Evie
Time was both flying by and standing still. Out of nowhere, Evie was eighteen weeks pregnant and definitely rounder, clothes tugging uncomfortably around her middle. It was December and far too hot, all the time. Christmas had taken over all the shops and if she heard Jingle Bells one more time, she’d break a speaker. With a bat.
Her skin itched and the creams that websites recommended only helped a little. Somehow, she became clumsy, something she never was before, and apparently this was due to how her weight distribution was changing—according to Google, which was her constant friend. Exhaustion tugged at her at odd times, such as a few hours after she woke up, or before eating dinner. Other times, she had strange amounts of energy and reorganised her entire house.
Being pregnant was, basically, the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her.
“More than when you woke up in a full pirate’s outfit? You know, the pirate costume you still have no recollection of how you got, to this day?” Tilly threw a grin as she pushed the trolley, one that could be described as full of cheek. “The one you ended up in after you did tequila shots with that girl from your class?”
Evie dug her elbow into Tilly’s side and Tilly dramatically grabbed it as if she’d been severely wounded. “We do not talk about that night,” said Evie.
A dark look, quickly gone, flashed over Tilly’s face and Evie caught it, and ignored it. As she did the next sentence that played in her mind.
We don’t talk about a lot of things.
Evie could have said something, but what was the point?
Tilly was who Tilly was.
“We can’t talk about it because you remember literally nothing. It’s different.” Tilly pushed their trolley around a corner in the giant store. Kitchen products of all sorts surrounded them. Kids cried in prams. People in pairs and groups and singles stood around with measuring tapes and serious looks, debating between cabinets and stove tops and decor.
It was, all in all, Evie’s worst nightmare. She’d rather go back to the pirate-outfit debacle. “I don’t remember nothing.”
Tilly turned and raised her eyebrows, narrowly avoiding hitting a clearly broke university student’s ankles, the poor soul staring wistfully at a beautiful kitchen set-up. They probably had to go home to a kitchen shared with four people who all refused to clean.
Tilly’s eyebrows were still raised at her.
“Hey—I remember there was a bar.” Evie grimaced at her own pathetic attempt. “And that girl. And shots.” Evie shifted to avoid a toddler running the opposite way it was meant to be, a frazzled adult chasing after it.
“Oh. Right.” Tilly was doing that smile that was almost a smirk. Her eyes were bright with amusement and a rich, dark brown that, when she was playful like this, looked as if she held the sun in them. She took Evie’s breath away. Always. And she had no idea. “You clearly remember so much. I was so very wrong to say you remembered nothing. Please, tell me. What happened after the fourth shot?”
They were walking past beds now, matching blanket sets and pillows and far too much flare. They were a great excuse for Evie to look away as if they were important and not meet Tilly’s smug gaze.
“Evie? Please, continue the story of shame. What happened next?”
“This doona looks so comfy. I need a new one.”
“You bought a new one, like, a year ago. It was ridiculously expensive and you said it was worth it because it would last decades.” Now Tilly had on her smug voice. “After that fourth shot? Which, if I recall, was your first body shot?”
“Hey! In my defence that girl was very, very hot.” Evie finally looked back at Tilly, who was still pushing the trolley and exactly as smug as she’d thought she’d be.
“Yes, she was. And after that?”
Evie crossed her arms and walked out of the bedroom section and into an office section. This place was a freaking trap. “I vaguely recall a street.”
Tilly snorted behind her. “Ah, yes. Anything more?”
“A bathroom that I still don’t recognise.”
“And? More?”
“No.”
Another snort.
“That’s still not nothing, Tilly.”
“Where’d the pirate outfit come from, Evie?”
“I don’t know.” Evie whined it, the ‘know’ elongated and pathetic. She stopped and Tilly kept walking past her with the trolley, chuckling. Almost cackling. “Why did I have it on? Who gave it to me? Did I steal it? Find it? Buy it?”
“Our greatest mystery.”
Her voice was light, full of her amusement, but the playfulness left Evie all at once as her eyes trailed after Tilly as she pushed ahead and started to turn a corner.
Not their greatest mystery. There would always be one far greater.
Melancholy settled in her bones and Evie wanted to blame hormones for the sudden sadness in her gut. Whether the sadness was for Tilly or herself, she didn’t know.
Evie almost ran right into Tilly’s back as she turned the corner. “Whoa, stopped dead?”
“Well, we’ve arrived.”
Evie stepped next to her, hand loosely next to Tilly’s on the handle of the trolley. The section ahead of them was all kid and baby things. Colourful small beds that got even smaller in the corner where the cots were displayed. Bright little chairs and tables, desks, vibrant lamps and toys, linen in soft pastels.
“Yeah, we really have.” Evie blinked at it all, her breath caught in her chest.
“Hey.”
The voice came from far away. Evie tried to suck in a breath and she put her free hand on her stomach, low, like she’d started to recently, right below her belly button. As if she could hold what was in there in place. Freeze it for a moment and give herself some time to think. A moment to pause.
“Hey.” Tilly’s voice properly registered and Evie blinked, turning to look at her. She was so close, pressed in along her side. Warm and solid and there, eyes understanding and soft. “It’s okay. This is the fun bit, right? We’re only here to look. Get an idea.”
Tilly was so close and Evie wanted to fall right into her. Become lost in her orbit like she always did. Evie’s stomach was heated under her hand, a little swollen. The feel of it made her suck in a wavering breath, smiling shakily and pulling away. “Yeah, right.” The smile felt more solid. “I’m just getting an idea.”
Another look, fleeting and gone, at the ‘I’.
“Exactly.” Tilly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her in, dropping a kiss on the side of her head, above her ear.
In spite of herself, Evie closed her eyes for a second. ‘Just getting an idea’ felt strange when only a few weeks had passed since she’d decided to keep it. “Why today, though?”
Tilly chuckled. “It was your idea. I needed to buy more coat hangers and they’re so cheap here, you said why not look at all this at the same time. We had this conversation last week. You were eating cereal, I was—”
“Yeah yeah, okay.” Evie rolled her eyes. “Let’s do this.”
There was so much.
There were toys. Cots. Nappy holders. Changing tables. Baby baths. Mattresses. Sheet sets. Baby sleeping bags. Storage options from shelving to boxes. Highchairs. They all came in bright colours or neutrals. Pastels were a theme. Patterns were everywhere. Ducks and owls. Pirates and princesses. Castles and dragons. Elephants and lions. All in cute cartoon versions of themselves.
“The fuck is all this pink and blue?”
Evie laughed too loudly at the abrupt sentence from Tilly, drawing a few looks from people nearby. Tilly held up two options, both clearly marketed so that blue was meant to be for a boy and pink for a girl.
Tilly’s nose wrinkled. “No, but seriously. Ninety per cent of this stuff is pink and blue, and they’re clearly meant to be for boys and girls. I mean, I know I’m not ‘up’ on kids’ stuff, but I thought by now we were all moving past this shit?” She dropped the baby blankets back on the shelf and turned to Evie, indignant. “Didn’t that giant shopping centre take away their boy and girl toy section and make it all neutral?”
“Yeah, just the one though.” Evie grabbed a green blanket off the shelf. “Look. This isn’t pink or blue and the photo on the packaging isn’t pushing towards any gender.”
“Wow.” Tilly’s voice was completely dry. “One option.”
“Yeah. It’s gross.”
“No, but it really is. Like, way to keep up with gender studies. Or, you know, studies at all. Gender is a myth and this idea of two opposite ones is a load of crap. Or two at all.”
Evie ran a hand up and down her arm soothingly. “I know. Sean should rule the world. Or, at least, the marketing part of it.”
“He damn well should.” Tilly crossed her arms, almost sulking. “I could set him up a kick ass website and run him a wicked media marketing campaign.” She sighed. “Can we look at stuff that’s at least a little less gendered?”
“Sure. Cots?”
There was an entire corner dedicated to different cots. They stood for a second, staring at them all set up with different sheet sets and mobiles.
“Aw—that mobile has clouds.” Tilly cocked her head at it. “Why are they black and white?”
“Apparently it’s good for baby development. Strong, contrasting colours.”
“Ah. Right. Is that why the other stuff is all…”
“Geometric?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Apparently.”
“And you happen to know all this?”
“God, no. I’ve been on the internet for weeks.”
“Ah. Right.”
They both kept staring. A couple stood over one of the cots, making soft looks and murmuring to each other, fingers tracing the pattern on the blanket and over the grains of the wood. They were tucked into each other, arms around waists, and they fit, glowing with excitement.
It took a second to realise Tilly’s arm was around her waist, Evie’s hand over Tilly’s on her hip, fingers clinging tightly at the half-panic, half-bewilderment that was about to overwhelm her.
Distantly, Evie wondered how they looked. Did they look like the two next to that cot, as if they’d planned this and wanted it? Like they were doing this together? Would they fit; pieces not pushed together but made to be there? Would Evie ever feel as natural at this as that woman looked, round stomach and at peace as she stared at the cot, pressed against the person she was doing this with?
Evie had never thought she was traditional. And she wasn’t, really. Parents could do it alone, or with a partner, or several partners, together or shared. They could raise a child like a village. Queerplatonic partners, or platonic, or romantic, or sexual, or however. Three parents, four, five, one…
But she’d never really thought how she wanted to do this, and having that choice taken away and deciding to do this alone was slowly dawning on her as, well, a lot.
And maybe not what she would have chosen to do.
And here was Tilly, who had been at the doctor’s and seen the baby with her for the first time. Who had come with her to the first prenatal appointment with the midwife where Evie had been able to ask all the same questions again as well as new ones. Tilly, who made her smoothies in the morning and left them in the fridge for her because she left so early for work. Who made dinner every night, all the food that Evie was craving.
Tilly, who had always done these things, but sometimes left.
Who would probably leave again. Not tomorrow, or the next day, but sometime in the not so distant future. And Evie knew that fact, with every fibre of her being, but still clung to her.
Some things, it seemed, never changed.
But eventually, she was going to have to be able to face doing this alone.
Tilly squeezed her hip a little, then made a soft noise. “Well that’s cute,” she murmured. “They have little balloon lights that stick to the wall.”
Above the cot in the corner, on the wall, small lights sat, floating up above the cot towards the ceiling.
Tilly turned her head, soft eyes and soft smiles. “Want cute little balloon lights?”
Evie nodded, a lump solid and big in her throat. “Yeah.” She tore her gaze from Tilly’s to look back at them. “I do.”
The father of Evie’s baby—the weirdest thing she’d ever had to think in her own brain—was surprisingly easy to track down. She staked out the bar with Tilly and Sean, diligently examining every red-headed man that walked through the door. They’d expected the mission to take weeks.
Luke showed up in half an hour. It took ten minutes to find the courage to speak to him. And a total of two minutes for him to agree to meet her tomorrow. “That would be great,” he said. “I’ve been hoping to run into you again. You beat me to it.” He looked over her shoulder. “Will they be joining us?”
Evie turned to see Tilly and Sean staring at them in the most conspicuous way possible, chins resting on their hands. Sean even wriggled his fingers back at them. She turned back to Luke. “Absolutely not. Just you and me.”
He grinned. “That sounds amazing.”
And smiling back at him was easy.
* * *
It was much less easy to smile at him the next day.
Luke slid into his seat, running a hand through his hair. Evie tried to look as relaxed as him, but her hand shook a little as she picked up her water glass and took a sip. For a second, she panicked, thinking she’d forgotten how to swallow and was worried she’d dribble it down her chin. Reflex caught up and saved her, thankfully.
“This is a nice place, I’ve never been,” he said, reaching for the bottle of water on the table to top up his own.
“Yeah, it’s somewhere my co-workers and I often stop for lunch if we need to touch base in the middle of the week. I like the eclectic furniture. I love when things don’t match.”
“Me too.”
He glanced around at the small, bustling café, steam rising from the coffee machine in the corner, fans whirring overhead in an attempt to keep the room cool. The café was slightly sunken, and the windows showed the bottom half of people bustling along in the city centre. A waitress came over and took their orders. Evie got a herbal tea. Caffeine was the last thing she needed right now.
“So, what do you do?” Luke asked.
“I work with a disability support service. We provide accommodation, respite, community connection, employment services, and education to people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. The last few years I’ve, kind of, shifted into a team leader role.”
“What does that entail?”
Evie really didn’t want to talk about her job right now. Which wasn’t usual for her. She loved talking about work. But dropping the words ‘baby daddy’ didn’t seem the best idea immediately. If she kept going, would he get more and more comfortable and think this was a date? Oh, no. She was spiralling; she could all but hear Tilly’s voice in her head telling her so. “I work on training staff, leading the staff in my area to make sure we’re reaching the goals and needs of our clients. I work with clients to develop and implement their individual goals and plans. I cover shifts. All that I love.”
He smiled, encouraging her to continue.
Her palms were sweating. Did she say ‘baby daddy’ now? No. Too soon still. “I also have more boring stuff now, like schedules, paperwork, budgets, blah blah.”
“That all sounds awesome. What got you into that?”
Seriously. This was first date talk. Abort! “I studied Social Work. When I was a teen, I volunteered with my mum at a community centre. It was actually run by the organisation I work with now. I loved it.” Evie smiled at the waitress as their orders were put in front of them. Being able to swirl her tea in its little teapot helped distract her for a second.
Luke’s light-eyed gaze was on her, his smile soft as he sipped his coffee. Leaning back in his chair, he lazily dropped a hand over the back of it.
She’d forgotten how charming he was in his utterly relaxed way of being.
She was about to burst that.
“What do you do?” she asked.
Or rather, she should burst that.
“I work in IT, for an internet company. Lots of computer time.” He grinned. “It’s probably why I’m so pale I almost glow.”
She laughed, far too enthusiastically in her nervous state.
“I’m really happy to see you,” he said. “I was really hoping to run into you again. You kind of disappeared.”
“I’m pregnant.”
He stared at her.
She blinked.
He didn’t. His mouth sat open. He stared at her more.
She pressed her lips together.
He still stared at her.
This was going on forever.
Evie wanted to crawl under the table.
He was still staring.
She glanced around. Everyone else was…living as if everything else were normal.
Luke still stared.
“Luke?”
He blinked, finally. A good sign. His mouth snapped shut and he visibly swallowed. “Sorry,” he rasped, like a person desperate for water. He cleared his throat. “You’re pregnant?”
“I am.”
“Are you… Are you okay?”
Well that was nice. “I’m, uh. Fine. Been better.”
He’d stared, twisting his mouth. “And, uh… It’s mine, I’m guessing, since you’re telling me?”
She nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
“I took a while to tell you, because I wasn’t sure what to do. But I’ve decided to keep it.”
His eyes went wide.
“And, uh, you have a right to know, of course. And so, I’m not going to…force you to be a part of this, if you don’t want to be. But I wanted you to have the option to, if you want to. But also, I think you need to, I guess, be sure what you want, because it’s not fair for a kid if you come and go, or disappear.”
His eyes got wider with each word.
“I don’t expect you to know now, of course. I’ve had a while with this and I’m still so confused. You can take some time with it.”
He was staring again. But rallied quickly, unlike before. Taking a long sip of probably scalding coffee, he blinked at her over the rim of the cup.
“We can, you know, figure it all out once you know what you want. I have a small place at the moment, but it’s a two bedroom.” Evie’s stomach clenched at the thought of whose bedroom she’d always thought of the second one as being. “So I have enough space for the baby for now. I don’t really want to deal with moving right now. I can in the future, though. Maybe if you want to be involved we can live closer to each other? I don’t know.”
He was nodding, but the kind of nod someone does when they’re not really listening and are completely having a meltdown inside their own head.
“Anyway, sorry. I’ve had too much time to think about all this. You, uh, need some of that.”
“I think, uh.” He cleared his throat again, his cheeks pink and brow furrowed. She couldn’t help but feel bad for him. “I think that’s a good idea. This is…a lot. Which, you get. Having had to deal with it all too.”
“Yeah, it’s been a ride.”
“And you said you’re okay? Like, healthy, and been to the doctor?”
She finally managed a semi-real smile. “Yeah, all is going as it should. No concerns.”
“Good.” He had a faraway look in his eyes. “That’s good.” His eyes snapped back to her. “Do you need a special diet? How big is…is the baby, now? Will—” He stopped. “I’ll get on Google.” His gaze unfocused again. “Later.”
“The internet’s been my best friend at the moment. I can send you some links.”
He was still staring off.
“Okay, so, I’m going to go. And let you think. We have each other’s numbers now, so maybe we can stay in contact. But I really do want you to take at least a few weeks and you know, be sure. Think about it.”
“I will.”
The tea sat, untouched, but she had no stomach for it. She reached for her money.
“No, no. On me.” He gave a wry grin. “Least I can do, with what you’ve been dealing with the last few months.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a last smile and stood up. “We’ll stay in contact?”
“Of course. And Evie?” He looked up at her from his seat, no sign of leaving any time soon. “Thanks for telling me.”
That ball of tension eased a little. “Thanks for not being a douche.”
He looked confused. “That’s not really a thing you should thank me for.”
“You say that, yet…”
With a last little wave, she left.