Tilly
New Year’s Day, like Christmas, should be like any other day. But for Tilly, the first of January was always full of something fresh. She woke up with the taste of opportunity on her tongue. As if things really were different, or at least as if the perspective had shifted, even a little. It was farfetched, she knew. Nothing had changed in the few hours before and after midnight.
Yet still, she liked the idea of New Year’s. She wandered along the beach, sand kicking up and sticking to her legs as she occasionally meandered into the cool water before returning to the drier sand. The breeze that came in was gentle, offering the slightest bit of relief to the heat that had been persistent all day.
She missed the rain. The cool. Summer was always great for about a week and then she missed the change of autumn. The trees lining the street of her childhood home had flamed orange in autumn—something not as common in Australia as other places. The colour was incredible. Her school had only tea trees and eucalyptus trees. No flaming orange and red and yellow there.
Thinking of that street, her school, and where she’d grown up was a dangerous road and she stopped, wrapping her arms around her middle and staring out at the ocean. It was dead calm, the tiny little waves barely making a ripple in the water. Out on a rock, a seal was lazing in the sun. A nearby family was standing, their little boy lifted in one of the parents’ arms as they pointed, trying to get him to notice the seal. His pudgy little hand pointed too, his whole face lighting up when he saw it. He gave a peal of laughter.
Tilly was smiling gently before she’d even realised she was doing it.
Guilt trampled through her and she shook her head, turning to walk back up the beach and to the car park so she could call an Uber.
Today was not a day for dark thoughts. It was a day for new beginnings.
She’d given Evie some space. She’d seen Sean a few days ago and they’d avoided talking about anything serious and instead, he’d bought her lunch and then they’d gone to see a film, and it felt like a day back at uni, when things were a little more carefree. Except Evie was missing.
They didn’t talk about Evie, though.
However, now it was New Year’s Day. A new year.
She was going to go and see Evie. They couldn’t stay like this. Everything Evie felt was legitimate, but Tilly was still here, and she wasn’t going to go anywhere.
She’d prove that to Evie. Somehow.
But she wasn’t going to prove it by staying away.
Tilly had done a lot of assuming how Evie would feel or felt or was going to feel. And that wasn’t fair. That realisation on her way back after the rainy pub night, and the desire to finally tell Evie how she felt, hadn’t gone anywhere. Yet there Tilly had been, about to leave again, thinking it would make this easier for Evie.
Evie had certainly shown Tilly how wrong that had been in the bus station.
So, Tilly would go and see her. If she didn’t want to see Tilly, fine.
But Evie could tell her that herself. She wasn’t a fragile flower.
New year, new start.
Jaw set, determined, Tilly ordered an Uber.
It took ages to show up, being New Year’s Day, and would cost an arm and a leg. Luckily, the last few freelance jobs had paid on time rather than needing to be chased up. The woman in the Uber was chatty as anything. She was Muslim, she said, and happy to be working over a holiday period as fewer people took shifts, the pay was good, and there were more customers for her to pick up. They talked in the car about the different holidays they celebrated and Tilly gave her a cash tip as she slid out of the car.
The Uber drove off and Tilly took in a deep breath as she stared at Evie’s little flat.
There was a ute parked on the curb. A workman’s ute. Sean’s car was there too.
Was Luke here?
Was that Luke’s ute? Was he handy on top of being the father of Evie’s baby? All useful and able to fix things? Tilly could barely use superglue without gluing her fingers to any surface near her. The last had been the floor. That had been embarrassing.
This was a mistake.
But she could see someone standing on the front step, and the outline wasn’t that of the guy Tilly had seen in the bar. This man was older.
Unease filled her gut.
Tilly walked over, to the front entrance. The light spilled out from the lounge room and the man standing on the front step was an older white man. Greying around the temples. Salt and pepper beard.
Evie’s hand clutched at the door, her top half leaning out behind it. Why was she hiding her pregnancy?
Sean stood behind her, close and protective, face scrunched up in concern.
“Uh, hey?” Tilly gave a wave.
The man turned and looked at her and Sean’s wide eyes met her own.
But Evie barely spared her a glance. Her focus was on the man. “Please leave.”
The man turned back to Evie. “Evelyn.” His voice was clear. Higher than she would have expected. A wave of nervousness. “Please. I just want to talk.”
“I made it pretty clear that I don’t!” Evie had never sounded this angry before, not even at the bus station. “You can’t show up out of nowhere and call the shots, as much as that would surprise you.”
Was that…Evie’s dad?
“I only want to talk,” he repeated.
“Good on you,” she said. “I don’t. I made that clear. You don’t get to disappear for over twenty years then drop back in like it’s all fine and dandy because you want to it be.”
“I know.” He cleared his throat. “Please. Just. Half an hour?”
Tilly wished she could see his face. She was torn between feeling bad for him and angry for Evie.
“No.” Evie crossed her arms. “I want you to go.”
“You wouldn’t answer my calls. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Generally, when someone doesn’t answer your calls or messages, it’s a sign they don’t want to talk to you. And you’re supposed to respect that.”
“I…” His shoulders slumped. “Okay. I’ll go. I’m—I’m sorry—”
Evie snorted.
“If you change your mind and want to talk, you have my number on your phone. I’m living in Perth now.”
She snorted again.
“And I’d… I’d love to—to talk. That’s all.” He stood for a moment, as if hoping for something. “Happy New Year.”
And he turned and walked past Tilly, giving her a nod. They all stood there as they listened to his ute start up, then pull away.
Tilly looked at Evie. She was trembling, white-knuckled as she clutched the door. Face flushed.
“How dare he,” she spat. She sucked in a breath and looked Tilly straight in the eye. “And now you’re here. Excellent.”
Tilly blinked at that. It was filled with less venom than when she’d spoken to her dad, but there was some definite anger in her voice. “I’ll go.”
Evie took another deep breath and rolled her eyes, her hand finally falling from the door. “No.” She closed her eyes for a second, as if gathering strength. “Come in. Unless you’ll just take off tomorrow.”
Tilly gulped. “No. Nope. Not going to go.”
She snorted. Again. That was a lot of indignant sounds. “Sure you won’t.” She spun around and Sean stepped out of her way, his eyes still wide as she walked past him to presumably sit on the couch.
He looked to Tilly. “I’m missing something.”
Evie snorted again from the lounge room.
Tilly gave him a weak smile and wondered if maybe she should run away. Instead, she squared her shoulders and walked in after Evie.
It was strange. She’d always put her feelings about Evie on the backburner. No, not even there. She’d buried them, deep down. Put them to rest. She rarely thought of them. Being in love with Evie was like breathing. It was something essential that she simply did all the time, without conscious thought.
Tilly was in love with her, but remained her best friend. It wasn’t even hard. Her feelings were her own. She still had Evie in her life, in a solid, beautiful way. She’d never felt like she was missing something, not really.
Until she’d made the firm decision to tell Evie the truth, and the equally firm decision not to say anything the instant she’d seen that positive pregnancy test. After ten years of being able to ignore her feelings, Tilly suddenly couldn’t. Everything in her felt soft for Evie. For her little pregnancy stomach. For the baby she was growing.
And Evie had kissed her and that had blown Tilly into pieces.
But now was not the time to think on that, because Evie was glaring at her like she half wished Tilly would burst into flames.
“Evie? Are you—Are you okay?” Sean asked, sitting next to her.
Tilly remained standing awkwardly.
Evie shrugged. “No.”
Sean looked to Tilly as if for help, but then apparently seeing she was useless there, turned back to Evie. “I—” He paused, considering his words. “Have you heard from your dad before now?”
Evie’s jaw clenched, her eyes flashing angrily to Tilly before she looked back to Sean. “Yes.”
He blinked, surprise etched in the lines around his eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this alone. When did you hear from him?”
Evie gave Tilly another angry glance. “About six months ago.”
“Oh.” His eyes widened, and then his gaze also flicked to Tilly.
Who sighed and sat in an armchair.
Evie did not look at Tilly this time. Which was definitely deliberate.
“Okay then.” Sean’s gaze left Tilly to glance at Evie’s stomach. When he looked up at Evie again, she had narrowed her eyes at him. “Six months, huh?”
Silence settled in the room.
“Well.” He broke the silence. “I’m gonna put this out there. Six months ago, you heard from your dad, Tilly took off, and you got knocked up.” He clapped his hands together once, holding them together on his lap, gaze going from one of them to the other, to Evie’s belly and back. “Interesting.” He rubbed his palms on his thighs, the glares Evie and Tilly were giving him not seeming to faze him one bit. “In-teresting.” He drew the word out that time.
Tilly didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t hers to say. And the parts that were hers happened to be trapped in the deepest levels of herself. Deeper than where she’d pushed her feelings for Evie.
Far deeper.
Evie let out a long breath. “Yes. Interesting.” She cleared her throat as she picked at a bit of fluff from her jeans. “So interesting.”
“Would I be wrong to assume,” Sean broached, “that the two of you had an argument before Tilly took off this time?”
They both swung their heads to give him identical pointed looks of surprise.
Sean shrugged. “Look, it wasn’t subtle. You hadn’t left in ages,” he said to Tilly. “And you usually give us more advance notice before taking off. That time, it was a measly text message right before your bus left—much like the other day.” He narrowed his eyes at her and she winced. “And Evie.” Sean raised his eyebrows. “You were pissed that time when she was gone.”
Evie was very pointedly not looking at Tilly.
The ripped-up postcard had been a pretty big clue that Evie had been mad, but hearing it so blatantly confirmed from Sean had Tilly crossing her arms and leaning back into her chair.
Sean looked from one to the other. “Did you or did you not argue about Evie’s dad before Tilly left?”
Tilly felt like a kid being told off by a disappointed parent. That was always worse than anger.
Evie threw up her hands. “Yes, we did. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’d heard from my dad, Sean, but—”
“Hey.” He held his own hands up, but in gentle supplication. “You don’t have to apologise. You share with me what you want. I can’t even imagine how confused you must have been hearing from your dad. No apologies needed.”
Evie’s shoulders sagged as the tension drained from them. “Sorry,” Evie said softly.
Sean rested a hand on her arm. “No need.”
Jealousy flipped in Tilly’s stomach. Not of Sean. But out of fear that she wouldn’t have the ability to touch Evie like that anymore; that she wouldn’t be the one to diffuse the defensiveness that was rising up in Evie purely because it was easier to be mad than show the hurt. That maybe that kiss had ruined them. That maybe Tilly almost leaving after that argument had ruined them. Or this baby could ruin them. Or Evie’s dad.
Tilly’s secret.
Maybe they’d been ruined from the start. From that little shared room and its space created all for them.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, nearly too loudly to concentrate on the two in front of her. So much was coming to a head and none of it was something Tilly was ready for.
“I got an email from my dad,” Evie said. “He got it from my job’s website. All he had to do was google my name, I’m on the page with a photo and everything. He called the organisation and got my work number when I didn’t answer his email—” She interrupted Sean’s indignation before it could truly begin. “My work number isn’t private,” she said, and Sean deflated. “They weren’t breaking any kind of privacy rule or anything. But he called after hours when I was at a pub with Tilly.”
Tilly swallowed as Evie got to this part, that night a shadow in her memory. They’d never argued before, not like that.
Evie wasn’t looking at her. Tilly’s heart was still thudding away, too hard. Too loud. Nausea swirled in her stomach.
“I thought it was a work call, so I answered.” Evie was ashen.
Not as ashen as she had been in the pub that night, cheeks draining of colour. The rain had been coming down all day, the cold chasing inside every time someone opened the door. But the pub had been warm and cosy, dimly lit by a soft, orange glow, with a fire crackling in the corner. They’d been there for hours, eating heavy, comforting pub food and sipping slowly at a beer or two. The weather had been miserable, but they were snug, sitting close, elbows bumping. She couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about. But Tilly remembered how she felt so light and free. She’d been thinking that she hadn’t up and left in a long time. That this could, really, be all she wanted.
Until the phone had rung. Until that rosiness had drained from Evie’s cheeks. It was all downhill from there. Or maybe it should be uphill—painful and long, hurting their muscles as they fought upwards anyway.
“Hearing his voice was…” Evie drew in a shuddering breath. “It was such a shock. I knew immediately who it was. And this is what makes me so mad.” She sent a flaming look to Tilly before she gave her attention to Sean again. “He has no idea that I remember his voice. I remember him reading me books, and playing with me. I was a little nine-year-old girl he left behind with zero explanation. A girl who thought about her father’s voice for years. For far too long. That a simple phone call could be that hard. He has no idea. And he thinks he can just burst his way back in uninvited after twenty-two years?”
Guilt writhed with the nausea in Tilly’s stomach for what Evie was about to say next.
“I told him to leave me alone and hung up on him.” Evie swallowed, her gaze solid on Sean. “And then I told Tilly, and do you know what she said? The first thing?”
Sean shook his head.
Tilly ducked her head, because she knew. And she still didn’t know how she could have said anything else. But of course, Evie couldn’t see that. Tilly couldn’t even fault her.
“She said I should give him a chance to explain.”
Tilly closed her eyes for a moment. Because she couldn’t have said anything else, but she also knew she could have at least tried to say it differently. Or after some time. She took a breath in and out slowly. Then opened her eyes. Evie’s glowering gaze was on her, and Sean was looking at her, appearing slightly taken aback and curious, but not mad. Well, maybe a little mad; although not as much as she’d thought he would be.
She wasn’t ready for any of this.
It was getting too close to things she didn’t want to share.
“I’m sorry, Evie,” Tilly whispered.
Evie scoffed. It was softened by the brightness of her eyes, the high red in her cheeks.
“Then what happened?” Sean asked.
Tilly couldn’t blame him.
“Then,” Evie said, “we had an incredibly loud fight in the pub.”
Tilly swallowed. The flashes of it didn’t leave her. They probably never would. They’d literally never argued. Sure, they got on each other’s nerves at times. Bickered.
But never had they fought.
They did then, though.
It had all culminated in the street, where they’d ended up to avoid the stares they’d started to attract indoors. It was dark except for the streetlights. The rain was lashing down. Their hair hung limp around their faces, clinging to their cheeks. They’d forgotten their umbrellas in the pub, left them half-dried in their spot at the entrance.
They’d forgotten everything as they’d stood too close and raged at each other:
“How could you even defend him?”
“You can’t just make out like he’s a demon, you could at least fucking hear him out.”
“You don’t get to say that, I owe him nothing.”
“He’s your father, you could at least talk to him!”
“That’s not what a father does. Parents don’t up and abandon their kids. How could you—you know how awful this is for me! How hard! How could you take his side?”
“Don’t be so immature, Evie, it’s not about sides.”
“Immature?” Oh, that earned outrage on Evie’s face, tears mingling with rain on her cheeks, ashen and cold in the storm. “Immature is fucking taking off like a child running from their problems all the time.”
“You know nothing about my problems.”
“And whose fault is that?”
And Tilly had stormed away.
And had left the next day.