‘We’ll find a way to become parents, I promise you.’
‘But are you even prepared to wait two, three, five more years for me to get better? At what point do we call it a day and stop waiting?’ She tucks the book under her arm and picks up another.
‘We decide together.’
She starts walking to the counter.
‘You’re actually buying that?’ I ask.
‘Yes, haven’t you always wondered how to make sauerkraut?’
She pays for the book, and when we reach the next street corner she comes to a stop. We stand there, under the street light, while a small group of people wait for the lights to turn green, the cadence of laughter streaming behind them as they cross the road.
‘Would we want the same things if I can’t do it, Nick? I mean, what are the options? Adoption takes forever so we can pretty much rule that out. How would you feel about something like… surrogacy? Are you even going to want this? What if we can’t find a surrogate? What happens then?’
I squeeze her hand. ‘Shhh…’ I whisper. ‘Let me answer you. When I held Max in my arms, I realised that I wanted nothing more than to become a father. So, as far as options go…’ I pause, choosing my words carefully. ‘I’m definitely open to surrogacy. However…’ How to tell Paige something she doesn’t want to hear? I can’t bear to deliver another blow but I need to be honest with her. She deserves this.
‘What?’ she asks, searching my eyes.
‘There’s some information out there that indicates that the precipitating factor for PPCM can be transferred from the biological mother to the surrogate, so—’
‘So I wouldn’t be able to use an egg?’ Her eyes widen. She shakes her head in disbelief. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispers.
‘I’m not saying that,’ I say, quick to stop her jumping on the worst-case-scenario train. ‘I’m trying to explain—’
‘Oh God, this wasn’t a good idea.’ She wriggles her hand away from mine and slams her palm against the pedestrian crossing button.
‘It’s not an absolute,’ I point out. My words come out strained. I’m doing a terrible job of reassuring her.
‘Right, but I wasn’t expecting to learn that the next best thing might not even be a possibility for us!’ She starts crossing the road, despite the little red man, and stops on the island.
‘We’ll find a way to become parents. Why don’t we give this another six months and see how things turn out, okay? You never know what your next echo will show.’ I make it sound so easy, so hopeful, when I know that all she can think of right now is the fact she might not ever be able to have a baby, and Caitlin – with timing that could not be worse – is pregnant. It’s just one more blow.
Paige forges ahead, crossing the street at a much faster pace than usual. I dump the popcorn I’ve been carrying all this time into the closest street bin and take her by the hand.
‘She always gets what she wants,’ she murmurs. ‘Always.’
‘She didn’t do this to spite you.’
‘Either way, I can’t be around her right now, Nick. It’s too awkward and I don’t like the way it makes me feel. Trust me, it’s better for everyone if I keep my distance.’
‘She’s your sister, you can hardly avoid her.’
‘Actually,’ she says, ‘I can.’
And that’s when I start to worry. The last thing Paige needs right now is for her family to fall apart too.
Seventeen
Paige
Despite the fact I said I wouldn’t do it, I am here on Caitlin’s doorstep to babysit her kids. Both Ella and Ethan rush towards me like a tsunami to say hello, all flailing legs and happy grins.
‘Uncle Nick will be here soon. He’s at the supermarket picking up the ingredients for your favourite dinner.’ I pinch Ella’s nose and tickle Ethan under the chin.
‘Tacos!’ they say in unison before retreating back to the living room.
As soon as Caitlin and I step into the kitchen, I can immediately tell something is off. Her enormous stone sink is filled with unwashed dishes, and the kids are sitting in front of the television watching cartoons at six o’clock. The strict cut-off is usually five thirty.
‘Thanks so much for coming. I was going to call a sitter if you couldn’t make it.’ She starts rummaging through her handbag. This is a lie. Caitlin never employs sitters. Not since the Norwegian au pair she hired when Ella was three. Astrid, the petite young blonde who smuggled her American backpacker boyfriend into her bedroom one night and forgot to turn the gas burner off when Ella jammed her pinkie in the kitchen cupboard door, had been the first and the last. ‘Where’d I put my phone?’
I spot a phone near the fish bowl on the counter. ‘This it?’ I say, holding it up.
Caitlin snatches it from me. ‘Oh, thank you.’
‘What’s wrong?’
She straightens up and tilts her head. ‘Nothing.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Puh-lease.’ I motion to the sink and then turn around and point to the cartoons.
‘I’ve been busy, okay? Mark’s been working long hours fixing up the cottage since it was supposed to be finished months ago, and I’ve been feeling tired and I didn’t get a chance to do the dishes.’ If this is an attempt to make me feel sorry for her, it isn’t working. Nope, not a bit.
‘Or the vacuuming,’ I say, as I hear the crunch of cracker biscuits on the glazed ceramic tile floor. ‘Which would be normal for someone like me. But since it’s you and you live a much more orderly and perfect life than me, I call a problem.’
Caitlin holds up a hand for me to stop. ‘Paige, there is no problem. But is everything okay with you?’
I won’t let her turn it around and make it about me. Caitlin’s always been good at that.
‘Never been better.’
‘Good because I was worried this might—’ she pauses before settling on a word ‘—change things between us.’
‘No, I can handle it.’
Of course, this is not how I feel at all. I can barely stand to be around my sister right now, but I can’t exactly say that. What kind of person would that make me? Sorry, but you’re pregnant and I’m not, so we can’t be sisters any more?
‘Okay, good. Because if you don’t want me to talk about the pregnancy, I can keep the updates and news to myself.’ She says this as she takes an ultrasound image off her fridge door and shoves it in her pocket. I save her the effort and pass her the bottle of pregnancy vitamins from the bench. ‘Here. These belong in your pristine bathroom.’
‘Paige.’ Her voice leaks disappointment.
‘Just helping you tidy up.’
Thankfully, she lets it go. I’m pretty sure neither of us is in the mood for this. ‘So where are you going?’ I ask coolly as I search the kitchen cupboard for a dish sponge.
‘Jesus, look who inherited all Mum’s sleuthing genes.’ She checks her watch. ‘I really need to go. I’ll be back before midnight. Sponges are on the left in the labelled container. Blue Chux for dishes, green for surfaces.’