Chapter 3:
"Morning." Nick nods at me as he enters the kitchen in his dressing gown, padding over to the cupboard where the cereal was kept. I flash him a smile as he sits down opposite me and I continue to munch on my toast, avoiding his gaze. "Feeling ok?"
"Fine." I nod, although part of me wishes I wasn't. We had been trying for a baby for four weeks now, and may I assure you, it was a shattering experience. I was beginning to feel like some sort of amusement park.
"I know what that means, remember?" He points out.
"No seriously, I'm ok, just... Tired." I shrug.
"I'm not surprised." He laughs, before coming over to me. He tilts my chin with his finger so that I look into his eyes. "You're not having second thoughts?"
"I think it might be a bit too late now... Well I wish it was." I force a smile. "But no, I'm just... Worried about... It's been four weeks."
"These things take time." He soothes, his eyes moving to my shiny hair which he runs his fingers through gently.
"I don't know it's just... When you don't want one... It's there and when you actually do they won't... It won't, work." I stutter.
"Ta very much." He shrugs and I give him a look.
"We all know you have no problem making babies Nicholas, you've done it enough times." I remind him and his face falls slightly. That was a stupid thing to say. "Sorry... Sorry that was horrible of me."
"It's ok." He shakes his head, squeezing my shoulder gently.
"But I mean... What I was trying to say is that... It's me, you know?" I sigh, but I could tell I was just confusing him further.
"You've been pregnant before." He virtually whispers it, afraid to bring the subject up.
"I know and look how that ended." I raise my voice slightly before getting up and heading over to the bathroom. I was going to snap at him if I didn't isolate myself and I didn't want to do that, it wasn't his fault.
"Carla come out." He knocks on the door softly and I jam my hands over my ears to try and block out the noise. "We can talk or just cuddle if you want?"
"I'm going in the shower." I lie, turning the water on and immediately progressing to root through the cupboards, grabbing one of the spare pregnancy tests we had bought a few weeks back.
Nick doesn't knock again, he leaves me. I knew he hadn't left the flat, but he had left me in peace and I knew why.
He knew exactly what I was doing.
He would be sat there on the sofa now, crossing his fingers and waiting for me to emerge.
But at least when the negative sign appears, it means I don't have to admit it to him.
And it does.
And it hurts again.
And I feel useless and empty.
And I slide down the wall, pulling my knees up to my chest, listening to the sound of the water hammer against the floor and think about my baby girl. I wanted a baby so badly now and yet I was prepared to get rid of her. But I never could have, I knew that once she was inside me, she was mine, mine to protect and mine to love. But she didn't realise that. Not soon enough. To be honest it was a blessing for her.
It's an hour before I finally open the door, slowly, peering out at Nick, who was sat in the arm chair, looking at me. He knew, else I wouldn't have spent an hour crying. The crying you could hear over the sound of the shower, working so hard to cover me.
"...I'm sorry about the water bill." I finally muster, clinging onto the bathroom door in case my legs gave way. He doesn't laugh, it wasn't the sort of joke you laugh at, it was the sort of joke you say so that you don't break down again. But I was, because as soon as I see Nick it all comes flooding back to me and I can't stay strong. Not when I'm doing this for the both of us.
"Come here." He stands up immediately, as I lean back against the door frame, aiming to sink towards the floor because I felt so weak. But he had pulled me into him and was rocking me gently. "I've got you, I'm here sweetheart... It's alright."
"I've never wanted anything as badly as... Our future." I cry into him, tears staining his shoulder. "Not Liam, not Peter. I just want her back... Nick, I want her to know how much I really loved her. I want to be a mother. I want to show my child what it means to be loved and accepted and appreciated. I just want this, I want us... Is that too much to ask? Even for me?"
"Of course it's not." Nick whispers into my hair, continuing to rock me for as long as he needed to. "You will Carla. I promise you, you will."
We spent the afternoon doing nothing. I was curled into Nick on the sofa, my fingers tracing over his scan picture that he had with Erica, whilst he told me stories about the plans he made as a dad. He cries, I cry. He laughs, I laugh. We were a ball of emotions today, but neither of us blamed one another.
He tells me stories of how he would lie awake, dreaming about the day he could lift his son or daughter onto his shoulders. Take them down to the beach and show them how to skim stones against the waves. Wipe the ice cream off their chin as they laugh against the salty air, as I wipe the tears from Nick's cheeks. He was not afraid to be weak in front of me. He was damaged, I was broken, but together we fixed each other.
And as intoxicating as it could be at times, it just made us even stronger.
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