I should have been more careful. We should have been more careful.
‘So, tell me then – how does this happen?’ I ask, this time trying to sound a bit calmer, though I am anything but.
‘Gee, Nick, all those years of medical school never taught you anything, did they?’
One more block and we’ll be ready to pull into our driveway. All I want is to get out of the car so we can give each other some space to calm down.
I sigh. ‘Legit question.’
Paige crosses her arms and squirms in her seat. She squeezes her eyes closed and then opens them. ‘It was our second-to-last night in Tasmania – the one where we opened up the hundred-and-twenty-five-dollar bottle of sparkling rosé.’
I know the one. She argued that it was ridiculous to spend that kind of money on a bottle, even if it was French and vintage and a rare treat. According to Hope, you could provide enough life-saving peanut paste to a child in East Africa for three months with that kind of money, and she made sure I knew it.
‘Well?’ I prompt.
‘I must have made a mistake. When we were travelling I think I forgot to—’
‘You forgot?’
‘The oysters. The Bollinger. We’d been out all day and I had a glass more than I should have and I think I must have forgotten to take it…’
I inch slowly up the driveway, leaving the ignition on as we continue sparring in the dim light.
My chest flickers with anger, heat pricking my cheeks. ‘You forgot that accidentally falling pregnant could threaten your life?’
‘You know what? I’m not having this conversation with you right now! You know I hardly ever drink and I have spent months measuring out every ounce of liquid I consume! I take the pill every night at the same time. We were busy that night, Nick. We were busy doing other things. I had a moment. For the first time in months, I let myself forget about everything else, and I got the days and dates mixed up. We were on holiday!’
‘Okay. Okay.’ I turn the ignition off and sit idly in my seat.
‘Please don’t make me feel worse about it than I already do. Blaming me isn’t—’
‘I’m not. But I don’t think you realise what kind of situation we’re in now.’ I blow out a measured breath.
‘Of course I realise! What do you think I am?’ She unbuckles her seat belt and pushes the car door open. ‘I’m finding you a little condescending right now. Listen to yourself.’ She shuffles out of her seat and snatches up her handbag.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—’
Paige slams the car door closed and storms inside.
And then I put the car into reverse and back out of the driveway without her.
How long does it take to cool down after your wife springs her life-threatening pregnancy on you at a family barbecue? Obviously a fourteen-hour shift plus a side trip to the local pub isn’t enough. I head straight into the bedroom and into the en-suite, where I turn on the shower and start peeling off layers of clothes, tossing them onto the floor – Paige’s pet hate. I haven’t spoken to her at all today, despite a string of text messages from her I couldn’t bring myself to respond to.
‘Hey,’ she says, stepping into the room. ‘I left you some dinner. I made coq au vin – and for dessert, baked Alaska.’
No, she didn’t.
‘Okay, fine. Pre-prepared chicken skewers and frozen veggies. Coq au vin is overrated.’ She waits to see where her joke lands but I don’t take the line like I usually would. I can’t even look her in the eyes.
‘Nick,’ she says, her shoulders sagging. ‘Please say something. I feel really terrible about this.’ She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, waiting for me to speak.
‘Why didn’t you let me know so we could take other precautions?’
‘Oh, come on. What am I? On the stand now?’
The stand? She’s pregnant and this is possibly the most terrible thing that could happen to us, not that I ever thought that would be possible after losing Max, but it is. Here we are.
‘What? No, you’re not on the stand,’ I reply. ‘I thought you wanted to talk about this.’
‘But you’re asking me why I didn’t let you know we should have taken other precautions,’ she says, her voice even.
‘Well, why didn’t you?’ It’s a fair question but I’ll admit it comes out a bit accusatory and, judging from Paige’s expression, she’s noticed.
‘Maybe I would have if I actually remembered that I forgot to take the pill.’
Jesus.
‘My bad.’
‘Your bad? That’s all you have to say? Your bad. As if this is a carton of spilt milk or you forgot to pay a bill.’
‘Well, I’m sorry if I’m not so perfect like you, Dr Bellbrae, who thinks everybody should be as perfect as he is! Let’s not forget that I didn’t do this alone and you could have checked or reminded me! Besides, the pill isn’t 100 per cent effective and we both know that.’
‘Especially if you forget to take it,’ I mutter as I concentrate on unfastening my watch.
‘Where’d you go, anyway? Your clothes smell like smoke so I’m guessing you didn’t come home straight from work.’ She picks up my jacket and brings it to her nose. Yep, it smells like a dirty ashtray.
‘George and Johnny’s. I was with Ben.’ I grab my toothbrush. I haven’t smoked a cigarette since my first year of university.
‘Oka-ay,’ she says.
I know why she sounds surprised. We haven’t been there in years. In fact, nobody our age seems to go to George and Johnny’s any more.
‘How much have you had to drink?’
‘I only had a couple of beers and I took an Uber home. Don’t worry, I’m not that irresponsible.’
I know I’ve gone too far when Paige gathers up the pile of clothes and thrusts them in my direction. ‘These go in the wash basket. It’s disrespectful to leave them for me to tidy up! And once you’re done with the shower, for the love of God and all things holy, hang up the bath mat to dry!’
She stomps out of the room and calls out, ‘And speaking of irresponsible, the water storage levels in this city are only sixty-two per cent and the shower’s running!’
I stand there wearing only my underwear, with a pile of dirty clothes in my arms and nothing left to say.
Twenty-Six
Paige
The next morning I wake up to Piper’s doggy kisses in bed. Nick has left for work early without waking me, and I’m counting the hours until he’ll be home again so we can talk about things. I take my meds, throw on a pair of grey yoga leggings and my favourite black T-shirt, and take Piper for a walk, stopping only when I reach Hope’s doorstep, hoping she’ll be home. Her house, four blocks away from mine, is a semi-detached Edwardian that she and Paul renovated four years earlier and only managed to finish six months ago. She still jokes that it almost ruined their marriage.
Paul opens the front door, his large frame towering over me. He’s sporting a blue football jersey with a black nylon jacket and a pair of black shorts. Around his neck is a lanyard. Paul, an avid lover of football, studied sport science at university and now works for Football Victoria as a sport trainer.