Seven Days: The Complete Story (34 page)

“Just open
it.”

So I do. And
that’s when the leaping begins. Well, after I double check and
triple check that what I’m holding is an expense paid trip to Spain
and Italy and pick myself up from the floor where I’ve slipped over
doing my little happy dance. Socked feet and shiny timber floors
are not a recipe for stability under any circumstances.

I let out a
squeal of delight. I bounce onto the boys alternately hugging then
kissing them. I think I might be about to pee myself I’m so utterly
pumped.

“Settle,
baby,” Nicholas says at last. His grin is wide as he rests his
hands on my shoulders trying to calm me down. He’s happy that I’m
happy. He’s basking in it.

“I can’t! This
is so freaking awesome. Do you realise how awesome this is?”

“Sort of.” His
smile grows wider. “That was the idea.”

I flip through
the itinerary and it’s then I notice Nicholas and Joel’s names
alongside mine. “You’re coming too?”

Joel says,
“Nick and I discussed it. We reckon the blokes can survive a
fortnight without us. Jill’s more than capable of keeping them in
line.”

Oh my god,
this is even more awesome. This is literally the king of awesome.
Nicholas, Joel and I are going on a freaking holiday. My dream
holiday.

“But you don’t
do holidays. You told me that. Why now?” I look from one to the
other for clarification.

“Well for one,
we’ve worked pretty hard over the past five years, so we deserve
it.”

“And for two,”
Joel adds, “The other side of the world might be the only place we
can ever be together in public the way we want to be. It’s only a
short trip. We know you’ll be starting your job in the new year.
You need to get prepared for that.”

I squeal
again. “I wouldn’t care if it was for a week. This is the best
present ever. And sharing it with you is going to make it even
better.”

We spend the
rest of the evening making plans of where we’re going to visit and
the sites we’d like to see. The boys have never been to Italy or
Spain either so we have to pack as much as we can into our weeklong
stay. I’m so thankful that I put my passport application in when I
thought I might be going on the study tour.

“We’ll stay in
Italy for a week,” Nicholas says. “I booked us tickets for the
ferry to Barcelona and we can rent a car there and travel
around.”

“I really want
to go to Malaga to see the Picasso Museum,” I say. “And a
bullfight. We need to see a bullfight.” The smile on my face is so
wide it’s starting to hurt.

“We can do
anything you want.”

I love that
he’s indulging me.

“There’s a lot
to see in Rome itself, so I’ve arranged for us to stay right in the
heart. Our hotel is across from the Trevi Fountain. We have a view
of it from our balcony.”

This is
awesome and super romantic. I’ve never met any guy as thoughtful
and romantic as Nicholas.

“We’ll have to
chuck a few coins in the fountain, make some wishes,” Joel
jokes.

I wrap my arms
around each of them in turn, kissing their lips. “I don’t need to.
All my wishes have come true.”

*****

The weeks
before we leave for our trip are hectic. I’m glad I’m on holiday —
well, except for my job prepartions and the couple of shifts I got
as an usher at the local theatre — because there’s a million and
one things that have to be done. Like shopping for one. And waxing.
There is no way the boys are seeing me in that scuzzy old bikini
from two years ago or with hairy body parts. Which is kind of silly
when you stop to consider it. They see me naked every night. They
probably won’t even notice if my bikini is new.

Two days
before we’re due to leave I get my hair done. It takes me hours to
organise my suitcase and pack for every possible eventuality but
finally my new luggage — I’ve never needed luggage before — is
standing in the hall with our tickets and itinerary. I know Joel
will say I’m mental for being so over organised. He’ll throw a few
things in a suitcase an hour before we leave or just buy new stuff.
But this is the first time I’ve been anywhere on a plane. What can
I say? I’m super excited. So excited, in fact, that I decide to
snap a pic and send it to Emily. She’ll understand my obsession
with my new black and white print luggage and the fact that I
packed and re-packed it five times so I could learn how to fit it
all neatly. Whether she replies or not is another matter.

I click the
camera button and press send.

Emily’s reply
is fast, which sort of astounds me.

luggage babe>

Nicholas bought it for me as an early Christmas gift>

has taste>

She hasn’t
asked me why I need it yet or where I’m going.

needed to lift my game if we’re sitting in business class>

I’m hoping
that will spark her interest. Emily has an unrequited love for
business class. She longs to make it mutual but her parents rarely
come to the party and she can’t afford it herself.

The replying
ting is almost instant.

the hell are you going?>

Spain. Only for a fortnight. I got a job. I start in the new
year>

spending your inheritance?>

are paying. It’s my graduation present>

some. I got nothing>

This is one of
the reasons I hate texting. You can’t hear the intonation in a
person’s voice. Now I don’t know if she’s being spiteful or taking
the piss.

from Alex?>

sex would be enough>

Oh that’s
rough.

I type. I’m tired of
texting. It’s so time consuming when you could just speak to the
person.

home. But you have a good time and remember to live like tomorrow
is your last day on Earth>

That’s the old
Emily. Maybe she’s thawing. I decide to take a punt.

See you when I get back?>

stick to texting for now>

Or maybe
not.

I put my phone
aside and go into the bedroom to put the things away I decided not
to pack. It doesn’t take more than five minutes but it makes me
feel exhausted, so I pull back the covers and hop into bed. A quick
nap should pick me up, I think as my eyelids droop. The boys will
be home in an hour and I have to be awake for them.

But I’m
not.

In fact, I
sleep right through the cooking of dinner and Joel having the sound
system on full tilt while he listens to Artic Monkeys.

When I do
wake, it’s dark and I’m disoriented. The moon has risen outside and
there’s a figure sitting on the side of the bed in the shadows
watching me.

“Hey.”

I rub the
sleep from my eyes but I don’t feel I can get up yet. I’m not fully
awake. “Hi.”

Nicholas
stretches out on the bed beside me. He wraps himself around me like
a big manly cocoon. He pecks my lips gently, then the tip of my
nose. “What’s up? Why’re you sleeping in the middle of the day
again?”

“I was tired.
It’s the end of the year thing. I’m always exhausted after exams.
It takes me a week or so to unwind.”

A frown
crinkles the space between his eyebrows. “It’s been three weeks.
You can’t be tired after three weeks. Are you okay?”

“Don’t I look
okay?” I joke.

“You know what
I mean.”

“I’m fine. I’m
just tired. It’s been a hectic time. And like I said I’m always
useless at the end of the academic year. I must drain all my
resources with exams or something.”

He sits up.
“Well, as long as you’re sure. Dinner’s ready by the way. Your
favourite.”

“Salmon?”

“No, deep
fried bat’s eyes. Of course salmon. Now get your pretty arse out of
that bed and come and join us.”

I salute. “Yes
sir!”

Nicholas
chuckles. “You can call me that again later if you like. I think I
like it. Or master. That could work too.”

I groan
loudly. “In your dreams.”

I get out of
bed and stretch. I slip into my track pants and pull my hair up
into a bun, the type Nicholas says he loves because he can see my
neck. He adores my neck. Then I pad after him into the living room.
Joel has set the table so I sit at the end with them on either
side. It’s not a positioning we consciously chose, it merely seems
like it’s where I should be. I’ve sat here since the first night we
ate together.

The salmon and
salad are delicious and as the boys bounce ideas across the table
and discuss last minute details for the running of Hardwick &
Lawson while we’re away, I contemplate everything that’s happened
over the past few weeks. It
has
been a huge month —
graduation, the whole Mason saga, getting offered a job, planning
for the trip — but now I’m analysing it, I don’t think that’s the
reason I’m tired. Just like that stomach bug I had at graduation
wasn’t really a stomach bug.

Mentally, I
begin to count back. It’s been two months since I had a period. Two
months since Joel’s birthday and that night of incredible sex, the
night when Nicholas ran out of condoms and I told him not to worry
because I was on the Pill. It hasn’t occurred to me until now that
I actually forgot to take it a couple of days in a row before
that.

One by one the
pennies drop into place. And the clanging at the bottom of the jar
sounds like shackles hitting a flagstone prison floor.

Oh.

My.

God.

I’m
pregnant.

Like I’ve had
a stroke or something, my fork falls from my hand, hitting the
plate and causing the boys to cease their conversation. I must look
like I’ve seen a ghost because their faces change from jovial to
serious as soon as they look at me.

“Sadie?”

I look from
Nicholas to Joel. Fuck, this is awkward. How am I going to tell
them?

“Um, I think
we have a problem.”

“Changed your
mind on which bikini to pack?” Joel quips. “I told you, leave them
both at home. I like my mermaids au naturel.”

“It’s a little
more dire than bikini choice.” I swallow. Suddenly my mouth is dry.
Really dry. “I think I might be pregnant.”

Nicholas spits
his mouthful of wine across the remains of his dinner. Joel’s eyes
are wider than the dinner plate. Both of them turn a deathly shade
of pale, similar to the colour of the faux polar bear rug in the
den.

“Pregnant?”

“How did that
happen?”

I think that’s
fairly obvious.

“I’m pretty
sure it was on your birthday,” I tell Joel. “Remember how out of it
I was, and how good the sex was?”

“And how you
told me not to bother with the condom.” Nicholas’ voice is sombre
and quiet. Very quiet.

“Yes.”

“But you’re on
the Pill.”

“I forgot to
take it a couple of days before hand. It didn’t occur to me until
now. And that night, if I hadn’t been so high I most likely would
have remembered and told you it wasn’t safe.”

“
Fuuuuuuck
.” That’s Joel.

“Double fuck,”
Nicholas says.

I know why.
He’s thinking the baby is his. It has to be his. Not that it
matters. None of us want a baby. What the hell are we meant to do
with a baby? How can the baby have two daddies? If I have a baby
our relationship — the one we have now — will have to change.

We sit in
silence for a long while after that. I guess none of us has
anything to say. We’re in shock or maybe we’re dissecting the
ramifications of my revelation. I watch as Nicholas twiddles his
fork between his fingers. He’s given up eating. And Joel appears to
be taking his frustration out on his fish. I’m glad I’m not a piece
of salmon; he’s stabbing it to death with his fork. I’m about to
clear our plates away when Joel leaps up abruptly from his seat. He
looks like someone’s filled his chair with drawing pins.

“I can’t sit
here and do nothing. I’m going to the chemist.”

Nicholas
stares at Joel. “What the hell for?”

“A pregnancy
test. She might not even be pregnant.”

“Uh, I do have
a name.” I’m getting cross now. He’s acting like this is my fault.
Which it sort of is but technically you do require sperm to make a
baby so I’m not entirely to blame.

Joel is
suitably chastised. “Sorry. I was being a dick. It’s just the shock
that’s all.” He walks past me, his hand grazing my arm as he heads
for the garage door. “I won’t be long.”

“I’ll do the
dishes,” I say, because I can’t think of anything else
productive.

“I’ll help.”
Seems Nicholas is in the same boat.

While Joel is
gone, Nicholas and I stand at the sink. I don’t know why we’re
washing dishes when we own a perfectly good dishwasher but neither
of us appears to have registered this fact. It’s something about
hands in warm soapy water, I guess. Or maybe the mundaneness of the
task? It takes our minds off the stork standing by the fireplace,
the one who’s carrying a bundle in a nappy and bearing a sign, ‘For
Sadie’. I wonder if Nicholas can see it too.

“I’m sorry,
babe,” Nicholas says after a bit. “I’ve really fucked this up.”

I remove my
soapy hand from the water and squeeze his. “It takes two to tango.
And anyway, we don’t know for certain until I do the test. I’ve
missed periods before at stressful times. After Mum died, I didn’t
have one for two months.”

“I think we
both know what that little white stick is going to tell us and it’s
not that you suck at washing up.” He hands me back one of the
dinner plates. In my absentmindedness I’ve only washed off half the
grime.

I re-wash the
plate. “What are we going to do?”

“I have no
idea.”

“I can’t have
an abortion.”

“I’d never ask
you to and neither would Joel. It’s not that I don’t want kids,
I’ve just never given it much thought.”