‘We’ll know tomorrow.’ I was thinking of the appointment again with the fertility specialist.
‘I’m so scared.’
‘Anna, I—’
‘Shh.’ She unclipped her seatbelt and awkwardly climbed over the centre console, onto my lap. She kissed me. I held her face between my hands and kissed her back, hard. She undid my belt. I lifted my hips to slide my jeans down before I unbuttoned her shirt, running my hands up her thighs, under her skirt. My fingers feeling how much she wanted me.
This. This was what I had longed for.
Feeling desired. Needed. Feeling the way we used to feel before we relied on an app to tell us when we should touch each other.
This was what I had missed.
Her.
Us.
It was four o’clock in the afternoon and my mouth still tasted like something had died in it. Our appointment was in fifteen minutes. Anna should be here by now. Her school day finished at three.
Where was she?
I checked my phone again but she hadn’t messaged. Another five minutes passed and I was wondering whether I should book us in when I saw her running towards me.
‘Are you—’
‘Let’s get inside,’ she said breathlessly.
We told the receptionist we were here and were told to wait on hard grey chairs that matched the grey walls and the grey floor. It looked like the place dreams came to die.
‘Good day?’ I wanted to distract Anna from her thoughts. I wanted to distract myself from my thoughts.
‘Not really.’ She tucked a curl behind her ears. ‘You know I was worried about Jemma?’
‘Yes.’ Jemma was one of Anna’s Year Eleven pupils. Anna had noticed she’d become withdrawn and was worried she might be being bullied.
‘She asked to see me after school today, that’s why I was late. She’s pregnant.’
‘Oh, Anna.’
‘She wants me to help her arrange a termination.’ Her voice was flat, emotionless, but I knew how twisted up inside she was.
‘Mr and Mrs Curtis?’ We were summoned into a room.
We sat down. Anna’s hand slipped inside mine.
‘Hello,’ said Dr Bowman. ‘I have the results of your laparoscopy, Anna. We suspected from your heavy periods and the pain you experience that your failure to conceive—’
‘Failure?’ I couldn’t help blurting out as Anna’s fingers tightened around mine.
‘Sorry. Lack of success conceiving over the past eighteen months might be due to endometriosis and the results confirm that it is. Do you both understand what endometriosis is?’ He paused.
‘Yes,’ said Anna at the same time I said ‘kind of’.
‘It’s when the lining of the uterus – the endometrium – grows elsewhere, such as in the fallopian tubes or ovaries. The lining breaks down but, unlike the cells in the womb that leave the body as a period, it has nowhere to go.’
‘And this has prevented Anna falling pregnant?’
‘Not necessarily, but it could well have contributed towards her fail… lack of pregnancy. Sometimes with endometriosis there is a build-up of adhesions that can trap the egg and prevent it from moving down the fallopian tube.’
I glanced at Anna. Her face was as white as chalk. I could see that if she spoke, she would cry.
‘So is there anything we can do?’ I asked.
‘Surgery to remove the adhesions would certainly increase the chance of conception. There are no guarantees, of course. Anna has age on her side and may well conceive naturally.’
‘We…’ Anna took a deep breath. ‘We want the surgery.’
‘The surgery can cause further problems: infections, bleeding, damage to affected organs.’
‘We want the surgery,’ Anna repeated.
At home, I tucked Anna under a blanket on the sofa and made her a hot chocolate. It sat untouched on the coffee table, melting cream streaking down the mug onto the glass.
I lifted the blanket and slipped under it.
‘Anna—’
‘Don’t,’ she said quietly. ‘Just don’t.’
‘This isn’t your fault, you know.’ I felt helpless knowing how wretched she must feel inside. If it were the other way round, I know that rightly or wrongly, I would feel to blame.
‘I can’t talk about it. Not yet. Please don’t make me.’
At a loss to know what else to do, I reached into my pocket and pulled out her grandad’s coin. She took it gratefully, curling her hand around it.
I had thought, at that time, we would be okay. It was comforting to think that we had a good support network around us, but I didn’t know then that our network would crumble.
I didn’t know then what was to come the following day.
Chapter Fifteen
Anna
It was a sleepless night. In bed, I placed my hands over my lower abdomen and imagined the adhesions forming under my skin. The adhesions that were preventing me from falling pregnant. Next to me, Adam slept and I hated him for not being awake. Didn’t he care? I glared at him through the gloom until my eyes filled with tears.
Of course he cared.
I knew that undoubtedly. He would never blame me, and yet I felt I was to blame. My stupid, faulty body was to blame.
Tears of self-pity flowed and I let them, turning my face into the pillow, the foam absorbing my sorrow. I was scared. Scared of the surgery. Scared it wouldn’t work. Scared Adam would leave me for someone who could conceive. Every single potential problem I could think of loomed out of the dark.
By the time the grey sludge of dawn lightened the sky, I had vowed that I would not let this come between me and Adam. I wouldn’t let it become the focus of us. I wouldn’t let my endless fears become his fears. He was my glass-half-full optimist and I needed him to stay that way.
I wanted to talk to someone though. It wouldn’t be fair to burden Mum. We hadn’t even told her we were trying – not wanting that ‘Am I going to be a grandma?’ question every month. We thought it would be a nice surprise for her when it happened. I was glad she didn’t know.
Quietly, I dressed. Pulling on track pants and lacing my trainers. The cold air filled my lungs and I ran and ran until I found myself on Nell’s doorstep. Here I could cry unfiltered, lay out all of my doubts before her, knowing she would listen without judgement, without trying to fix it. Fix me.
It was Chris who answered. Bare-chested, black joggers hanging low on his waist.
‘Anna.’ He stifled a yawn with his hand. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes. Sorry it’s early.’ Stupidly, I hadn’t thought that he might be here. ‘Is Nell awake?’
‘She probably is now,’ he said, but not unkindly. ‘Come in.’
I followed him into the kitchen. The sink was piled with washing-up, most likely from Nell’s housemates. She rarely cooked. Still, she’d be moving into Chris’s house soon enough.
‘Congratulations, by the way,’ I said as he filled the kettle. ‘It’s great news.’
‘Thanks.’ He turned to me with the biggest grin on his face. ‘I can hardly believe it – me a dad!’
It was a punch to the gut. I sank onto the kitchen chair while Chris carried on talking. ‘I know it wasn’t planned but Nell will make the best mum, don’t you think?’