bare feet and flimsy pyjama shorts, she felt as if she’d been caught in the Middle Ages with no armour. She raised a hand and flapped it in an attempt at a wave in Sean’s direction.
He narrowed his eyes. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
“Hi, Sean. I missed you too.”
They stared at each other for another beat and he finally grinned and she laughed. He sidestepped Evie and Tilly met him halfway in the kind of hug that always almost cracked her back and felt as much like home as this flat did. His dark brown skin was glowing from all the rowing in the sun. He smelt like ocean salt mixed with sunscreen. He smelt like everything she made sure she came back to.
“She didn’t tell you she messaged me, did she?”
Tilly shook her head, nose squashed into his neck. She pushed up on her tiptoes and glowered over his shoulder at Evie, who merely closed the door and wiggled her fingers at Tilly.
“I can’t be bothered giving you a hard time today, I’m just glad you’re back. Cal will be so happy you’re here to indulge their sport needs.” Sean pulled away and cupped her face and stared into her eyes like he did every time. As if he needed to be sure she was there, in one piece. “Evie’s been miserable this entire time.”
“I have not.” With red ears, Evie walked past them to the kitchen and reached for the kettle. Her hoodie hung lower than her shorts, too big and engulfing her.
“She has.” His voice was playful, but he was looking at her all too seriously.
Tilly tore her gaze away from him. He’d seen too much. Knew her too well. She kept everything buried down for a reason.
In the kitchen, Sean took the mug of instant coffee from Evie with a smile and settled at the little rickety table that mismatched with two equally rickety chairs that Evie refused to throw away. “All right, why am I here so early? Evie, you’re never awake before nine if you can help it.” He leaned against the wall, sideways on his chair. “It’s nice to have Tilly back and all, but she’s not worth missing half of training for.”
“Ha ha.” Tilly rolled her eyes at his cheeky grin, but wondered what to do next. Did she sit down next to him or stay near Evie for support? Is that why she’d invited him over? To ambush Tilly? Or was she going to tell him about the—
“I’m pregnant,” Evie blurted out.
Well, that sorted that.
He blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m up the duff. Preggers.” Evie tugged her sleeves down over her hands and valiantly kept going. “Knocked up. Got a bun in the oven. Um…”
“Preggo?” Tilly supplied. “Oh! Eating for two.”
Evie waved her hand in Tilly’s direction but kept her gaze on Sean. “Yeah. That.”
His mouth was still open. He looked at Tilly. She inclined her head in confirmation. He looked back to Evie. “How?”
“Well, Seanie,” Tilly chimed in, mostly to give Evie a second, “when someone with a penis and swimmers, and someone with vagina and a uterus and ovaries—” The look he shot Tilly was worse than Evie’s, but this time, all it did was make her grin. “Well, don’t ask stupid questions.”
“No, ass, I meant, like—when, Evie? I mean, you don’t have to answer that. Sorry. Was this planned? I’m just shocked, is all.”
Evie let out a long breath and walked over to flop into the chair opposite Sean. That left Tilly with no chair and standing uselessly above them both, so she flopped onto the tiles, leaned back on her hands, and looked up at them.
“Right after Tilly left, remember we went out?”
He blanched. “The shot night?”
Sean hated shots. Always had. Would just have one and he was done. He always agreed so readily, then regretted it.
“Yeah. And remember after you left I sent you a message saying I was going home in a taxi…”
“Yeah…?”
“Well, it wasn’t really a lie, I just didn’t give you all the details. I went home, except not mine. To his.”
He straightened, hands clenching on the table. “You should’ve let me know. Safety.”
They all had a deal: let each other know where you’d be, check in when you could. Tilly opted out of that one a lot in general, but not when drinking in bars with strangers was involved. She even downloaded the app for that. Too much could happen. Especially when you were a woman. Or queer.
“I know, sorry. I was…drunk.”
They exchanged a look and Tilly could tell she’d missed something. She wanted to ask about it, but now didn’t feel like the time.
“So—you’re sure you’re pregnant?”
“I took a test. And, uh, I’m late. And my boobs hurt and are bigger.” She shot a glare at Tilly. “I’ve been nauseated as hell. I’ve only thrown up once, though.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah, on Tilly’s lap last night.”
That made the asshole brighten up a little.
Then they all sat and blinked at each other.
They’d sat like this for so many things. Family issues, study sessions, failed exams, breakups, coming outs. It was about time that pregnancy was one of the reasons.
Tilly laughed and they both looked at her, Sean with his fatherly disapproval. She shrugged. “I—We’re in our thirties now.”
Sean winced. He hadn’t quite come to terms with that yet.
“And, I don’t know, in my twenties I was clearly naïve, because I thought that when this happened in your thirties it was planned. Or, you know, wouldn’t be such a big deal.” Tilly waved a hand. “I guess I thought this wasn’t an issue anymore.”
Evie snorted, her chin in her hand. “When I was a kid, I thought I’d be married with two kids by twenty-five.”
“Right?” Sean crossed his arms on the table. “I thought thirty was old.”
Tilly gave a wry smile, and they all sat, the sound of that stupid lawnmower still droning.
Finally, Sean asked. “So, ah. What—Do you know what you want to do?”
“No idea.” Evie was pressing her thumbnail into a crack in the wood, refusing to look up. “Literally, none. I never—I mean, I’ve never been anti having kids. I suppose I didn’t really think about it. That was future-Evie’s problem.”
“Well.” Sean’s voice was gentle. “Now it’s present-Evie’s problem.”
Tilly stretched her foot out and nudged Evie’s. “Not only Evie’s problem.”
Sean nudged his foot into both of theirs, and they both smiled at him and he shrugged. “Never only Evie’s problem. We’re here.”
Evie finally looked away from the table and at Tilly, gaze wavering and eyes watery.
Tilly swallowed past a lump that appeared in her throat out of nowhere. She swallowed past last night’s memory of the itch in her feet, the heat crackling in her skin. The way, sometimes, she needed to leave. The reason she left. The lies she’d told, or the things she’d omitted. The things she didn’t think about, but right now were hard not to because they were clawing at her.
“That’s right.” Tilly smiled, and she meant the words but there was anxiety behind them. “We’re here.”
And Evie’s eyes were on her, head cocked, and she so looked like she wanted to believe that.