A/N: Long time coming, I know! Work has been hectic. Not entirely happy, but if I don't post now, I never will. Thanks for sticking with this crazy ride
Kate is discharged from the hospital, though it's really a formality at this point, when she's still spending all the time she can there with Amaya. The first night, Mrs O had forced her to come home and to get a good night's rest. Of course, she'd spent most of the night staring at the silhouette of the empty cot, wide awake, until she'd finally given up and moved to the lounge, carelessly flicking between late-night infomercials and old western movies. She wishes that she could drive; at least then she wouldn't have to rely on others to drive her around and bow to their own dictation of when she could and couldn't see her child. Mrs O is the worst, leaving her motel first thing in the morning and spending her time pestering Kate to rest, lamenting the deep shadows underneath Kate's eyes and her gaunt face. After three days of this, Kate had stubbornly printed off public transport routes, and she'd desisted.
In any case, Kate finds she sleeps better with her daughter close and by her side, comforted by each others' presence, and she and Mrs O both reach a sort of understanding. Kate will not do anything reckless to jeopardise her health, and Mrs O will not bring up Amaya's father, or Kate's plans for the future, even though Kate can tell it's a compromise that is taking her enormous effort.
To her credit though, neither Olinsky raises an eyebrow when they catch sight of Amaya's full name on her paperwork, even though many might be inclined to question Kate's choice of Watson as a middle name. Truth be told, even Kate questions whether she's delusional from lack of sleep to even consider it. After all, hadn't she had her own hang-ups about 'Katie'? But, like it or not, the Navy was definitely in this baby's blood. And it seemed only right to have some part of that in her name.
Mrs O had just smiled, either genuinely finding the name lovely, or a better actor than Kate remembered. "Amaya. What a beautiful name! Where did you hear it?"
Where had she heard it? Even now, she can't remember, exactly. Like the tune to a song she can't quite remember the lyrics to. It might have been a book, or something she'd unconsciously noticed in some TV show credits. Whatever or wherever it had come from, she finds she loves it more and more each minute, loves the way its three syllables roll off her tongue - Ah-my-ah. Ah-my-ah. Amaya Watson. Amaya Watson McGregor - and it's all she can do not to sing the name to the skies above.
To Kate's even greater surprise, Mrs O holds her tongue when Kate lists Amaya's surname as McGregor, and writes Unknown across the section regarding paternity. Kate knows, despite their terse understanding, that Mrs O was still holding out some semblance of hope that Shrimp's father's name would be revealed on paperwork, if not verbally acknowledged. Part of Kate – the part that's trying her best to understand a different point of view – knows that Mrs O has always loved mystery writing, had devoured pages of novels until the moment of the big reveal. This was just another mystery to her.
But, no. Amaya is a McGregor, her baby and her greatest treasure and the scariest, best challenge Kate will ever face. She's Kate's heart beating outside her body. She's a McGregor, whatever that entails.
Kate's not a monster, nor has she forgotten who helped give her Amaya, but she hides the pangs of guilt and shame from her face and signs the paperwork determinately. Then the paperwork is lodged, and Amaya Watson McGregor is Kate's, and Kate's alone.
With the whole question of a name, and Kate's discharge behind her, Kate focuses all her energy on Shrimp. There are still so many things she needs to do, but all roads lead to getting Shrimp home with her, and so Kate tackles them one at a time.
Mr O had informed her work about the less-than-planned birth, organising Kate's leave, returning paperwork she hadn't yet gotten around to, and the million and one Navy things that were so far from her mind, while Mrs O focuses her attention on Kate and Shrimp.
Kate keeps pushing herself to express milk, even though sometimes she has to screw up her face in pain. She hates the hands all over her as they, yet again, send some woman Kate has never met in to try and coax her milk out. The woman (lactation expert; she thinks she'd rather be called Katie for the rest of her life than have 'lactation expert' as a job title) paws at Kate with no semblance of respect for her dignity. And although Kate longs to snap, or maybe just to point out to the bloody boob lady that she knows how to fire a damn gun, so stop calling me honey, she grits her teeth and keeps trying to coax whatever milk she can from her concrete-hard breasts.
She still feels lousy, still feels as though her intestines are going to spill out of her with every step. She'd never realised how much she'd bleed after giving birth, hates the bloody maternity pads and cycling through her baggiest, daggiest undies. Hates the shame of those times she leaks, and the tub of underwear that Mrs O soaks in the tiny laundry cupboard. Her hair, having grown so thick and long throughout the pregnancy, is now falling out at an alarming rate, and, fuck, she's more than ready to swear off sex for the rest of her life, if this is the consequence. But just keeps trying, one foot in front of the other, one day at a time. And gradually, she gets healthier. And so does her daughter.
Kate finds it gradually easier to talk to Shrimp than anyone else around her (-No, Amaya. She really needs to get into the habit of calling her Amaya more or the poor kid would grow up with an identity complex on top of everything else.) Kate relays parts of her life under the cloud of a fairy tale, with brave sailors fighting water beasts and pirates. She talks about the sea and the moon and the tides, and the magical connections between them, accompanied by a backing track of beeps and whooshes. She speaks of their home and their friends, of Tony and Libby and Boxer. She lists the phonetic alphabet over and over again, even though her voice always shakes when she gets to Mike. When she runs out of things to talk about, she sings songs instead, albeit slightly out of tune. And when Amaya fusses, Kate can't help but smile. "Sorry, Shrimp." She laughs, as she stops singing Blitzkrieg Bop in favour of brushing a thumb over Shrimp's head. "But you're going to be raised on punk rock."
There are other families here, too, just like hers, and yet, so different. They don't speak much to each other, save for the occasional hi and bye as they pass each other in the hallways – fathers sipping terrible coffee and mothers in baggy clothes, all with the same terrified expressions Kate often wears. She doesn't take offence to the lack of conversation, though. Just like her, they're not here to socialise. They're here for their babies. Kate finds comfort in their presence anyway, of knowing she's not entirely alone.
So gradually, Kate gets into a routine. Mrs O drives by Kate's as early as she can, where Kate is ready and waiting on the front drive in clothes that at least somewhat match. She assures Mrs O that, yes, she had breakfast and, yes, she is feeling well, and then they both settle into silence as they drive, Mrs O occasionally sipping at a Thermos of hot tea. They make their way to the NICU, the path now well-engrained in their brains.
Mrs O will stay with her for half an hour or so, and then head back to Kate's, where she's taken to cooking and freezing meals until Kate's freezer threatens not to close. Kate, meanwhile, stays at the hospital for as long as she is permitted. Then, like a teenager with a curfew, she says her goodbyes to Amaya and heads out the front where Mr O is waiting to drive her home just in time for dinner.
Mrs O may have obsessively cooked and cleaned, but Mr O had his own restlessness. While his wife cooked, he took to performing odd jobs around her place. He'd replaced light bulbs with more economical options, swapped out her wonky letterbox for a new one. He'd cleaned out the gutters, moved the small amount of lawn she did have, and fixed her previously dripping shower.
She tries her best to be appreciative, to express her gratitude when her brain is focused only on Amaya. Tries to be a somewhat decent daughter, even though she's already hurt them in the worst possible way. She eats the meals. She washes her hair with the special, fruity treatment Mrs O had bought her. She hangs her broom up with the hooks Mr O had hung in her pantry, and manages a few cheery words on the newly weeded gardens and freshly planted flowers that Kate knows will probably not survive the first frost. Then the Olinskys leave for their hotel and Kate heads to her lounge to stare out the darkness once more.
When she does sleep, it's interlaced with twisted nightmares, of sick babies and no baby and Donna and Kate and their whole, sad, pathetic history, until she wakes, panting and drenched in sweat, to find it's only been forty minutes since she last looked at the clock. At other times, she's overcome with the urge to drag boxes and bags from her wardrobe in turn, rummaging through heeled shoes and old journals and her high school diploma, not quite sure what she's even looking for.
So, all in all, she prefers the hospital, as deeply troubling as that sounds. Sleepless nights and anxious searching didn't matter in the daylight, when her baby was there right beside her. Amaya was the antidote, her reason to keep going. And, in turn, Amaya was fighting too.
Amaya grows stronger by the day. Gradually, they've been lowering the concentration of oxygen that she's being given. Surprisingly, she'd been informed by the paediatric doctor in charge, her lungs were developing quite well considering her early arrival. They were hopeful that, soon, she would be able to breathe on her own.
She'd put on weight too, growing plumper in her face, arms and legs, so that she wasn't the sack of bones she was when she first arrived. She's still spindly, still tiny, but she was looking less like some alien creature and more like a baby every day. Kate had spent hours trying to identify some part of herself or Mike in her features. But Amaya is completely her own, from the top of her beanie-clad head right down to the ten spindly toes.
Kate has been able to hold her more too. At first, only mere minutes at a time, but gradually, day by day, the skin-to-skin contact times have increased, and Kate takes every opportunity she can to hold Amaya against her and tell her just how loved she is. She longs to do all those other things mothers get to do – blow raspberries on her belly and take her for walks. Simply to hold her without getting tangled amongst cords and cables would be amazing. She longs to show Amaya fresh air, and the trees and birds and sky and clouds and the sea. She wishes that she could take her away from this hospital, to be able to lay on her bed and see Amaya in her cot, safe and sound and home.
But she knows that, for the time being, Amaya is where she needs to be, whether Kate is happy about this or not. And so she settles for the time she does have with her instead, because she knows that, without the help of this whirlwind of doctors and nurses, she might not have had any time with her at all.
The sun is still rising when Kate finds herself on the front (freshly mown) lawn, her breath misting in front of her. Inevitably, her thoughts are on Amaya, imagining her eyes widening as she takes in the colours of her very first sunrise. She finds herself doing that a lot now – of wondering about Amaya and all the firsts that she is yet to experience. The first time in a car, first time coming home. First time breathing fresh air, or seeing a bird fly over. So much was unfamiliar, unimaginable. And Kate kept listing things in her mind, of the beauty of the world. The first time feeling a cool breeze upon her face. The first time digging her toes in the sand. Will Amaya love the sea as much as Kate does? Will she crave open spaces, or long to fly above the world?
So much is unknown.
There were so many things that Kate had taken for granted. In Kate's perfectly scheduled world, she'd still be pregnant. She'd head to work within the next hour, with all the time in the world to still feel Shrimp move inside her, still feel the reassuring kicks and the hiccups and all the rest. And then, weeks later, weeks ahead from now, she'd feel those first contractions. She'd work harder than she'd ever worked in her life to bring her baby into the world, and then she'd hold Amaya. And then, she'd be able to take her home, with no cords and no wires hiding her. She'd be able to rub her fingers over tiny toes, and breathe in her baby smell, and rock her to sleep and hold her just because she wants to. She longs to see those first toddling steps on this very lawn, and hear babbling and laughter throughout her too-small home.
She wants all of these things so much it hurts. She wants a future with her daughter.
She doesn't hear the door close, or the eager footsteps running towards her. All she registers is that, suddenly, Tony is in front of her, his wide, toothy smile splitting his face, and in spite of everything, Kate smiles too. "Kate! I've missed you!" He gabbles excitedly. He's still in his pyjamas, patterned with dinosaurs of course, hair messy and his feet jammed carelessly into a pair of his mother's gardening shoes. But he looks as happy as Kate has ever seen him. "I've been trying to see you, but you get up super early, so I set my alarm and waited! How are you?! Have you got any more pictures of Shrimp? Amaya is such a pretty name! I love it! Do you know what colour hair she has yet? And how are you? Are you sore? Are you-"
"Whoa, Tony!" Kate laughs, pulling him into a hug. He returns it, albeit gingerly, taking care not to bump into her. Tony, that same mix of all-too-serious-for-his-age and wild excitement and eagerness. And she wants to pick him up and whirl him around, because she's missed him so so much, but she knows that it would jeopardise much more than just her newfound truce with Mrs O. So she settles for the half-hug-half-arm-squeeze and smiles so much her cheeks hurt. "I've missed you, Kiddo. And I'm fine. She's fine."
There's so much more she wants to say to him, about how much this simple, uncomplicated, cross-generational friendship has meant to her. But she doesn't know if there are words important enough. So she sniffs, and holds back her tears. "Come by after school. Come and meet her."
Tony hesitates, shuffling a foot in his oversized shoes. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." She says, with more certainty than anything she's felt before. "Yes, I'm sure."
She tells Amaya about Tony, about just how important he and their family was to them. She talks about all the things that Heidi will teach her, about identifying species of frogs by their croaks, and how to care for a herb garden. She talks of Tony, of his love for dinosaurs and building things and how he's promised to teach them both to ride a bike. Ellie, of how she'll show her how to chase after their cats and dogs and stroke their fur, and laugh just because. And Dale, who had a museum worth of Lego models. all relics of his one true hobby.
She talks, and talks and talks, and suddenly Heidi and Tony are there, and Kate can hardly believe that it's 1530 already. Kate's holding her, still swamped with cords, but holding her all the same. Hers. Her Amaya. She's never had anything this precious in her life, and now, she's unaccountably nervous, as if Heidi and Tony were suddenly going to turn their noses up at her or something. Of course, she knows that this is an absurd thought; their hearts were too good to ever feel like that. It doesn't stop the feeling though.
Tony freezes in the doorway, eyes wide. And Kate wonders if inviting him here was too much for him. Sometimes she forgets that he's still a kid. That he'd probably imagined some fully developed newborn. Or that, after all his time in hospitals, this setting was less than ideal. "Tony?" She nibbles at her bottom lip, glancing at Heidi and trying desperately to read her mind. After all, Heidi knew him best, would be able to tell if Tony was overwhelmed. When Heidi offers her nothing, however, Kate turns back to Tony. "Tony?"
Tony turns around, waits for his mother to give a reassuring nod. And then he moves into the room. And despite the obvious fear and confusion in his eyes, there's also the spark of determination too. And Kate wonders how she could have doubted them, even for one fleeting moment. This boy who had more courage and resilience than any adult Kate ever knew. He stops just short of Kate and Amaya, rocking on the balls of his feet. "Hi, Shrimp." His words are barely a whisper, but he smiles nonetheless. "It's so nice to finally meet you."
"He talked about her for his news day." Heidi informs Kate as they both watch Tony chatting away sweetly to Amaya, one of his fingers held securely in Amaya's hand. Heidi speaks low, but Kate doesn't think it really makes a difference; Tony is so fixated on Shrimp, that she doubts he'd have heard even if his mother had shouted. He had already gifted Kate with a small wooden box he'd made himself, Amaya engraved in cursive along the top. A memory box, he'd explained, uncharacteristically shy as he'd handed it over. So you can keep all of those special things for her. Like… like her hospital tag, and first lock of hair from a haircut. Keepsakes, you know? He'd also gifted a bear, dressed smartly in a Navy uniform. Despite its small size, it was the exact same length as her. Because she's… she's a daughter of the sea. He'd explained, and Kate had wanted to whirl him around again.
"Really?" Kate laughs, though she's not surprised. Nearby, Tony is now making the teddy dance on the other side of the incubator for Amaya's amusement.
"Yeah." Heidi leans back against the wall, her beaded earrings catching the light momentarily. Like always, her many silver bangles jingle and chime with the movement, making Kate feel as ever, that Heidi is a tree fairy newly emerged from a forest somewhere. "His teacher said he gushed on about you and her for almost five minutes before she had to cut him off. He hadn't even met her yet."
Kate smiles a watery smile, even though she can't quite pin down why she's feeling so emotional. She's happy. Happy, and so very blessed, brushing a thumb against the A on the memory box that Tony had so lovingly crafted. "We're so lucky to have him. To… to have you all. I…" She struggles to find words important enough. "Well, I wouldn't have been able to do any of this without you."
Heidi doesn't answer at first, instead turning to look in the direction of Tony and Shrimp. "I... I don't think life ever throws anything at you that you won't be able to handle." She settles on eventually, and for a moment she seems to drift back into the past. But then she blinks, and smiles softly. "But I'm glad we're here with you now." They lapse into silence for the longest time yet, before Heidi broaches the all-too-familiar question. "So, how are you going, Kate?"
She doesn't ask in the same way as Mrs O does, or Libby. Doesn't ask as though she's about to start instructing or prescribing solutions. Doesn't ask as though she's judging. Regardless, Kate still responds automatically. "I'm fine." Heidi narrows her eyes, and Kate knows Heidi hadn't believed that in the slightest. "Okay," Kate agrees. "I'm not fine. But I'm... I'm okay. I've got... I've got all that I need." Kate's amazed by just how much Heidi can say without saying a word, as her face shifts into one that Kate knows means tell me. It's not demanding though. More of a tell me, because I know you need someone to talk to.
Kate has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. "Right." Kate fidgets with the end of her hair, which she'd secured lazily in a loose braid this morning. But the truth is a dangerous subject, because there were things Kate hadn't stopped to even consider, let alone bring into the world. So much of her reality was focused on the now. "I'm… I'm okay, most days. It's just… it's an adjustment." Heidi doesn't interrupt, but nods encouragingly, and Kate feels safe continuing. She just couldn't help but trust Heidi, no matter how tense a subject was. A moment later, however, Kate realises that she doesn't really know how to put her feelings into words. "I keep thinking about this… this other world where I'm still pregnant and she's healthy and… and the right size. I keep thinking about all those things that I'm missing. And then I want to take her home but when I do… I mean, she's got machines monitoring her at all times and… and trained experts looking after her. How do I compete with that? How do I give her what she needs when I don't know anything about her?"
"It's scary." Heidi agrees, and Kate knows that maybe, more than anyone else, she knows how Kate is feeling. That Heidi had seen machines and doctors care for her own son in a way that she, Heidi, had not been able to. "It's the scariest thing. You just... you tell yourself every day that they're where they need to be. But it's hard. It hurts to be so helpless."
Kate feels her hands fly to her dogtags instinctively, before remembering that they were still tossed in her bag. She settles instead on playing with her fingernails. "It's just me. I mean, I have friends and… and people I know who'll care for her, but at the end of the day, it's… it's just me. And I knew that! But now... I mean, she won't have… brothers and sisters or… or a dad or aunts and uncles. Just me." She turns back to the spot where Tony is. "Seeing Tony with her…" But she can't finish the sentence. Can't bring herself to. "I've got her. She's here. She's alive and she's here but..."
"Kate, you're allowed to grieve for your pregnancy." Heidi reaches over and squeezes Kate's hand reassuringly. "Just because she's here, doesn't mean you can't think about what might have happened if things were different."
"I feel so guilty." Kate can barely get the words out, so heavy is the lump in her throat. "Every time I think about it I just... I should be grateful. She is alive because... because hundreds of babies like her weren't. She's alive because of technologies that... that weren't around to save families like us. Women that... that would have been ready to have a kid. But here I am and... and I was going to give her up and now I just feel like someone is punishing me for even thinking about it-"
"Kate-" Heidi pulls at her, and Kate crumbles. A new wave of guilt hits her, because how insensitive can she be, speaking about her thoughts of abortion to the woman who had fought tooth and nail to save her own son?
"What if I can't do this? What if I'm not enough for her?" Her voice cracks, and she turns to face the wall, trying desperately to hide her tears. At Heidi's touch, however, Kate knows she's lost the battle to stem her tears. "She deserves so much more."
Heidi is silent for so long, Kate imagines, still staring at the wall through her streaming eyes, that Heidi is already pulling Tony away, abandoning her for her selfishness and stupidity. Kate doesn't want to turn around, convinced as she is that when she does, it will be empty. But a moment later, Heidi places a hand on Kate's shoulder and gently turns her around. And then, pulling Kate to her, she speaks. "I think the fact that you're worrying about this, means that you're exactly enough for her."
They stay for a few hours. Heidi sits with Kate, rubbing circles on her back until she finally hiccups herself into some semblance of calm. Kate heads to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, and by the time she returns, it's to see Heidi has joined her son around Shrimp's incubator. Kate makes her way there too and sits, and Tony wastes no more time filling Kate in on everything she's missed in her absence, from his toy helicopter falling victim to a daring mid-air catch from the cat, to the school disco, to the latest skateboard tricks he's learned. His happy, bubbly words fill the room with joy and whimsy that feels to Kate as comforting as sinking into a warm hot bath. She loves that she can share this with Shrimp too. That she has the chance to hear stories of the outside world from someone whole and happy and not constantly distracted and stressed, like Kate has been.
When it's time to leave, Heidi offers to drive Kate home to save the Olinskys the trip, and Kate accepts. The bright, cheery CD mixtape of 80s pop songs playing in the car is a very distinct change from Kate's normal musical selection, or the AM radio station that the O's car is always programmed to. And, musical tastes aside, she joins Heidi and Tony as they sing along.
By the time they return (Tony making sure to stand in his driveway until Kate was safely inside) Kate's cheeks are sore from smiling so much, and she heads into the house in good spirits. In her absence, Mrs O has done a load of laundry and is dutifully folding a stack of baby clothes while, on the stove, a saucepan of pasta bubbles away.
Mrs O smiles as Kate enters, and Mr O turns off the television, silencing the news anchor forecasting the weather. "Hey," Kate greets them both, picking up one of the onesies from the lounge. When she'd first bought them with Libby, she hadn't been able to get over just how tiny they were. Now, Kate is struck by the fact that it will surely be months before Shrimp is big enough to wear them. "You didn't need to wash them. They're all new."
"I noticed. They all had tags on them. Better to get them freshly washed and cleaned, ready for Bub. You never know who's been handling them at the store." Mrs O takes the onesie out of Kate's hands and folds it neatly too, setting it with the others in a basket, ready to go into the drawers in Kate and Shrimp's room. Kate smiles softly at Mrs O's mothering, remembering how she used to remove Kate's school uniforms from the rope strung between two poles that constituted the McGregor clothes line, returning a pile of neatly folded and ironed school dresses to their door each week without a word. There was so much Kate had never thanked her for. Judging by the look of the pile, Mrs O has also been shopping, because there's many Kate hasn't seen before.
"Did you buy more?" Kate asks, grateful and exasperated at the same time. "You do know I have to store all this stuff somewhere?" She punctuates the question with a cheeky grin, and glances at Mr O, who grins back and raises his hand in surrender.
"You know what Elle always says." He quips. "Be prepared. I think she's stocking up in case all the shops suddenly close."
"Oh, stop it!" Elle laughs back, crinkling her nose at him. "You chose about three quarters of them."
Kate laughs at their easy banter, and the way that Mrs O tosses a balled up pair of baby socks at him (Kate grinning even more as she remembers Libby's sock-rant). Mr O merely winks, and Mrs O sighs in defeat, continuing her conversation.
"Well, I've reorganised your linen cupboard, so you can move the rest of Amaya's bedding into there, and the towels, and that's more than enough to make up for the few things we-" She punctuates the word by gesturing pointedly between herself and her husband "-purchased today."
"Thank you." Kate murmurs, because she knows she hasn't said it enough. "Really, both of you. Thank you."
Mrs O smiles a little brighter and nods, before turning to the kitchen once more. "Hungry, Love?"
"A little bit." Kate decides. She's not, but she would much rather keep the peace. "What do you want me to do?"
She knows what Mrs O will say before she's said it, and Kate has to fight the urge to laugh as she watches Mr O mouth the words along, unseen by his wife. "Nothing. Just sit and relax."
The Olinskys leave after dinner, dessert and dishes. Kate leaps up to do the washing up (amid grumbled protests, to which Kate stubbornly glares down.) Mrs O packs away leftovers in the fridge for Kate, and Kate reflects that she needs to stop being so hard on them both, because she is truly appreciative of them. She knows there are times when she's snapped at one or both of them, times when she has to hold her tongue. But she knows she's lucky. She feels lucky, having people in her life who care for her, who want her to succeed at this.
She tries to put all of these feelings into the hug she bestows on both of them in turn. Kate likes to think that the extra squeeze she gets from Mr O means that he understands.
She loves them.
She just also loves not having to pretend to be any more okay than she is.
Crying with Heidi, as embarrassing as it had been, had been therapeutic. Kate knows that if she'd done the same in front of the Olinskys, they'd have been making plans for her to move back to Sydney before the first tear had fallen. And as much as she loves them both, sometimes she just wanted sympathy, rather than a solution.
Kate flops onto the lounge, then regrets it instantly as her middle protests. She hisses, readjusting into a more comfortable position and closing her eyes. She knows that it will be a long time before sleep will come, but even resting her tired eyes is relaxing enough.
And just as it does, in times like these, her mind drifts to Mike. Of what he might be doing at this very moment. She knows it's falling-down-a-rabbit-hole dangerous to even consider, and yet, with Shrimp actually here, he felt so much more real. And so much further away. Was he still in Canberra? She had no idea, really. The funeral was over, and surely Mike was back on his beloved ship, Maxine alone with a son to care for. And yet, sometimes she imagines him knocking on her door. It was pathetic, really. Still imagining a life together, after everything that had happened.
"I'm going around in circles, Shrimp." Kate murmurs, even though Shrimp is long since out of earshot. "Bloody endless circles."
She contemplates watching TV, or reading a book. Anything to distract her from the thoughts rushing through her tired brain. But she can't muster up the energy to move. Sighing heavily, she closes her eyes once, only to have them fly open as the phone rings. Kate jumps, pulling at her stitches again. For a moment, she feels as though her mere thinking of Mike must have reached him somehow, had made him call, and she stays, frozen, on the lounge, listening to the phone ring and ring. Answer, she tells herself, answer. But just as she stands, the phone clicks over to the answering machine, and Kate hears her own voice from a lifetime ago ring out in the quiet. "You've reached Kate McGregor. Leave a message."
Kate's heart is hammering in her chest and damn near close to exploding as she waits, sure that her thoughts of Mike have achieved some telekinetic heights and reached him. But then, someone speaks, so different from Mike's voice. "Oi, Princess, you there? I'm only in port for a few hours! Pick up! Hellloooooo. Put down the dictionary and answer me! Otherwise I'll leave Shrimp's touching lullaby here-"
Kate snatches up the phone and presses it to her ear. "Boxer!" She calls excitedly, relief flooding through her. Boxer wastes no time with preliminary greetings, however, instead launching straight into speech in his usual gung-ho way.
"Holy fucking shit, you had a baby!" Despite the fact that she has to pull the phone quickly from her ear in the interests of keeping her eardrum intact, she can't help but smile at his words. It was so him to curse at her the moment she picked up the phone, so different to everyone else's delicate words, and Kate laughs like she hasn't done in ages. Resting her weight against the countertop, she listens as he rambles on. "Only just got to port and was greeted with a million and one voicemails. Are you okay? Is Shrimp? Where are you? What's happening? Is Libby still there? The Olinskys? You haven't been checking your emails and I tried your mobile and it's off-"
"Box, give me a chance to think!" She cuts off his rambling litany of questions, wrapping a hand around her absent-mindedly. She still feels as though, at any moment, the stitches will fail, and her guts would spill onto the ground. And, at the same time, hollow and empty, missing something... someone that she can never feel inside her again. "I'm sorry! My phone battery died at the hospital. I forgot to charge it."
There's a moment silence. And then Boxer groans theatrically. "Oh, God, it's worse than we feared! She's losing her mind. Who are you and where the hell is Princess Perfect?" He tuts at her through the phone. "So, what happened? Tell me!" Kate snorts with laughter and recounts the story of Amaya's birth and her progress she'd made since her dramatic entrance into the world. When she's finished, Boxer gives a low whistle. "My princess had a princess. I mean, shit, Kate, I knew you were an over achiever, but cutting twenty-five percent off your gestation is a new record, even for you! Bet you were already rocking Mum jeans in the operating room." He sighs, and even though he's still projecting his voice in that melodramatic way, she can detect the sadness in amongst everything else. Regret, maybe, that he hadn't been here. She knows, of course, that he's trying his hardest to be strong for her.
"Oh, Box, she's gorgeous." There's a million and one things she wants to say to him. Since Libby's return and the shambles of everyday Mum life for Heidi, Kate misses just having the support of a friend around her. Someone to laugh and joke with. So many things she wants to say, and yet all that comes out is, "Box, I have a baby."
If someone had told her, a year ago, that she'd be speaking those words out into the universe, she might just have slugged them. But now... she doesn't think she's been as proud as this, and Boxer chuckles. "Mama McGregor." He laughs. "Ah, I miss you, Kiddo. I wish I was there."
"You will be. Soon."
They lapse into silence for a moment, both reflecting on the solitude and separation, that worst part of the RAN. But then, suddenly, he clears his throat, business-like again. "We-ell." He stretches the word into two syllables. "So, Shrimp's lullaby. Now, short on instruments here, but we'll make do."
"Oh, God..." Kate half laughs, half groans, as Boxer clears his throat and begins singing, ridiculously off key as usual.
"Your Mummy's name is Kate.
Said, "Shit, my period is late!
We thought she was free of sin,
but that whore fucked Flynn-"
Kate laughs so much, she fears she might just split her stitches. "Oww, don't make me laugh!" She gasps, cutting him off. "Do you take constructive criticism?"
"Hey, the cheek!" He protests back. "I've heard you do karaoke! You're not exactly going platinum. Besides, I thought the lyrics worked."
"You're an arsehole." She sniggers, raking a hand through her hair. "God, I miss you so much."
"It's because I'm irresistible." He quips back, then sighs. "I'll be back before you know it. I've got a niece to spoil."
"I'll hold you to that." She shudders to think what else he might dare to get printed on a onesie. "Now… go do some work, you slacker."
She's smiling as she hangs up the phone. His phone call, crass as it had been, had cheered her up immensely. He'd always been able to make her laugh.
She decides against lying on the lounge, thinking that, with memories of her conversation with Boxer in her mind, she might be able to sleep. She's just turning out the light, though, when the phone rings once more. Rolling her eyes, Kate picks it up, a cheeky smile across her face as she remembers how she'd given Box her new mobile number, and he'd called her every night for a month, pretending to be a salesman selling her increasingly ludicrous items. "Geez, miss me already? Haven't you got work to do?" When Boxer doesn't immediately respond, she frowns. "Hello?"
"Kate?" Just one syllable. One word. His voice. And all the breath is knocked out of her.
"Mike?" She whispers back.