July, 2004

Campbell

'What you said at the trial...do you really think I'll be that amazing in ten years?'

I grin, 'Why, Anna Fitzgerald, are you fishing for compliments?'

'Forget I said anything.'

'Yes, I do. I imagine you'll be breaking guys' hearts, or painting in Montmartre, or flying fighter jets, or hiking through undiscovered countries.' I mean this, too. Whatever she becomes, she will be pretty amazing. 'Maybe all of the above.'

I wonder what she wants to do when she's older. I wonder if she's ever thought that far ahead, since until now she's never been able to do anything.

I look at her. She is bowed over, her face concealed behind a veil of hair. She is fiddling with her hands, and looks small and awkward, on the brink of adolescence. And yet it is so easy to see past all of that, through the determination that radiates from her; you can see the brilliant woman she will become. Idly, she starts stroking Judge's head. I don't tell her not to.

'Ten years from now, I'd like to be Kate's sister.'

What can I say to that? How can I tell her that she will be, that everything will be OK, when it is so clear that it won't? What can I do to console her, when her sister is probably in the midst of dying right now, as I drive her to the hospital where she will say goodbye?

So I don't say anything, because I am a coward.

Judge pines in the back, and as I turn to face Anna I am shocked to see silent tears stream down her face. I pull over as best I can, the rain making it almost impossible to drive.

'Anna-'I begin.

'Don't stop driving,' she says, her expression vacant, though the tears continue to fall. 'I want to be there when...'

She doesn't finish, she doesn't have to. I drive.

I concentrate on the road, so I don't have to look at her. I remember how my dad used to turn off the wipers, how as a kid I got so freaked out when he did it.

When you drive, you can do what you want, he had said, and in all my years of driving not once had I tried it. The road is clear, just a long, straight line, and I suddenly have an overwhelming desire to see what happens.

And so I turn off the wipers, and within seconds the outside world is lost to the rain. I stare out at the droplets, seeing the blurred, distorted shapes. It's nice, watching the rain without worrying about the rest of the world. It's like being a kid again, when I could spend hours on end just staring outside, before I had anything to worry about, before everything got fucked up. I feel a strong sense of nostalgia for my child self-the boy so eager to impress his father, the boy who wasn't such as asshole as I am now.

And now I understand how my dad didn't get worried, or scared. When you're the one driving the car, it's different. You know you have the power to flick the switch, and voila! You can see again. You have power. Control.

'Campbell!'

I am broken out of my reverie by a terrified shriek from Anna. I turn the wipers back on, and the world is just as we'd left it. Anna is staring at me as if I am crazy.

'Are you trying to kill me or something?'

'Sorry', I say. 'Just something my dad used to do to me.' I smile wryly. 'It drove me crazy, too'

'Well, don't do it to me,' she muttered. 'Else I'll sue you for endangering my life.'

I start to laugh.' You're going to sue a lawyer?' Then I remember that she already did that.

She remembers too, and smiles. 'Yeah. I'll get my mum to represent me.'

We both start laughing, and then jump as thunder rumbles, too close for comfort.

'Hey, what animal were you?' she says, a totally random change in conversation. What is going on in her head? 'I asked you before, but you changed the subject.'

I smile. 'Yeah, I have a habit of doing that.'

'See, you're doing it again. Answer the question.'

'A parasite on the underbelly of a toad.' I say, thinking back to my conversation with Julia. I watch as frown lines appear on Anna's forehead. 'Why?'

'Ask Julia.'

I turn back to the road, slowing down as we reach the intersection. Here there is a straggle of cars, the people inside wishing they were anywhere else but on the road right now.

As the wipers pick up a frantic pace, I can only see for a second or so before the world is obscured again. Each second the view is slightly different. One less car there, one more there, a flash of lightning. Then I see a truck as it veers to the right, tires slipping and squealing, heading straight for us. And our car is still moving, and I want to punch the brakes but I don't, and I am thrust into the windshield. I see the bonnet crunch up, the other driver being flung from her car, but the last thing I see is Anna's face, her eyes wide and unblinking, before I black out.

***

When I woke up at the hospital, I have a pounding headache and am soaking wet, and the first thing I stupidly think is holy shit I've had a seizure in a swimming pool. Then I realise that A) I haven't been swimming in ten years, and B) I am covered in blood.I remember what happened. And I remember that Anna was in the car with me, and that she wasn't moving and oh god oh shit and I get off the bed why am I on a bed and I try and find her and where the fuck is she? I shout at someone and throw something at the wall with my left arm because my right arm won't move and I see Brian, and then I think clearly.

'Where's Anna?' I say. But I know the answer, and he hears the untold question is she dead? His expression says it all. Oh Jesus. Oh God, no.

***

I am here in the middle of the night, with no-one else around, since I must be the last person on earth her family would want to see right now. They'll be here, but they'll be with Kate, she's the sick child. Apparently I have to stay in hospital for the night, in case I have a concussion or something from knocking my head on the windscreen. Yeah, like my head could get any worse.

I slip into her room, leaving Judge in the hallway. Anna is lying on a bed. Why does she need a bed? There is a chair beside her head, it is rock hard. You aren't allowed to feel comfortable when you're doing this. Her eyes are now closed, but her body is too straight, too rigid, it is unnatural. There is no way she could be sleeping.

I take her hand, for the first time, and it is swallowed up within mine. It's easy to forget how young she really is. Was. She still has the purple sparkle nail polish on, the symbol of the young teen, of gigglings and boyfriends and glossy magazines. I wonder if she ever had any of that. Will the nail polish last? Will she be buried with it?

What do I say? I have no idea. I swallow, and am surprised to see that I am crying. I haven't cried in years. I guess she's the first person I've had to cry about. I never realised how much I cared for this little girl, how much of an impact she had on my life, on everyone's life. Of course she was cared for. Of course she was loved. How could she think that it wasn't enough? She was amazing.

Are you trying to kill me or something?

I open my mouth, and words came.

'No, Anna. I wasn't trying to kill you.' I turn away, ashamed to look at her.

'But I guess I succeeded anyway.'

I get up and walk away. At the doorway, I pause.

'I'm sorry Anna, for everything.' For taking up your case. For getting in that goddamn car with you. For killing you.

She is pale and perfect. Her skin looks blue under the neon lights.

Are you trying to kill me or something?

January, 2006

I am in bed with Julia. It is about 2 months after the wedding, it is 2:14 am, and I think she is sleeping when a voice emerges from the darkness.

'Campbell? Are you awake?'

'No.'

'Campbell, can we have a baby?'

I turn rigid beside her. 'Are you asking for my permission?'

'Well, I kinda need your help with the process, so...yeah, I guess I am.'

'Isn't this rushing things a bit? I mean, we just got married.' I am stalling, and she knows it.

'Campbell, I'm 35. I've known you since I was 17. You can hardly call that rushing things.'

'I just - can I think about this?'

''Kay,' she murmurs, and soon afterwards I hear her breathing deepen as she drifts off into sleep. How does she do that? It takes me hours to get to sleep. Subconsciously she curls up against me, moving with my body. God, I love her.

I think about what she said. Honestly, I've never even thought about having children. I mean, after the accident I didn't think I'd get to this stage in my life, let alone become a parent. A conversation I had with Anna plays in my mind, sending a pang of dull pain course through me. I can forget what I had to eat yesterday, yet I could probably recite every conversation I had with her over those few days.

'Do you have kids?' Anna asks.

I laugh. 'What do you think?'

'It's probably a good thing,' she admits. 'No offense, but you don't exactly look like a parent.'

I wonder if she'd think differently now. I mean, I don't exactly look different but a lot has changed. I live with Julia, in a new apartment, with Smilla the fridge and Janet the toilet. Izzy, of all people, did the decorating, after seeing where I lived before she threatened to kill me if I so much as came near a paintbrush. I would have laughed at this, but the scary thing is I think she was serious. The apartments nice, but although it's as big as my old one, it's much more cluttered-apparently Julia's been hoarding things for years.

There is even food in the fridge-Julia has been trying to teach me to cook, in vain. It's kinda funny, how Julia is so incredibly independent, and yet I seem to rely on everyone-Judge, Julia, Kerri, et cetera.

But Julia relies on me also, and Judge relies on me. And I think that maybe-just maybe-I am ready to have a child to rely on me.

Two weeks later, the test shows positive, and Julia is pregnant with our first child.

July, 2006

Julia

I am lying on the couch, my head in Campbell's lap. He is reading, I am thinking. It is now 6 months into the pregnancy, and I feel enormous, though I will get bigger. I imagine my belly as a bubble being blown-it grows larger and larger, until the baby pops out. If only it were that easy.

The baby stirs from within, and as always I can't help but wonder at the novelty that there is a baby inside me. I think about some of the more extreme cases that I am involved in, children who are abused, abandoned. I just can't understand how mothers can abandon their children-when you have such an intimate connection with someone, how can you ever let go?

It's a girl, we know that much. I want to know as much as possible about our baby, but, sadly, medical science and CT scans can only go so far. The scans kept going wrong; the picture was too fuzzy to make out the sex of the baby. Or maybe our nurse was just incredibly incompetent. Either way, by the third scan where we didn't find out our baby's sex, I was just about ready to tear myself open to find out.

I jump as Campbell's icy hand snakes under my blouse, resting on my belly.

'You're cold.' I complain.

'Sorry.' He makes no attempt to move his hand, so I rub at it, warming it. His fingers are very long and his hand is shaking, just a little. I leave my hand next to his, and imagine that through my hand I can feel the tiny, throbbing heartbeat, but no, I feel it from within me.

I tilt my head upwards so that I can see his face. 'We should think up some names for her,' I say. I have been thinking about this for days. He puts the book down. I peek at the title-it's in Latin. Jesus. 'Oh? I thought you had names picked out since you were 17,' he jokes. I remain mute; he is right. My stolid expression gives this away, and I smile at the shock that flashes on his face.

'Um, wow, really? You were thinking about names for our kids?'

'I was thinking about commitment.' Why did I say that? 'I take that back, I didn't mean that.' Already I feel guilty at the tortured expression on his face.

''S'okay. So go on then. What names did you have planned?'

'Well...for a boy I was thinking about David.'

'That's nice.' But not important. 'And for a girl?'

I don't want to answer. When I was 17, my prime candidate for a girl's name was Anna. But there's no way in hell I'm going to say this. He sees my hesitation. 'What was it?'

'It was... it doesn't matter. What names can you think of?'

'God, I have no idea. Becky? Amy? Caitlin?'

I pull a face, scrunching up my nose. 'Too common. Why don't we give her a month name? April, May, June?'

'What about October? She's due in October, and no-one else has a name like that.'

I hit him lightly. 'We are not calling our baby girl October.'

'How about Wednesday?' He is biting his lower lip, restraining the grin that threatens to surface. I groan.

'Do you actually hate this baby?'

'Avalon? That's pretty.'

'Mmm, that's a possibility.'

'I knew a girl who was called Rain. Let's call her Rain.'

I raise my eyebrows. 'Rain?' I say dubiously.

'Well, I think she was called Rain. I can't really remember, it was only for one night.'

My eyebrows sink further behind my fringe. 'Charming,' I say sarcastically. 'Why don't we get one of those baby books that give you loads of names?'

He shakes his head. 'Why bother? You can look it up on the internet, and all they are is a testament to how little imagination we have when it comes to names for our child.' I love the way he says our child. He sighs. 'Look, this is hopeless. Neither of us can think of anything.'

I don't want to admit it, but he's probably right. We are silent for a long time, lost in separate trails of thought. He toys with my hair. I've cut it short again, but left it black.

'Hope,' I say.

'What?'

'The name. For the baby. Hope.'

He considers. 'Hope for what?'

'Hope that she will be healthy. Hope that she will have a long, happy life. Hope that she will know how much we love her, and that our love will always be enough.' My voice is hitching, it wavers.

Campbell is staring at me, and I look into his frosted eyes. His pupils are large in the semi-darkness, the only light coming from the rapidly sinking sun, framed against the red-tinged sky. Within his pupils I see my reflection.

My expression is a mirror image of his own, and I realise that he knows what I am thinking; that he is thinking the same thing, but neither one of us will ever say it.

'Hope' he agrees softly.

'Hope.' We smile, but for some reason I want to cry.

Judge noses the living room door open, and trots up to Campbell, nuzzling his hand and pining. Campbell sighs, and moves to get up. He is ashamed to let me see it happening.

'Stay,' I command, as though he is a large, disobedient dog. But he is already up, easing my head off his lap so it thumps back onto the couch.

'I don't want to hurt you.' He says this numbly, without emotion.

'I don't care,' I say.

'Or the baby.' Oh. Right.

He glances down at where the baby resides within me. At where Hope resides within me. I relent, letting him go, but as he moves away I grab his hand again and hold onto it until I can't reach any further, and have to let go. He goes into the bathroom and locks the door, locking me out.

I don't tell him how much this scares me. I don't tell him how much this hurts me.