Evie
It was twenty weeks. Five months. Evie’s brain had never thought in weeks before.
Weird.
She was definitely showing now, though if she wore a loose shirt the bump could be hidden.
She felt the baby moving all the time, growing stronger by the day. Sometimes, she could make out the little flutter of movement under her hand, although no one could feel it from the outside yet. For now, that was all for her.
Summer had crept up on them. The days were hot and the nights almost as hot. Sweat prickled down Evie’s back even on the short walk to the letter box. Hazy heat lines emanated from the road as the bitumen baked. Kids screamed under sprinklers, even with the water restrictions, and the beach was always packed. Christmas songs were a constant in the shops and Evie was haunted by the year she’d worked as a shop assistant over the holiday season. They’d only had one CD of Christmas songs, which the company insisted they play over and over.
And over.
She had lost some of her sanity that year, she was sure.
Weird dreams followed her at night. Nothing bad, usually. Just weird. And vivid. Things like rowing behind Sean in his boat, her stomach in the way and not able to help like she wanted. Picking fruit and pulling a baby from the tree, then another, and another; so many until she was overwhelmed by crying infants and she had no idea what to do with any of them. Walking from room to room in her house, over and over, as if they were all linked in a loop. Each time she was in a new room, she’d find something broken she needed to fix, or something missing that she needed to buy.
Most nights, she’d wake up from those dreams in an instant—no slow-crawl from slumber as was her norm—and she’d be blinking at the ceiling, hand reaching out for Tilly even though they hadn’t shared a bed in oh-so-long.
Sean muted the TV and turned his attention to her fully. “You’re not sharing a bed anymore?”
“No.” Evie leaned back on his couch.
Cal eyed her from where they sat cross-legged on the ground. “You two always did that?”
“Yes.” She shrugged. “Well, no. I mean, sometimes? Most of the time. If we weren’t seeing anyone. It’s nice. Comforting.”
“And now… Tilly’s back after running away for the first time in ages, and you seemed super mad at her for being gone this time, and you’re pregnant—and not sharing a bed now, out of the blue?” Sean asked. He and Cal shared a glance.
“Look,” Evie sighed. “I know it’s… I don’t know. I guess I needed it to stop, this time. And to maybe just, chill.” That was a new thought, one she’d never had before.
“Because…?” Sean asked in a way that made her think he knew why, but wanted her to say it, to be sure.
Evie shrugged her shoulders.
Cal leaned back on their hands, as if waiting.
“What’s changed?” Sean asked.
“Nothing.”
“Evie…”
“Ugh, Sean. You know what’s changed.” Evie threw her arms up. “Because I’m attached to it all, aren’t I? And now, even more than ever, when I need her to stay, I can’t be sure… I don’t know if she’s going to do that. She’s always my person. She goes with me to appointments, she shows up, she… She’s Tilly.” The last part was almost plaintive, and Cal’s face was almost too sympathetic, so she looked back to Sean. “I’m halfway to my due date. And Tilly being gone used to be a little sad, but inevitable. Now, it’s terrifying. Will she leave soon? When will she go? When the baby’s three weeks old and I’m used to having her around? Can I do it alone?”
Sean leaned forward, a hand on her knee. Cal shuffled forward on their behind to press their feet and Evie’s together.
“You won’t be alone. You’ll have us,” Sean said. “And your mum, of course.”
“I know…” she said.
Still, she wanted what she couldn’t have. But, slowly, each day, protectiveness wormed its way up her spine, for this little thing growing in her, this little thing that felt like butterfly wings brushing against her skin. The baby was in there, developing and growing and really, in this world, it only had her.
The sun beamed through the high windows in Sean’s flat, hitting Evie’s face and making her dizzy. She hadn’t meant to talk about all of this.
“But you want Tilly around,” Cal said.
Sometimes, when Tilly talked, the baby moved as if it heard her.
Surely something Evie imagined.
Evie shrugged, helplessly. “Not if she’s going to take off.”
“Lucky she never does that then,” Cal said with a gentle smile and a nudge at her feet.
She gave a thick laugh. “Exactly. And I haven’t heard from Luke, which is fine.”
“At all?” Sean asked, voice hard.
“I mean, he checks in. He makes sure I’m okay. He’s pretty sweet about it. But we agreed to give it several weeks—I insisted. He needs to be sure. I can’t…”
“Gotta finish those sentences, Eves,” Cal murmured.
“I can’t… I don’t know if I even want to share the baby. I mean…” The one person she wanted to share it with always ran away, and Evie needed to protect the baby from that.
And protect herself.
“That seems, normal?” Sean more asked than said. “I mean, that seems pretty instinctual, probably.”
Cal stared at her. “Does it have anything to do with what’s gone on in the past?”
Up-Front Cal. Should be their name.
Evie pressed her lips together like she could smother all the emotion that question brought up. “I don’t want a child with a space in its heart, like…”
“Like you got when you were nine?”
She nodded almost miserably. “Tilly comes and goes, which can be fine. She can be the aunt that only pops up once in a while.” The thought twisted Evie’s stomach. “But what if Luke is just another missing figure?” She set her jaw. “I’m not letting my baby feel like I did. Growing up mixed in Australia with a white dad that…isn’t there,” she huffed, and swiped at her cheeks.
“Well, hey,” Sean murmured. “We all have different experiences, but I can help out with that. Dad’s from Mumbai, remember?” He squeezed her knee. “We got you.”
She leaned into him.
She wouldn’t let her kid grow up feeling the loss she did.
Or she’d end up with a child with that same space in their heart.
She squeezed her fist, fingernails digging into her palm. No. She wouldn’t let that happen.
Which was easier said than done.
Tilly was a habit more than a decade in the making.
* * *
Being at work was the best of all distractions from all of her swirling emotions. Evie started her first shift by waiting for Darren to arrive. While sweating in her car and sucking back tepid water from her water bottle, her phone rang.
“Mum! Hi! You’re on hands-free, I’m waiting to pick up a client.”
“Can you talk?”
“Yeah, I have a few minutes.”
“I worry about your driving all the time.”
Evie smiled. “I know. But it’s part of the job. I moved to be more in the middle of my work-zone to reduce it a bit.”
Her mum tutted. “Yes, yes, I know. I also know that this is the promotion you wanted and you worked hard for it. But don’t you miss being in one house, working with a group so closely? It’s what you loved.”
“I do… I really do. It was my favourite part of the job. It still is—it’s why I cover as often as I can when people are off. But I also really, really love organising and scheduling and working with the teams.”
“I suppose you did colour-code everything as a kid.”
Evie laughed. “Remember when I organised your bookshelf?”
“Yes, it took me forever to find anything again. I liked it eclectic. But for Christmas lunch, are you still bringing that sparkling wine punch thing?”
Evie’s stomach twisted at the thought of the lunch. Of telling her mum. But it twisted even more at the thought of having kept this from her for so long. “Yeah, of course, all the ingredients are in the fridge ready to mix.”
“Don’t know why I thought they wouldn’t be. Okay, love you—see you soon!”
“Love you, bye Mum.”
Evie was grateful when Darren appeared as soon as she hung up, leaving her no time to dwell on what was to come. He spotted her car, his face splitting into a giant grin.
He fumbled with the door handle for a moment, but she didn’t lean over and open it for him from the inside. He liked doing it on his own. When he slid into his seat, flushed and cheeks shiny with sweat just as her own were, his grin grew even more.
“Evie!”
“Hey! Terrence had an appointment and I’d finished all my paperwork today, so I get to take you home.”
He bounced a little in his seat. “And you’ll stay with us for dinner?”
“Yup.” She started the engine. “Seatbelt.”
“Oh!” He buckled up and folded his hands on his lap, the smile on his face never leaving. “Stacy, now?” The routine was entrenched in his memory.
“Yeah, we’ll get Stacy from her job, then Cameron.”
“Cameron.”
From her periphery as she pulled out of the supermarket car park into traffic, his smile dropped. “Did you and Cameron fight again?”
Best friends, yet even the two of them butted heads at times.
“He wouldn’t let me watch cartoons. He said it’s for children.” His tone went high, distressed. “I’m not a baby.”
The usual argument they had, then. Darren was very sensitive to being called a baby. He was forty-three, and with Down syndrome, people often treated him as an eternal child. “No, you’re not. And we will tell Cameron that’s not okay, you are allowed to enjoy whatever you enjoy. I love cartoons.” She smiled and could feel some of his unease fall away. “But were you sharing the TV?”
There was only silence, and she bit back a grin. Cameron wasn’t normally unkind; in fact, he was usually full of sweet comments and stories. But sometimes he lashed out when pushed. “Darren?”
More silence, broken by the clicking of the indicator as she waited to enter a roundabout. She took the opportunity to glance over at Darren, who was staring down at his hands.
“I watched past my turn,” he mumbled.
“What’s one of the rules? I have the same at my house.”
“We share. And we all have a time with the TV. But also, be kind.”
“Good rules to live by.”
Evie made a mental note to check with Terrence if this was a regular occurrence. If so, they would need to nip it in the bud to stop an escalation. Stacy didn’t do well with conflict, and had moved into this house after she and another resident had clashed too much. Personality clashes were always a balancing act.
“If I say sorry to Cameron for using the TV, do you think he will say sorry to me?”
“I think that’s a great starting point.”
Darren settled back into his chair, much more content.
If only apologies settled everything.
Evie pulled over, Stacy already waiting and waving at the sight of the car.
Evie’s stomach rolled at the thought of the weekend plans with her family. She told herself it would be fine.
* * *
The breeze outside was cool and exactly what they all needed. It played between the trees in Evie’s mum’s backyard, rustling and sending the smell of eucalyptus to settle in their hair. The barbeque was hot and smoking, and they sat around an outside table eating coleslaw and potato salad with slightly blackened sausages. Evie’s mum had made pork and chestnut zongzi—Tilly’s favourite, which meant they lasted all of five minutes—and potstickers, a collective favourite that were downed at a speedy rate. Everyone had on tacky paper hats from Christmas crackers—a last-minute detail Sean had brought so they could celebrate “properly”. Her mum sat next to Tilly, asking her about her work and blinking too fast when Tilly spoke about social media and marketing terms, and Sean was chatting with her brother about law. Jayden had cornered Sean the second they’d arrived to ask about law degrees and to beg for any of his old notes if he’d kept them.
Sean instantly winced.
“You don’t have any?” Jayden asked.
“I got rid of them ages ago.”
Jayden’s shoulders slumped. “Ah. I just figured you were a bit of a loser like Evie and had everything catalogued in a box by colours and dates and subject.”
Sean’s head whipped around to her. “You still have that stuff?”
Tilly snorted. “Of course she does.”
Jayden, pushing his hair out of his eyes, grinned. “She has a box here at mum’s with her final exam study stuff catalogued too.”
“Jayden, be quiet.” Evie narrowed her eyes.
“She has a piece of paper on top with her cataloguing system,” he continued. “It’s cross referenced.”
“Did you complain when you needed it in Year Twelve?” Evie asked pointedly.
“No, he definitely did not,” Lin said.
“Best sister ever.” Jayden batted his eyes.
Evie threw a walnut from one of the salads at him. He ducked it easily.
Grinning, Tilly cut Evie some slack. “So you’re in Bali for Christmas?” Tilly asked Evie’s mum.
“I am! We leave in a week and don’t come back until after the New Year.” Evie’s mum sat back in her chair, the red paper hat dipping precariously as if about to drop off.
“So jealous, Lin,” Tilly said. “Are all five of the Shrieking Sheilas going?”
“We are. And how’s work?” her mum asked Evie, turning from Tilly.
“Fine. We have a good team and a few new businesses working with us towards employment for some of our clients.”
“Good! And none of that paid-less-thanks-to-atrocious-disability-laws crap, I hope?”
“Nope, paid minimum wage, thankfully. I’ve been stuck in the office the last two weeks, speaking to our newest lot of hires. This week, I’ll be out visiting houses again so can organise those interested to go in and have an interview.”
“Good, good.” There was a lull, and her mum got a little misty eyed, looking around the table at Sean and Jayden chatting, the little string of Christmas lights she’d put around the balcony railing twinkling in the twilight. “It’s so nice to have you all here.”
Tilly reached out and took Evie’s mum’s hand, who pulled their joined hands against her chest and smiled, a little watery.
“We’re happy to be here,” Tilly said. “Our second home.”
“When Rick left—” Evie’s stomach twisted, red hot and angry, and in her peripheral, she saw Tilly’s glance flash over to her, then back to her mum “—well, it felt like our family broke. To not hear from him in over twenty years, I… I’m so happy Evie has you both.”
Her dad’s name was a reverberating echo. Evie never knew what to say when he was mentioned. His name had been so taboo for years in case it made her mum cry, then out of nowhere started to get dropped at random moments, a surprise each time it landed.
But now, more than ever, his name wrenched something inside her. His face, now heavily lined, flashed in her mind.
Over twenty years.
What an ass.
“Screw him,” Jayden said, throwing an arm over their mum’s shoulder.
Evie loved her brother, even if he was as annoying as anything.
“Don’t say that.” But her mum leaned into Jayden, a small smile at her lips.
Her dad’s name now roaring in her ears, and Tilly’s two quick glances, the rainy pub night rearing up, those messages and phone calls starting an argument neither had talked about since… Evie needed to change the subject. “I’m—I’m lucky to have them.” She cleared her throat. “I’m especially lucky to have them now.”
“Mm. Why’s that?” Her mum took a sip of wine, relaxed and content.
This was like being a teenager and having to confess about the time she’d reversed the car into a telephone pole right after getting her licence.
Evie wasn’t a teenager. She was an adult. An adult who had no idea what she was doing, and who flinched at her dad’s name and wanted her best friend to just stay put for more than twelve months straight, but still.
Sean was telling Jayden about The Fridge Poacher, though Evie was sure before it had been The Lunch Poacher. Apparently, Colin and Sean were starting to suspect Erica, and that she’d been pretending her things went missing to throw them off the trail. This was based on the fact that there’d been chocolate cake crumbs on her table on the same day Sean was down a piece of chocolate cake.
Evie took a breath. She could do this. “Well, I actually have something to tell you.”
Sean trailed off as he and Jayden both turned to look at her. Under the table, Tilly’s hand crept out to rest against her knee. A simple, welcome touch. A balm to calm her down. The squeeze centred her for a second and Evie wondered if there ever would be a time parents’ reactions to their children’s own choices wouldn’t matter so much.
“Um.” She cleared her throat again. “Well. I have some news.”
Her mum blinked at her, and Jayden leaned forward as if he was realising something.
“This is a bit out of the blue, I know that.” She swallowed and Tilly’s hand squeezed a little tighter and Sean gave her a small smile across the table. “I’m pregnant.”
Everyone froze.
It seemed to be the standard reaction to this news.
To be fair, she’d frozen too.
Her mother reacted first. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. Sat up straighter, tugging the ridiculous hat straight, which somehow made it more ridiculous. “Are—are you happy about that, honey?”
Something in Evie’s chest loosened at the concern. “It was a shock—this wasn’t planned. But I’ve decided to keep it, and I’m happy now. I’m still coming to terms with what it all means.”
Her mum opened her mouth, then closed it.
“You can ask questions, Mum.”
She sat forward eagerly. “So—you’re not seeing anyone.” Her eyes went from Sean to Tilly. “Is this… Are the three of you doing this together? Is that how this happened?” She asked it nicely, like someone trying to understand something and not wanting to cause offence.
Sean let out a cackle and Tilly’s hand squeezed as she snorted and Evie smiled, relief spreading through her muscles. “No—I mean, we’re not a triad, Mum. The three of us. We’re friends. But, I mean, Tilly and Sean are helping me.”
Still looking between the three of them, her mum nodded. “Well, it’s good you have a support network. So who is the fath—the other parent?”
When she’d come out as pansexual, her mum had read every queer website on the internet. She’d ordered T-shirts and worn them every time they had coffee. It would have been embarrassing if it weren’t so moving.
“Well, this is a bit. Awkward. It’s a guy I met out. Nothing serious.”
Her brother’s face went red.
Her mum barely blinked. Why was she so comfortable with talking about sex while their children melted into their chairs at the insinuation of the word?
“A one-night stand, Evie?” her mum asked, pure curiosity.
Sean cackled again but tried to bury it in his drink and Tilly looked like she was biting the inside of her cheek to hide her smile.
Evie’s cheeks burned. “Yes, Mum.”
“Well, good for you.”
Why? Why was her mother like this?
“Thanks, Mum.” Because what else did you say when your mum congratulated you on your one-night stand?
Sean couldn’t hide his delight anymore, booming a laugh. “I just love coming here.”
“And I love having you, Sean.”
His delight increased, and Evie thought she might disappear into her chair. Her brother looked exactly how she felt.
“So, Jayden,” her mum said. “You’ll be an uncle.”
His hand ran through his hair again, eyes going a little wide. “Oh wow, yeah. An uncle! This is…intense. Congrats, Evie?”
She gave him a smile. “Thanks. You’ll be Uncle Jay-Jay.”
His face dropped. “Don’t you dare.”
Sean perked up, ever an eye for mischief. “Why no Jay-Jay?”
“Evie—” Jayden was glaring at her, but too late.
“It’s just a childhood nickname he decided at twelve was ‘too childish now he’s a man’. No big story, but he hates us telling the part about him saying he was a man at twelve.”
Jayden was bright red. “Yes, yes, hilarious. No Uncle Jay-Jay.”
Evie pressed her lips together to hide her smile. “We’ll see.”
“Wait!” her mum exclaimed. “I’ll be a grandmother!” And then she teared up again, her face soft and smiling. She turned back to Evie. “Stop teasing your brother and tell us everything. How far along are you? When are you due?”
She was getting excited and Evie felt that a weight had shifted, and she could breathe a little more.
“Um, I’m about halfway. A little over twenty weeks.”
“Stand up, Evie!”
And she did, her mother coming around the corner to hug her, tight, before pulling back and putting her hand on her stomach. “Well, this shirt did a good job at hiding such a gorgeous baby bump.” Her mother cupped her cheeks, pulling her forward to press their foreheads together. “Congratulations, sweetheart,” she whispered.
Evie rested her fingers gently on her mother’s wrists and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She hadn’t realised how much she’d needed to hear that. “Thank you.”
“Of course. And you know I’ll be here, for every step and every moment you need me.”
“I do.” Evie breathed a huge sigh of relief, anyway.
Then her brother was behind her, wrapping her in a hug from behind, her mother in front, and she let herself be sandwiched between them. For a moment, it could have been that time five years after her dad disappeared, when the three of them really started to feel like their own unit.
On the way home in the car with Sean and Tilly, all Evie could do was stare out the window.
When she was a teenager, she’d liked her mum less. Not loved her less, but she was embarrassed by how open she was, about the things she said. But guilt would always creep its way in for feeling like that, because Evie overheard her mum talking on the phone with her friend once, about how she never wanted her kids to not talk to her, so she talked about everything with her kids. How secrets built. How Evie’s dad leaving still ate away at her, because until this day she still didn’t know why.
She’d been kinder to her mum after that.
Evie’s fingers clenched around her seatbelt.
“I love that she thought the three of us were a triad,” Sean said. He threw her a grin. “Imagine.”
Evie snorted. “I wonder how long she’s thought that.”
“Can’t have been too long, she wouldn’t keep those thoughts to herself.”
“Unless this was just the confirmation she thought she needed.”
“Oh, God.”
They laughed, the sound wrapping around them in the dark, and Evie pressed her hand to her belly, the baby moving around and around. When they got home, Sean’s headlights pulling out of the driveway and his car disappearing off down the road, the only sounds were of distant traffic, the wind rustling the trees that lined the street and, very vaguely, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
Tilly twisted her key in the lock and held the door open. Evie tugged her bag higher onto her shoulder and followed Tilly inside. Everything was dark and she let her hand fall back to her stomach, the baby moving slowly.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Tilly said. She hesitated in the creeping dark, before saying, “I thought maybe you’d talked to your mum. About your dad.”
Everything screamed to a halt. The air was sucked out of the room. Evie didn’t want to talk about this. Tilly stayed in place but remained motionless. As if she knew she was pushing.
The baby moved faster than it ever had, giving a swift kick, and, for the first time, Evie truly felt a responding movement against her hand. She gasped out loud.
Tilly took a quick step forward, breaking the spell of too much unsaid. “Are you okay?” she asked, flicking on the light.
Another kick. Definitely against her hand. Evie turned slowly, a smile stretching her cheeks. “Tilly, come here.”
Tilly closed the distance between them. “Are you okay?” she repeated, with less concern at the sight of Evie’s obvious delight.
Again, the kick.
“Tilly, the baby. You’ll be able to feel it, come here.”
And Evie didn’t even wait, just reached out and grabbed Tilly’s hand, tugging her forward and pressing it right where her own had been, both her own hands holding her there, fingers wrapped around Tilly’s wrist. Tilly stared down at their hands with wide, wide eyes.
Nothing happened.
Her gaze crept up, questioningly, to meet Evie’s.
“It’ll happen,” Evie whispered.
Another minute passed.
“I don’t feel anything,” Tilly said, disappointment obvious in her voice. Which was wasted, because the baby immediately kicked again, swift and hard, and Tilly’s eyes widened even more. “Oh my God, Evie!”
Another kick.
And Evie’s eyes were full, her smile watery but true. “Tilly, it’s responding to your voice.” So that hadn’t been her imagination. A tear ran down her cheek and she laughed.
Tilly shook her head. “No, no way.”
Another kick.
And this time, they both laughed, Evie’s cheeks damp and her smile huge and Tilly’s eyes full of wonder, all the things they weren’t talking about filling the spaces between them.