Cal struggled out of the tangle of sheets and went after her. It wasn't that he thought she was going to get in her car and take off. It was more about not going to sleep with this hanging over their heads. She wanted space. Space was going to kill them. Why couldn't Gillian see that? When had they stopped talking to each other? Oh yeah, Cal reminded himself. New York. Bloody New York. This was New York: Part 2: Nine Months Later: End Of Days. And was in some ways a bigger test than the first time around.
"Gillian come on," he said gently as he pushed open the spare bedroom door.
"Cal I'm serious."
"Tough shit," he used a forceful tone of voice. He closed the door behind him and crossed the room and sat on the end of the bed. "We have to talk. You have to tell me what's in your head cos I can't figa it out and I'm scared shitless that we've reached a point of no return." As if to emphasise his point, his stomach flipped over. It was pointless anxiety tactics, he all ready knew the point, he didn't need any more sick reminders.
"What do you want? A play by play?"
"No I want you to stop bein' so defensive. I'm not tryin' to have a go at you here I just need to know what you're thinkin'. I need to know that we're gonna be on the same side of the coin. That's when we're at our best Gill. Without that strength we're lost. You and me. It won't work. Do you get that?" he sounded as though he was about to cry. He just might. "This isn't about the baby or Lewis or anythin' else right now but you and me. United front. We have to have a united front or we're lost." He implored. He didn't know how else to beg her. Oh, ok, well actually, he did, he had a last resort. "I'm desperate. I fucked up and I'm sorry."
"You fucked up?" She was so surprised her voice rose sharply and trailed off abruptly.
"I fucked up," Cal nodded. "When you came to me years ago and you said you wanted to have a baby and I bailed on you. You have no idea how sorry I am that I did that. I want to take that back so desperately I would give anythin'. So I screwed up; we'll call that one insanity."
"Cal," Gillian tried to interject.
"No, let me finish," because it was starting to make sense in his head, what he wanted to say. It was just going to take a while to get there. He needed to lay the ground work so she would understand. He had to lay out his case so the jury could come to their own conclusion; hopefully it was the same as his conclusion... "All those years before Gillian, those stupid things I used to do. Before we were even datin'. You stuck by me. Through all of them. And afta we were married and I went to Africa. You were still there when I got back. Always. Unwaverin'. My rock," he gestured to his diaphragm, the very centre of his body.
"Cal," she tried again.
"Not finished," he cut her off. "What that was for me was love. Love and loyalty. You voiced your fears to me and I heard you and I did what I wanted to anyway and you were still there for me when I got back. I knew you would be. You neva held it against me. You respected that it was somethin' I needed to do and..." he paused. He edged a little closer to where she was sitting, resting against the head of the bed, her knees drawn up like a barrier. "You got me. You've always 'got' me."
Cal paused because it sounded a bit like she had sobbed. But he couldn't be sure. "I've been so very good at talkin' the talk but not walkin' the walk. I can tell you how much I love you and all that and I mean that of course, but you were loyal to me when it didn't warrant it. And when I was actin' insanely you forgave me for it instantly." He dared to edge a little closer. "What I want to say is, New York was insane and I haven't done a very good job of forgettin' about it. I can't treat these two instances separately. And I should be because New York was months and months ago and I know you're not gonna do that anymore."
Gillian wiped her cheek suddenly and confirmed for Cal that she was crying. "I don't even think about when we broke up anymore."
Cal edged closer. "Exactly my point! Forgive and forget. I've always had a hard time with that. But you made me see that with my mum and late-a my dad and even with Zoe."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm sayin' I've been pig-headed. I've been stupid. This is a chance for you to be happy and I should do a backward flip with joy and enthusiasm and instead I'm thinkin' about how this is gonna affect me."
Silence. Didn't mean she didn't agree. But nor was she disagreeing. Maybe she needed more convincing.
"I wouldn't be a good husband or friend to you if I didn't call you on your shit. I need to be able to tell you when you step ova that line. And I need you to listen to me when I do call it. But at the same time I'm not bein' a good husband if I don't support you through the things you want to do. We always do the things I want to do."
"Cal," she reached out for him and he was close enough now that he could take her hand easily. This room was lighter because it was in the front of the house and the street light lit it up. He couldn't see every detail of her face, but he could see enough now to know that she was looking right at him and that she was wiping her cheeks because tears were clearly falling.
"Can I talk now?"
"All right," Cal agreed in a whisper.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made you feel that way."
"I..."
"No. You shut up. Now I talk."
Cal sat back slightly.
"I have never been able to express to you, or anyone, how I feel about this subject. I just know inside me that this is what I want. I can't even comprehend not giving this a try, not walking down that path to use your analogy. But the thing is, I know I can't do this without you either." Her hand tightened against his. "I need you. I want you to be on board with me on this. Same side of the coin. It hurts me that you won't be here too." She released a deep breath. Cal realised that was what she couldn't talk to him about, what she couldn't tell him. That he was hurting her. God, he was hurting her.
"Why do you feel like you can't talk to me? Am I not approachable?"
"It's not that." She hesitated again, wiped her cheeks again. Cal's heart trembled. He wanted to comfort her. But perhaps all the comforting had actually done them damage somehow?
"It's like; I stopped pushing for the sake of our marriage. You've always been in your head and I've always known that about you but before, when we were just friends, there were no boundaries on how far I could push you because we had a business and you respected me as a friend. It didn't mean that I was always right but I knew you always thought about what I had to say. And you pushed me right on back. All the time. And then we got married and it all changed. We stopped arguing. Did you notice that?"
Cal nodded. He thought that meant they were in sync, but maybe, now, he wasn't so sure.
"I have no idea what that means. I thought it meant we were in sync, on the same page, but maybe it meant we stopped voicing our opinions because we were afraid the other would just pack up and leave."
OK that's just freaky.
"The circumstances didn't help," Cal pointed out.
"Wha?" Gillian started.
"Miscarriage, IVF, Mitchell, Lewis..."
Gillian nodded. "Right." She released another deep breath. "We've been through a lot together."
It was hard to tell if she was musing or realising or telling him.
"That has to count for somethin' right? All of that and we haven't fallen apart completely?"
"It absolutely does."
Cal felt a little glimmer of respite. And something else. What was it? Oh yeah, hope.
"We're not communicating properly," Gillian supplied.
"Right," Cal agreed. Surely the problem wasn't so easily solved? He was hurting her. God, really? He was hurting her? He was such a bastard sometimes. "I'm sorry luv. You're right. I should be supportin' you through the things that you want to do; that you need to do. You want to know if I'm in? Of course I'm in. But just please don't leave me behind."
Gillian tugged on his hand and lowered her knees and pulled Cal into an almost awkward hug. He was half in her lap and half on the bed and trying not to rest the weight of his head on her chest and then he realised that what he was doing was resisting her. He relaxed. He pressed his body into hers and let her cradle him.
"I know you know you were being silly and trying to make light of the seriousness of it all, but that pinky promise, I meant that," Gillian told him as she soothed his hair. Cal could hear her heart beating in her chest and he let it ground him. He had been trying so hard to be perfect, to be the best for her that he wasn't going about it in a healthy way.
"Why did you stop callin' me on my shit?" Cal asked her softly. He wanted to suggest they get up and go back to their bed. Sitting in this room was strange and he didn't like it. But he also didn't want to break the moment.
"It became that I didn't need to."
"Surely I do stuff that pisses you off?"
"Sometimes. But then you've always known that you piss me off and since we got married, you rectified it."
Cal was still for a moment. When he breathed he couldn't hear her heart beating. He had to be silent to hear her speaking to him.
"For example," she continued. "When you throw your washing into the bathroom at the end of the day, instead of putting it in the hamper directly. That drives me insane. I could nag you about it, but I also know that the next morning you go and pick it all up anyway, before I have to, so what would be the point? I don't want to be a nag. So I don't say anything. You don't want me to nag. So you pick it up without me having to say anything."
"Right," Cal agreed. That was actually true, and it made him feel a little funny that she had worked that out. It shouldn't, but it did. It made him feel good. "Does that mean I need to do stuff around the house that pisses you right off so we can have a fight about it?"
Gillian gave a slight laugh. A very, very, slight, slight laugh. A laugh nonetheless. They had turned the corner in this conversation at least.
"Maybe we need to fight more, or bicka, or just release that tension. Maybe it's not always good for us to be pleasant all the time."
"All the time?" Gillian teased.
Cal gave a slight smile. A very, very, slight, slight smile but a smile nonetheless.
"Honestly? I like that we don't fight or bicker over every little thing. A marriage is too hard that way."
"Hm," Cal agreed. "I do like that too."
"I thought it was a good thing."
"I'll drink to that."
Gillian's fingers combed through his hair.
"I don't know what to do," Cal admitted.
"Me either."
Cal breathed gently, listening to the steady thump of her heart beat. "You know I really mean it when I say that I love you, that I'm in love with you."
"I know. And I mean that too."
"I want to have a baby with you Gillian. I want to add to our family."
She leaned down and kissed the top of his head.
"So I'm in and we will do this and we will do it togetha and it will be fantastic."
Gillian's arms tightened around him slightly.
"Whetha it's easy or not."
"Ok," she whispered. "Thank you."
"I'm sorry for bein' a selfish bastard."
"You're not," Gillian told him. "You're really not. That's not what this is about."
"What is it about then?"
"Different things."
"I don't listen?"
"No, you do listen. I guess I just haven't been talking."
"You can't talk to me?"
"I haven't had to before," Gillian repeated.
Cal felt that one like a heavy weight on his chest. There was truth to that too. Because when she miscarried he knew what she felt and when they'd gone through IVF he'd known what she felt too and she'd never had to voice it. When he'd been abducted they dealt with it together. When Lewis was born they were there together. Things started to fall apart over issues Cal couldn't understand and that Gillian didn't talk to him about.
"Can we go back to bed now?"
"Yes," Gillian agreed.
It wasn't magically fixed but they were on their way to resolving it. That was the first step to take.