Eleven Weeks (16 page)

“Because I wanted my first time to be with someone who mattered, Stace. Someone I really liked.”

I nod. So I’m pregnant, and he’s a virgin. Fabulous.

“That’s why I didn’t try anything those last few months at school. Because I knew you were not … you know … and I didn’t think you’d be interested. Plus, I did kind of tell you how gorgeous I thought you were,
all the time—
”

“But you never made a move!” I pull back.

“You never made one, Stace. Look at you.” He presses his body back farther against the seat and I shuffle my way to his side. I miss the feeling of him beneath me already. “You’re like this freaking babe, who is popular, and funny, and smart—”

“Hah!”

“You are, Stacey. And I’m just this idiot guy in a band who hasn’t even been laid.” He clasps his hands together and leans forward, studying the cracked pavement in front of us. “You never took a chance on us.”

I look at him. I study his dark hair, the lean muscles lining his shoulders, and I know. He is a truly decent guy, who is embarking upon a life filled with truly decent things.

I know that this can be the last time we hang out.

“Look, Michael. Today has been fun” —
and your kisses were amazing
—
“
but you can’t keep coming back to see me anymore. You’re in a band”—
and have zillions of hot, non-pregnant girls on tour
—“and I can’t imagine getting back here is cheap. We should just head home”—
actually, also because I’m hungry, and that means I might spew again
—“and then we should just, cool it, yeah? You and I … we’re never going to work.”

Because I’m pregnant. You have always been better than me.

And you’re never going to be a part of my world.

The car ride home is one silent hour of torture. All I have to do is look at Michael’s face to see the pain in his eyes; it’s etched for the world to see. It stings knowing I’m the one who put that hurt there, and that it’s mirrored in my heart, too.

Just pretend, Stacey.

Just pretend.

Dear Small Human,

You’ll be proud to know I’m going to cut my sister’s hair, and I’m doing it for you.

During the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about our life together. Where we’re gonna live. How we’re gonna get by.

I know I’ll have to tell Mum and Dad—your grandma and grandpa—soon, and I guess we’ll live here for the first year or so, till we can find a place of our own. In the meantime, I’ll try and find a job, raise some money—and cut my sister’s hair.

I have to.

You’re counting on me.

And God, am I counting on you. Right now, I’m alone. I am so alone that it scares me sometimes, and I just don’t see a way out.

You’re going to change all that.

You’ll love me … won’t you?

Mum xx

December 25

“M
ERRY
C
HRISTMAS!”
Mum raps her knuckles on the door to my room and I squint my eyes open.

“Merry Christmas,” I mutter. The ceiling above me is white, littered with all those glow-in-the-dark stickers that little kids love. It’s a mixture of My Little Pony and the universe; before me, Shae had this room. It’s not hard to guess which of those stickers belonged to her.

I throw back my ridiculously childish quilt and swing my legs out of bed, whooshing out a deep breath of air as I do. I swallow down my saliva, hoping that today will be a break from the vomit. Thank God I have my own bathroom. Otherwise, I can’t imagine how I’d hide the morning sickness from my over-the-top family.

Before I get up, I reach under my pillow, assessing the packet of Cheese & Onion chips there and the grated cheese in the bag next to it. While I can’t seem to stomach a heap of food during the day, in the middle of the night, I’m craving weird things. After judging the crisps—too crushed to salvage—the cheese—been out of the fridge for at least five hours now, and slightly squishy—and the chicken bone—what? I stole some barbeque chicken and ate that in the middle of the night too?—I throw them all in my trashcan.

My phone buzzes on my nightstand, and I reach over to grab it.

Michael:
Happy Christmas, doll! Hope you get spoilt rotten. Maybe we could catch up tonight? I’m in town seeing Mum before heading off to Wollongong next week.

I shake my head. God, do I want to. But I can’t. I just can’t.

I delete the text, as I did the other five messages he’s sent me since we returned from Sydney. He’s so sweet, and caring, and
perfect.
Why does he have to be so goddamn nice and caring when I’ve been nothing but a dismissive, whorish bitch?

I throw my phone across the room. Sometimes, it’s the easiest option.

Downstairs, the house is buzzing. Mum is bustling about in the kitchen, and a mixture of garlic, onions, and some kind of roasting meat comes wafting up the stairs as I walk down. My stomach gives the tiniest of flip-flops, but my food stays in its place and I smile. Small mercies.

On the couch, dressed to the nines and with a full face of makeup, is Shae, with my brothers Sean, Steve, and Scotty littered on the floor around her. It doesn’t matter that Sean and Scotty live out of home—they’re still at our house first thing every Christmas morning. Sean’s wife, Sally—yes, he managed to find someone whose first name started with
S
—was even sprawled out on the floor, her baby bump swelling.

I rub my own stomach self-consciously. Sally’s not wearing any makeup, but her cheeks are flushed in a healthy looking way, and despite the big round turtle she has strapped to her stomach, she doesn’t look as if she’s gained weight anywhere else. I wonder if that’s how I’ll look when I’m at her stage? Will I be the stereotypical “glowing” mother-to-be?

“You’ve put on a little weight.” Shae nods in my direction, and I freeze. Honestly, maybe a tiny bit, but no more than what I would have if I’d eaten a big meal.

I rub my bump again. It’s not even a bump. More like a … slight incline and decline.

Ah, crap. That’s a bump.

“Just been eating lots since school finished.” I shrug it off as if it’s no big deal, but mentally bump up
tell family you’re pregnant
on the importance level on my to-do list. Because that’ll be a fun conversation.

“Keeping in shape is important,” Sean says. After getting his masters in business and a diploma in physical education, Sean now owns a gym. He should know. “Are you binge drinking, by any chance?” He looks down his long, pointy nose at me, and I smile. We’ve never been close—at thirty-two, he’s a hell of a lot older than me—but he likes to put on a fatherly display every now and then. You know, when he’s not too busy downing protein shakes to waste his open mouth time on talking.

“Not really.” I smile sweetly.

“That is one of the biggest causes of weight gain. It makes you eat the most ridiculous things at the most ridiculous hours of the day.”

I smirk, thinking of the chicken carcass and weird snacks in my trashcan upstairs. “I’d believe it.”

“I’ve been on this new diet. I’m basically going all-natural.” Shae puffs out her chest. “My boss, Evan—the really fabulous one I’ve been telling you about—he’s been great. He even bought one of those microwave ovens so I can cook things fresh.”

“He single?” I smile.

“Has to be,” Scotty chimes in, and we exchange a look. The look that says,
“Shae is getting laid by her boss.”

“As a matter of fact, he is married with a two-year-old kid. And he happens to like me for my business skills.” Shae levels us with a glare of her own, only hers says
“Unlike you, Scotty Still In University and Stacey Doesn’t Have A Job.”

“Can we just get to the presents?” Dad asks. He’s so softly spoken, I sometimes forget he’s even there. Then again, it’s not hard to get lost in the sea of voices of the Allison family. I should know.

Presents are handed out, and unwrapped. Shae gets a new skirt suit. Steve receives a voucher for a furniture store—no doubt a subtle
move out of home
message. Scotty is handed a gift voucher for shark diving in Cape Town—he’s going to Africa for two months to help build schools for underprivileged children, and plans to stop at Cape Town on the way back. I get a voucher for a nail salon appointment.

“Who’s this for?” Sally asks as Sean thrusts a present into her hands. They’ve already opened their gift from Mum and Dad, another voucher—since Mum discovered online shopping, she’s all about the gift certificate—only this one for a romantic weekend away in the Hunter Valley, an hour or so north of where we live. Aka wine country.

“It’s for Peanut.” Sean smiles, and rubs Sally’s belly. I want to barf. I mean, calling their unborn child Peanut? How original!

So why am I crying?

I quickly shove my fist to my eyes to stop the tears. Screw this pregnancy business! I feel like everything is striking me deeper, touching me emotionally in ways it wouldn’t have before.

Sally carefully opens the package—she’s not the ripping paper type—and pulls out the sweetest little neutral-coloured jumpsuit I’ve ever seen. It’s just so tiny, and fluffy looking, and they’re going to put their baby in that, and—this time I do choke on a sob.

“What’s the matter, Stace?” Sean asks.

Seven heads swivel and focus in on me.

“It’s just …”
Sob
. “… really tiny.” My voice gets a little high-pitched, and I try to calm my breathing. This is ridiculous. It’s not like me to get so emotional over such a small thing.

I wipe my eyes.

“Must be that time of the month,” Scotty says, giving a half smile.

I sniffle, and my tears stop. Quite the opposite, actually. And not having to shove a freaking tampon into my vagina multiple times a day for a week for the next nine months of my life sounds pretty damn good.

“Ah, the pre-menstrual jokes,” Shae says. “The curse we must bear for being women with three brothers.”

“What’s their excuse, though?” I give Shae a small smile of solidarity and she winks at me and ruffles my hair. Her hand gets tangled in one of the knots and she laces it back out.

“Your hair is seriously so long, Stace. Maybe you could try being a hair model or something.” She smiles. “You know, especially if you keep eating and putting on the weight. You probably couldn’t pull of catwalk anymore …”

She means well. She really does. And I guess it’s a compliment. But sometimes, it’s tiring being put in a freaking box.

“I’m going to … check my phone,” I mutter, standing up.

“It was a joke, Stace.” Shae gabs my hand and tries to pull me back down. I shrug her off.

“All good.” I flash her a half-hearted smile and traipse my way back upstairs.

I walk into my room and flop down on the bed. Man, all this pink stuff will have to go. What if I have a little boy? God, where am I going to live? Will I stay here with Mum and Dad, Shae, and Scotty?

Well, Shae and Scotty are apparently moving out soon …

I need some money. I need to get a job. I need a
plan
.