It's two weeks since the conversation in the locker room, and so far Harry has said nothing else to you. He has a firm enough grip on biology to know about timings, fertility and ovulation and you had expected him to suggest, or just to bring the subject up again. Especially now this week. Oh you just didn't know anymore. For one moment a fortnight ago, you had understood that Harry Cunningham had agreed to father a child with you, but two weeks on you're not so sure.
He's not said another word.
Was he waiting for you?
The nightmares had subsided though, he was right about that.
But you hadn't dreamed this you really had asked the man for his help, and he'd agreed, did he really need you to come begging and pleading and produce a calendar for him. The more time went by you suspected that what he was actually planning on was something entirely different.
He's been seemingly more conscientious at work. Even Leo has noticed and he hadn't noticed anything much for weeks. Well only the things he could claim they had done wrong so he could vent some of his anger by shouting at the pair of them.
"Do you fancy getting some dinner tonight?" you ask trying not to sound as if you're begging.
"What out?" he replies without looking up.
"Does it matter?" you reply. You hate these cryptic conversations.
"Sorry I'm busy tonight," he replies and looks up at you briefly.
"Oh," you hear yourself say disappointedly. "Did it matter then?"
"What matter?"
"Matter if it was out or in?"
"Hunh?"
"What about the weekend?" he suggests after a long pause.
You know the weekends are always busy and you also know for a fact he's on call, so will very likely have to cancel at the last minute.
"That sounds great," you lie and smile and watch his mouth smile back at you. His eyes still have that sad look, they acquired a fortnight ago.
It's a month, two months it's easy to keep track of that anniversary. You never have had that dinner out. He keeps giving you bizarre things, a Lyell Centre keyring being the most odd, DVD's he thinks' you'll enjoy and a CD. His behaviour is certainly strange, his shirts louder and then he started disappearing for long weekends. He said it was to take care of his mother after a fall, but you know that's not true. You felt bad about phoning her, but if she had had a fall you could have genuinely been calling to give your best wishes, not to check up on her son.
As the months passed instead of a new life beginning to grow inside you a seething ball of disappointment and resentment begins to grow. Spreading like a tumour and infecting even the most common place of conversations. You'd seen him today, staring at you from behind his screen. When you looked up, you saw his hand dart across his eyes and then heard him say.
"I do keep my promises Nikki," before disappearing into the cutting room for the afternoon.
So what do you think? I've never written anything so fast, so hope it's ok. The rest up tomorrow I hope.