MONTH FIVE

(EMOTIONS)

Chris was dead.

The rumour going around school was that Charlotte had held him down in the bath and drowned him. Who knew if it was true, probably not, but it gave people something to talk about. Talking was always good, except that Charlotte was doing barely any of it. I'd pass her in the hall between classes, but she'd just drift by unaware of her surroundings but not unaware of what people were saying about her.

Threatening letters were left inside of her locker regarding the rumour that she had killed her own baby. Food was thrown at her during lunch and obscene phrases and cute little poems were written in toilet cubicles. Charlotte the Ciller. Obviously some people still couldn't spell.

And so with the death of Chris came the re-appearance of his father for a brief period of time.

He was cute, he was mourning and he was David. We shagged in the backseat of his car before he broke down and cried in my arms.

David stayed for the funeral and left shortly after. He left with a quiet goodbye, never looking at Charlotte and never asking me for another root.

A week went by but Charlotte didn't bother to turn up to Young Mothers. For a few days I didn't drink, I didn't smoke, I didn't do anything. I just sat there and waited for Charlotte to walk through the door, but she never did.

I went through the room, looking for something to read or do while I waited. I searched the few cupboards in the room and the teacher's desk. Inside the top draw of the desk I found Chris' blue pacifier. For a moment I just looked at it oddly. It was only made of plastic, so why was it bringing tears to my eyes? Why did this stupid dummy make me feel so sad?

After that day I took the binkie with me everywhere. I kept in the pocket of my pants until I found Charlotte. She sat in the shade of a Willow tree facing towards the car park. Her chin was on her knees, her hands wrapped around her legs.

I approached her and put Chris' pacifier down besides her feet. A moment passed between us before Charlotte looked up at me and into my eyes. She had been crying recently. The tears had not long been cleared from her face but her eyes were still damn and red, her skin still pink and puffy.

Then she finally spoke to me. Her words were cold and harsh as they cut through me. At first I couldn't string all of her words together; I only understood them as singular words. The look in my eyes told her that, so she started again.

"It's not fair that you trash your body and get to keep your baby. It's just not fair. You walk around destroying your unborn baby with liquor, cigarettes and drugs and you don't care about it. You don't care about the outcome or the impact of what you're doing to either you or your baby. You just don't care. And yet for some reason...for some unexplainable reason, God thinks you will be a better mother than I was. I wasn't good enough for my Christopher so he took him away from me. I know now that I wasn't good enough. If I only hadn't turned my back on him for those few minutes he would still be alive. "

There was a slight pause in time as I thought if I should dare to ask a grieving mother the most difficult question there was to be asked. "So you didn't kill him then?"

"Of course I didn't kill him Abbey! Do you have any idea just how insensitive that sounds? You're just like everyone else at this stupid private school, if not worse!"

"...I slept with David"

"What the hell Abbey, what in the fucking hell is that all about?! Oh yeah, I just lost my baby and now you go and tell me that you slept with Christopher's father. Just what is your problem Abbey? Are you that bored with your own life that you need to destroy everything around you for a little amusement? When God allowed you to keep your baby and take mine from me he made a grave mistake. All you do is pollute your body and take everything for granted. You're rich so you don't need to care about anything or anyone. Money fixes everything for you, huh? Now I would never wish anything harmful against your baby, but I do wish you could only see what you're doing to the both of you"

I was getting bored again when I turned my back on Charlotte. But this new panging feeling in my chest wouldn't leave me alone. Was I starting to feel bad about my choices in life? Nah.