Tilly
A baby was a strange thing.
It was so small, but upheaved everything.
Especially when it was confirmed. A solid, real thing. Undeniable. Everybody knew that. Tilly knew that.
It wasn’t even a baby right now. It was a foetus.
And it was growing in Tilly’s best friend.
Sand trickled through her fingers as she raked them back and forth on the beach. She wriggled her toes so they buried deeper into the tiny grains, cool under the top layer that had been warmed by the sun all day. Seagulls flew overhead, their cawing the soundtrack of Perth’s coast.
If the foetus kept growing in her best friend, all going well, it would become a baby in the world in a little under six months. Less than half a year. Tilly had run from her responsibilities for longer than that, coming back every time and trying to slot back into her life as if nothing had happened. If she did that now, she’d come back in half a year and Evie could have a baby. That would become a child. That was a permanent, dependent thing in her best friend’s life.
A priority. An important one.
If Evie decided to keep it.
Tilly had seen that look on Evie’s face though, as that image on the screen had become more solidified. Some of the uncertainty had smoothed away from Evie’s face. Not the fear. But that overwhelmed, trapped look had…eased.
Tilly could feel it in her bones. Evie was going to keep it. Quiet had filled the car on the drive back from the doctor’s and Evie had remained quiet the rest of the night. The last few days, she’d come home from work contemplative and in her own head.
A baby.
Tilly stood up and walked to the line of sand that was darker than the rest, cool and damp against her feet. The surf kicked up and licked at her toes before it withdrew completely, what was left over sucked into the sand, bubbles popping. The next wave came up in a rush of foam and cold, churning past her knees. Spray hit the bottom of her shorts and she took in a deep breath, salty air filling her lungs. On the horizon, the clouds blazed almost red, and she closed her eyes, shutting out the sky that appeared on fire.
Orange was behind her eyelids, burnt there.
Fading, though.
Not permanent.
Permanent didn’t scare her. Despite disappearing on and off, Tilly liked her life. She liked coming back to her people. To something solid. To be there for her friends.
To Evie.
She always came back to Evie.
Sometimes she thought everything did.
But babies? They needed more permanence than she could manage. She’d always known that.
That secret, just the one, she’d wanted to tell Evie, that she’d thought was maybe worth bringing up… She imagined the words sitting in the palm of her hand. Cupped there, overheated and aching, raw in her palm and trying to slip between her fingers.
She held her hand straight out, waited for the water to crash in again, to splash up her legs, and she opened her eyes and hand at the same time, and let the sea carry those words out where she couldn’t bring them back again.
* * *
Tilly walked through the front door, sand and salt still drying on her calves, her denim shorts stiff with ocean water. As always, the beach had left her calm, as if—
“Tilly!”
The desperate, almost-shriek made Tilly nearly drop her keys.
But Evie was fine, sitting cross-legged on the couch with her laptop balanced on her legs.
“What the fuck, Evie. Way to scare the shit out of me.”
“Sorry, but—” Evie’s eyes were very wide and the way she kept talking and staring at her desperately over her laptop made Tilly think that apology was not really meant “—Tilly. Like, the first trimester is important for all these reasons and I basically…missed it.”
The back door was open in an attempt to pull a breeze into the house, so Tilly left the front one open and flicked the lock on the flyscreen. She dropped her bag down and walked over to the couch, cautious. Evie’s eyes tracked her the whole way, white-knuckled fingers gripping the edge of the laptop.
“First trimester?” Tilly asked.
“First few months. Of pregnancy.”
Tilly’s stomach churned. “Right.”
This was classic panicked-Evie. Generally, one must approach with caution.
“Okay.” Tilly slipped down next to her, pulling one leg under the other on the couch and turning so she was facing Evie, their knees pressed into each other. “The doctor kind of said that on Monday. That the first thingy was over.”
“The doctor said a lot of things.”
That was true.
The browser had so many tabs open that the headings were unreadable. When Tilly flicked her gaze back to Evie, she was still just staring at her, a little wildly.
“Okay.” Tilly leaned over so she could see the screen properly. “All right, you’re panic researching. What’s so bad about missing the first trimester?”
Evie flipped her hand and linked their fingers with a grip so hard Tilly almost pulled her hand away. Almost.
Evie was sallow, her freckles standing out. “Apparently everything.”
So, it was panicked, dramatic Evie. Tilly hadn’t experienced her in a while.
“Everything?” Tilly’s lips quirked, ready with a quip that could so often bring a smile to Evie’s lips and stall the anxiety. “So, it’s doomed now?”
Evie’s eyes narrowed. “You’re making fun of me.”
They were past humour, then.
“A little.” She squeezed the hand in hers gently, pushed a little closer so they were pressed in together. “What did you read?”
For a second, Tilly thought Evie might resist. But slowly she relaxed back into the couch, shoulders coming down. “I googled the stages of pregnancy again but with different keywords, and now all the articles are, like, ‘How to start your pregnancy right’ and ‘The first three months, why they matter, and how you can do the most for your baby’ and I—I missed it all. I barely realised I was so late, and I was nauseated all the time, but I was almost overthinking—um.” Her eyes flicked to Tilly’s face, then back to the screen, teeth hesitating over her lip for a second. “Overthinking everything and work was, you know, stressful. And I, well—now I’m fourteen weeks and into the second trimester, a term I’ve really only learned this week, by the way, and I’ve already fucked up everything—”
“Okay!”
The words had been escaping fast; water over rocks in a river that wouldn’t slow. A flush crept into Evie’s cheeks, a glazed look in her eye. She blinked at Tilly’s interruption and blinked more when Tilly put her hand on the screen and tugged on it, waiting for Evie to get the hint and drop her other hand. Once she did, Tilly snapped it shut and moved to the side.
“Okay,” Tilly said, more gently this time. “You have not fucked it all up already.” She wrapped her arm around Evie’s shoulders and pulled her close, dropping her chin to the top of Evie’s head. “You really haven’t. It’s too soon to have fucked it up.”
“But I had a few drinks over those three months. And I wasn’t taking those vitamins that we picked up the other day yet. And—”
“Evie, sweetie,” Tilly breathed out, knowing that if she spoke calmly and slowly it would make Evie feel the same, like she would when Evie had panicked about an exam. It worked, because Evie melted into her, knees pulled up and legs coming onto the couch, arms wrapped around Tilly’s abdomen, face pressed into her neck. Everything was warm and soft and Tilly ran a hand through her hair; the same hand that had held all the things she would now never say. “So, so many people don’t know they’re pregnant for a while and have some drinks and do things all the websites say they shouldn’t. Their babies are fine.”
“But—”
“No.”
A huff of breath washed over Tilly’s collarbone. “Tilly.”
“What?”
“But what if—”
“No. Any of these worries, write them down and we’ll ask the midwife at the appointment tomorrow, okay?”
Another huff in response, warm and washing over her skin.
Tilly kept her hand running through Evie’s hair, a familiar soft feeling spreading in her chest. “Evie,” she whispered.
“Mm?”
“Does this mean you’re keeping it?”
Evie stilled, then nodded. “I—I think so? I mean, yeah?”
Tilly kept her fingers moving through Evie’s hair. “Hey, look at that,” she whispered. “You made a decision.”
Evie chuckled, the sound a little choked. “I guess I did.”
“Well, then.” Tilly sucked in a deep breath and ignored the weight that sank deeper and deeper in her gut. “The doctor said the ultrasound looked fine. The test results all came back normal too. That baby is healthy, and it’s lucky, because it’s got you.”
The next one was definitely a snort, not a huff. “Yeah, right. Tilly… What if I can’t do this?”
Her hair was soft against her fingers, silky strands Tilly would love to get tangled in. “Well, you can still think about the other options. Nothing is set in stone.”
“I don’t think I wanna do those other options. You know I think they’re fine options. You know I took friends for abortions and was their support person at uni when they had one. But this feels different, for me. Right now.”
Breath stilled in Tilly at how sure Evie was, beneath the tremors in her voice. A decision that was life-altering and scary was right in front of her, yet here she was, making it. Sure in herself.
“Well, then. You’re going to nail this. Right now, the baby is fine. You’re fine.” That got another snort. Tilly smiled. “Okay, you’re a bit loopy. But you’re also gonna be fine.”
“How do you know that?”
The words were mumbled into Tilly’s skin, goosebumps rising in their wake, and she resisted the shudder that started at the base of her spine. “Because.” Tilly kept her voice low, and she hoped that her sincerity was there, since she meant every word she was about to say. “You’re Evie, and you’re amazing.”
“You almost say that like you mean it,” Evie murmured.
“I do.”
And neither had anything more to add, though Tilly’s fingers continued to gently run through Evie’s hair.
“Hungry?” Tilly murmured.
“No.”
Evie’s stomach rumbled. Tilly pressed her lips right together.
“Okay, fine, maybe a little,” Evie relented. “I don’t think there’s much in the fridge.”
Tilly rolled her eyes, unseen by Evie. “I did the shopping. I bought those burger patties you said you were dying for the other night.”
Evie perked up a little, though didn’t remove herself from Tilly’s hands. “The ones with the added garlic?”
“Yeah. Or if you feel like something simple, I could make pasta?”
A pause of consideration. “The burger craving’s gone. Now it’s carbs. Pasta, please.”
Tilly put water to boil on the stove and Evie sat at the rickety table, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees. She watched Tilly potter around the kitchen, pulling out onions and tomatoes and throwing together a simple sauce. Normally, being watched wasn’t something Tilly enjoyed but Evie was still slightly panicky, with an edge to the look in her eye, so Tilly let her.
“I missed your cooking while you were gone.”
Tilly looked over her shoulder with the knife paused over a tomato. “Well, that’s a lie. My cooking is basic.”
“It’s not a lie. You know I’m the laziest cook in the world.”
“That’s because you can’t even call it cooking, you just put things on bread.”
“Exactly. That’s why I missed your cooking.”
“My cooking is mediocre at best, so I’m sad for you.”
“It’s more medium-good. But okay.”
A fond look came over Evie’s face as she stared, and Tilly did the easiest thing to do in that situation: she turned away from the warm, soft eyes back to her pasta. Pasta wasn’t complicated and it didn’t pull Tilly in so many different directions she sometimes wondered how there could possibly be any more of her left.
Sometimes she wondered if she would ever come close to giving up any of those pieces of herself.
Except maybe she had given the largest piece away ten years ago in a shared room at university.
“That smells good.”
The words pulled her from her thoughts and she made herself laugh. “It’s frying onion.”
“Still true.”
And Tilly did what she did best, and left all those thoughts behind her.
* * *
The café Tilly worked in was right near Cottesloe beach, which was the best possible location, and she bagged the early shift, which most people would hate but Tilly had never minded getting up early if she had to. She was there by six in the morning and the sky was already light. Cyclists and joggers were out in force and eyeing the café as she and her colleagues opened the doors and started setting out chairs. If she paused, which she always did that early, she could look out at the ocean, eerily calm and flat, or at times with a swell, surfers filling the spaces and hoping to get a few waves in before work. The air was always salty and fresh; it was easy to take deep breaths and pretend she belonged where she stood.
She never struggled to pretend that—rather, what Tilly struggled with was maintaining that feeling.
Among other things.
The calm always broke when they officially opened at six-thirty and they were swamped by soaked, sandy surfers and pram-pushing mums with long ponytails and caps. They would be followed by the rowers and Sean would take a seat and send her a wink.
So, to sum up, the job Tilly found was perfect for her.
“The job you found?” Sean leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.
Tilly rolled her eyes, pad and pen in hand and glaring at him. “Oh, excuse me, so sorry.” She curtsied in the most exaggerated manner she could manage, a customer at a nearby table staring at her with his coffee half-raised to his lips. “Thank you so very much, my liege.”
“At least I never have to lie when I say you’re an awesome worker.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you put a little sidenote on your CV? Something along the lines of, ‘May leave abruptly but until that moment is the most reliable employee you’ll ever have’?” Sean asked, the amusement on his face bordering on cheek.
“How did you know?” Tilly asked, voice laced with sarcasm. “It comes with another final note of, ‘But don’t worry, uniform will always be returned en route to airport’.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, once I left a uniform washed, ironed, and folded on the doorstep in a little bag.”
“I’m sure they appreciated that gesture.”
“I got a thank-you text.” She pointed her pen at him. “So, latte, and a ham and cheese croissant?”
He shot her a finger gun. “You got it.”
She popped her pen behind her ear. “Don’t do that.”
The finger gun came up again, but with a grimace and a half-hearted click of his tongue. “This?”
“Yes, that.”
He dropped his hand. “Didn’t think I could pull it off.”
“You can’t.”
And the smile he gave her was affectionate and loving and exasperated and knowing, so Tilly walked away from him, even as her own smile tugged at her lips.
When he was leaving twenty minutes later, he slid past her. “Dinner tonight? Me and you?”
“Definitely.” She paused what she was doing. “Hey, you mentioned Cal was looking for someone to build their website for their artwork. I called a guy I know from uni, but he’s all booked up. He recommended someone. I haven’t met her, but I gave her a call, and she’s willing to do it for free.”
He eyed her. “Just like that?”
She shrugged.
“Tilly…”
“I’m exchanging some work with her, don’t worry about it.” He smiled far too affectionately at her. “Oh, shut up. It’ll be good for me too. If she likes what I do, I’ll have a new client and Cal gets an awesome website.”
“Sure, act like you did it for you when only the other day you mentioned your client list is full up.”
She poked her tongue out at him, and then he was gone, and Tilly was swept back up in a shift of excessively pretentious coffee orders and breakfasts that became brunches and then lunches.
It wasn’t that she was avoiding Sean. Well, it was. And they all knew it. Evie always welcomed her back and asked nothing of her, and Sean always gave her looks and was prickly and pushed that little bit more.
But it had been three weeks, and she couldn’t avoid him anymore.
It was always fine, anyway. He never even really pushed pushed. Didn’t even ask anything anymore, not really.
It was in the attitude. A stark contrast to the welcome from Evie, the sense of relief that she was back that dominated everything else.
Really, Tilly deserved the attitude. But the avoidance dance was one they always played and now it was a habit, something safe for when she came back. A sure thing.
Sometimes, Tilly wondered how much of what she did was habit.
When her shift ended, she headed straight to the beach, dumping her backpack on the sand, and her clothes on top of it, her one piece already on under them. She dove in with relief. The cold water was a shock and then pure bliss, biting up and down her skin and sinking in.
Under the surface, she opened her eyes and flipped, staring up. The water was clear and the warm November sun shone through it, bright white and blinding. Salt stung her eyes, but she didn’t close them; rather, she let it burn.
Air bubbles rushed past her ears, through which she could hear the laugh, the giggle. The tug of a hand at hers. The slap of waves and blissful shouts.
But when she burst through the surface, eyes streaming and water pouring off her, no children were letting off peals of laughter on the sand or kicking up splashes nearby.
It was only sometime around two. School was still on.
But still, she swore she could hear it.
Could feel fingers curl into her own.
She squeezed her hand into a fist, only water there to lose.
* * *
The smell of spices reached the street and Tilly’s mouth watered before she even opened the door, and once she did it watered even more. Sean was in a far corner of the restaurant and he tilted his chin up as she walked in. Any way of escaping this was gone.
Not that she’d really take it.
Maybe.
“You’re late,” he said as she sat down.
She smirked. “I’m right on time.”
“Yeah, I know.” The smile on his face gave him away. “I just wanted to sound grumpy.”
“Consider it a success.”
“Now you’re humouring me.”
“Always.” She looked around. “It took me a bit to find this place. Is it new?”
He nodded. “Dad swears by it. A friend of his parents moved here not long ago and opened it.”
Tilly was basically salivating from the delicious smell of spices. “Tell him thanks for the recommendation.”
“Will do. Cal said to say thanks, by the way.”
“I got a message from them. It’s really no big deal.”
He pondered that for a second, but thankfully let it go. “How was your arvo?”
“Full of emailing clients. The joys of freelancing.”
“Lucky for you, it has its perks.” Sean pursed his lips and tried to look hurt but dropped it straight away. “So.” He looked at his watch, as if it showed a date. “Three weeks. That’s almost a record for how long you’ve avoided a one-on-one catch up after you’ve got back.”
“Well, I try.”
He drank his drink as if waiting for more.
Tilly caved. “I have an excuse this time. Evie’s pregnant.”
His glass was put back down with a thunk. “Yeah, okay. Fine. That’s true. I still can’t believe she’s pregnant. Though, I don’t think Evie does either. Especially now she’s decided to keep it.”
“I think the baby will come and still none of us will quite believe it.”
“Will you be here for that?” He fired the question as if he’d had it prepared and loaded, ready for the perfect opening to squeeze the trigger.
This time, it was Tilly who pointedly glanced at her watch. “Look at that. Haven’t even been sitting here two minutes. New record.” Despite her casual tone, her heart started racing.
“Circumstances, and all that,” Sean said.
“You know, that’s not super fair. I’ve barely taken off the last few years. I’ve been much more…present.” Her hands had gone a little clammy. Because even if it were true, they just never spoke of all this so bluntly.
Everything was changing.
“That’s true.” His head was cocked, watching her, eyes dark and full of concern. “So. Will you be here for it?”
“Do you actually want an answer to that question?”
He picked up his menu and looked down at it, far too casually. “Tilly, my love, I’ve always wanted an answer to a similar question, but you’ve never once provided it.” The menu stayed in his hands. His eyes stayed on the print.
Her gaze stayed fixed on him. “That was fair, I guess.”
Finally, he looked up, brown eyes staring straight through her. “This time is different.”
“I know.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“I know.”
“She’s going to have a baby.”
“I know.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to just swan back in after a disappearance like you always have?”
“Hi!” The greeting of a tired but smiling waitress gave Tilly a moment’s grace. “Can I take your order?”
Tilly swallowed, hard, then looked up, forcing a smile on her face for the waitress who was probably not paid enough to deal with someone punching their best friend. Tilly sure as hell wasn’t. “Ah yes, thank you. I’ll have the butter chicken and a pale ale.”
The waitress gave her a nod and looked to Sean.
“Pale ale too, and tandoori chicken. And coconut rice?” At the question, he looked at Tilly, his smile as put-on as hers. “And some garlic naan?”
“Sounds great.” Tilly flashed a grin and held her menu for the waitress to take.
Away she went in a rush and both of them dropped their grins.
“That was a little rude,” Tilly said, jumping immediately back into their conversation as if they’d never been interrupted.
“Was it though?”
She sighed. “No. Nor uncalled for.”
He gave a small, much more genuine smile. “You know I love you.”
“I know.”
“This changes a lot about how everything’s worked since uni.”
Their beers were put down in front of them.
Tilly reached for hers gratefully. “I know.” And she took a sip.
“Are we going to talk about how you’re still in love with her?”
The beer almost came out her nose but she managed to swallow, the bottle thudding on the table loudly. She clenched her jaw, her fingers wrapped around the bottle.
“Tilly.”
She was breathing too fast.
“Tilly?” There was a pleading edge to his voice. “We’ve avoided it forever, but now—”
She stood up, her chair scraping, the sound drowned out by the chattering of the restaurant. Her fingers fished a twenty out of her pocket and she dropped it on the table, his gaze on her the entire time.
“Tilly.”
He mostly breathed her name as she turned, and she could feel the sound of it wrap around her ears. The burn of his eyes on her back as she walked away.
They didn’t talk about this. This was not something they talked about.
He was changing the rules.
Everything was bloody changing.