With that, I forge ahead towards the checkout. We line up behind a woman trying to unpack her trolley with a baby in a carrier. She struggles to reach for a pack of baby wipes in the corner of her trolley.
‘Here, let me help you,’ I say, retrieving it for her.
‘Thanks,’ she says.
My eyes fall on the baby, who can’t be older than a few weeks. Paige and I both take in the infant’s tiny features, translucent eyelids, fuzzy facial hair, apricot-coloured cheeks and a hand-knitted beanie. Eventually, the mother catches us looking and smiles at us as if to say, Yes, I know, isn’t she perfect?
Paige and I exchange a glance, our eyes locking, saying everything our words can’t. We miss our son. We wish things didn’t have to be this way. Here we are, meeting in the middle, for one brief moment over this beautiful, healthy baby. And then, as quickly as it’s here, it’s gone. I rake a hand through my hair. ‘I need a coffee. I’ll meet you at the car,’ I say, excusing myself.
After I pose my question to Hope, there will be no taking the words back. And no matter how I try to justify it, it isn’t going to make me popular.
‘What are you really doing here, Nick?’ she asks as she opens the fridge. Hope’s tone is friendly but direct. I’ve been here for around ten minutes and the conversation hasn’t progressed from the weather, the news, Ollie’s sleeping habits and how well Melbourne City is doing. She takes two bottles of Coke out of the fridge and nudges the door closed with her leg before handing me one.
I twist the cap off the bottle. ‘There’s no easy way to ask you this. I want to know if…’ Hope keep her eyes trained on mine as I search for the words. ‘I want to know if there’s a way I can stop this from happening.’
‘Mmm.’ She nods for me to elaborate.
‘I need to know what legal avenues might be available to me.’ There it is. I’ve said it. It’s out in the open and there’s every chance Hope is going to tell me to leave.
‘Oh God. Nick, you can’t be serious.’ Hope twists the cap off her bottle and spins it around in her fingers before looking up at me again. ‘You really are serious, aren’t you?’
My jaw tightens. ‘I wish I wasn’t.’
‘Sit down, Nick,’ she says, moving a soft toy off the kitchen stool. ‘I’m a little rusty on things but here’s what I can tell you. According to the Family Law Act, a baby does not exist until it’s born.’
‘Right.’ I know this already, of course, but I let Hope continue.
‘So if you’re asking what I think you’re asking, you need to be totally aware that this could completely destroy everything you have with Paige. I mean, is that what you want? Is that what you’re willing to risk? Because when she finds out, and she will find out, there’s no turning back. This would be the ultimate betrayal.’
I know what’s at stake. Of course I know. I don’t want to do this. But I feel like I have no other choice. I rub my throbbing temples; the headache that started between my eyes this morning is making it hard to focus. ‘I’ve been turning it over and over in my mind, and at this point I need to know whether it’s possible. Is there anything I can do?’
‘This isn’t the kind of law I practise, Nick, you know that.’
‘Yes, but there’s a reason I came to you and didn’t go straight to a family lawyer.’
She nods. ‘I know. And I’m glad you came to me because someone else might take your money and not tell you that that he or she really loves Paige and does not want to see her suffer any more than she already has.’
She lets the words sit there, and they do exactly what she wants them to. They seep in, weighing on me. I am officially the world’s worst husband.
‘Technically, you have standing to make a claim. That would involve making an application to the Family Court to make a decision about the fate of the foetus,’ she continues.
‘So, what you’re saying is, it can be done?’
‘Well, it can, but you can’t take a step like that without giving it more serious consideration. This is your wife we’re talking about. And let’s not overlook the fact that she’s my best friend. Like I said, she will never forgive you if you go down this path.’
‘I know that.’ I’ve asked myself countless times whether I’m prepared to take this step. Whether losing Paige because of this is better than losing her all together. Will I hate myself for it? Probably. Will I hate myself if I do nothing and things go wrong? Definitely.
‘You also need to be realistic about this because your prospects would be uncertain in the legal environment. Not to mention costly.’
‘Money isn’t an issue.’
‘No, but your health and happiness are,’ she says. ‘At some point you need to let go and see how things land. And I know you, Nick. I know you don’t want to lose your wife like this.’
She’s right. I don’t. But the alternative is unfathomable. I spin my bottle round in circles. ‘Noted. But please tell me what I’d need to do if hypothetically I were to give this a try.’ Facts. I need facts.
She sits there chewing her lip in contemplation, and when I think she isn’t going to tell me, she gives a little shake of her head and starts talking. ‘For a start, you’d need independent evidence – medical evidence – to prove the risk to the mother’s life. Remember, the law doesn’t support your desire for your wife to have an abortion for medical reasons. It’s untested and, as far as I know, there are no precedents. You’d likely need to seek the advice of a family barrister before a lawyer would agree to act for you on something like this.’
‘Okay, anything else?’ I know I’m prodding now, but I need to know.
Hope lifts her hands up. ‘Conversation ends here. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.’
I nod, understanding. ‘Yes, of course.’
Hope looks me squarely in the eyes. ‘You put me in the middle here, and I don’t want to be in the middle. So I’ll give you a week to consider things. If you don’t tell her about this conversation or whatever intentions you might be having beyond this discussion by then, I will. And if she asks me anything, I won’t lie for you.’
‘Yes. Of course. That’s a fair call. Thank you.’
She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. ‘You are a good man. A really good man. And I understand where you’re coming from with this. But please, don’t prove yourself to be the kind of man we thought we knew but didn’t.’
I leave Hope’s place, walk down two blocks and into the first bar I can find. After my second Scotch, I look up the number for the closest family law firm to the hospital I can find: Jim Lawrence & Associates.
I drain my glass, motion to the barman for another, dial Jim’s office number and effectively wave my marriage goodbye.
Just checking in. Did you forget we were meeting up? Should I wait?
The following morning, I’m three kilometres away from home, jogging along the beach, when this text message pings on my phone. Miranda. If I don’t go home to shower and change out of my gym clothes, I can meet her in twenty minutes.