perfectly sane. I know how babies are made, I know how condoms
work, and I know that you are on the pill; if you have managed to
get yourself pregnant you must have done something wrong,
deliberately or otherwise.” He unfolded his arms and reached for
the wine glass, drinking half the contents in a long angry
gulp.
“Condoms aren’t infallible you
know, and I’ve been on antibiotics.” She couldn’t believe she
needed to explain such stupid details, as if she were some employee
discussing who was to blame for a lost deal. “It was an accident.”
Helen inhaled deeply trying to
control her rising anger. She had known he wasn’t going to be
thrilled, but they were getting married for goodness’ sake,
it wasn’t like she was some barmaid he’d slept with who’d turned up
on his doorstep claiming paternity.
The wine seemed to calm him;
his face lost some of the livid hue and his voice returned to its
normal volume.
“Well, however it happened, it
must be dealt with.” He was all practical now, as if someone at
work had presented him with a technical error that needed
fixing.
“I assume you will book into a
clinic, get it sorted. You’d best be quick about it, the wedding
isn’t far away and you need to fit into that dress.”
Helen stared at Daniel
wondering whether he was drunk, though he’d only had half a glass.
His words made no sense to her. They were getting married. She didn’t believe in abortion anyway, not if you were over
eighteen and healthy. But she wasn’t some unfortunate teenager; she
was in her twenties, with a home and a husband-to-be.
A baby should be welcome in
this house, not be seen as a problem to be dealt with.
“Daniel we're getting married
in a few weeks. I'm at home all day with nothing to do but manage
your diary and cook for your dinner parties. Having a baby does
seem an obvious next step.” She tried to keep her voice low and
level.
“So that's what this is about.”
His face twisted, marring his handsome features with a sneer. “You
resent me for asking you to leave your banal job to manage my
social functions, which, you know, are an essential part of my
career and for which I pay you a generous salary. Most women would
relish having time to go to the gym, shop, paint their nails.” The
beetroot hue began to seep back into his cheeks. “I have given you everything and this is the thanks I get?” He folded his arms
again, tightly, as if restraining himself.
Helen felt glad that the
breakfast bar was between them.
“I keep telling you I didn't
plan to get pregnant, it was an accident. Besides,” she paused,
registering the rest of his words, “it was not a crap job; I was a
very good executive assistant as well you know. And I hate having
nothing to do that's for me .” The whining tone in her voice
annoyed her.
Daniel immediately picked up on
it. “It's all about you isn't it Helen? I would have thought
you have enough on your hands planning the wedding.”
“What is there to do?” She
stopped, dropped her voice. There’s no point getting angry with
him or trying to out-argue him, she thought. He does it all
day long for a living; for fun.
“I love you,” she said softly
instead and the words calmed her, reminded her of what was
important. “I am carrying your child, doesn’t that mean
anything?”
She could see in his face that
it didn’t. Helen’s thoughts became clear, as if seen through the
lens of her camera. Daniel’s opposition solidified in her own mind
how she felt.
I want this baby. It
terrifies me, but there is no question of not having it, loving
it. As the idea grew another thought emerged. I love this
unknown bundle of tiny cells as much as I love him. She looked
at Daniel, his face implacable but still the face she knew and
loved so dearly.
Still, I think maybe I love
the baby more. What does that mean? Surely it isn’t possible to
love someone more than him? Daniel, who gives my days purpose and
fills my nights with
work, and I know that you are on the pill; if you have managed to
get yourself pregnant you must have done something wrong,
deliberately or otherwise.” He unfolded his arms and reached for
the wine glass, drinking half the contents in a long angry
gulp.
“Condoms aren’t infallible you
know, and I’ve been on antibiotics.” She couldn’t believe she
needed to explain such stupid details, as if she were some employee
discussing who was to blame for a lost deal. “It was an accident.”
Helen inhaled deeply trying to
control her rising anger. She had known he wasn’t going to be
thrilled, but they were getting married for goodness’ sake,
it wasn’t like she was some barmaid he’d slept with who’d turned up
on his doorstep claiming paternity.
The wine seemed to calm him;
his face lost some of the livid hue and his voice returned to its
normal volume.
“Well, however it happened, it
must be dealt with.” He was all practical now, as if someone at
work had presented him with a technical error that needed
fixing.
“I assume you will book into a
clinic, get it sorted. You’d best be quick about it, the wedding
isn’t far away and you need to fit into that dress.”
Helen stared at Daniel
wondering whether he was drunk, though he’d only had half a glass.
His words made no sense to her. They were getting married. She didn’t believe in abortion anyway, not if you were over
eighteen and healthy. But she wasn’t some unfortunate teenager; she
was in her twenties, with a home and a husband-to-be.
A baby should be welcome in
this house, not be seen as a problem to be dealt with.
“Daniel we're getting married
in a few weeks. I'm at home all day with nothing to do but manage
your diary and cook for your dinner parties. Having a baby does
seem an obvious next step.” She tried to keep her voice low and
level.
“So that's what this is about.”
His face twisted, marring his handsome features with a sneer. “You
resent me for asking you to leave your banal job to manage my
social functions, which, you know, are an essential part of my
career and for which I pay you a generous salary. Most women would
relish having time to go to the gym, shop, paint their nails.” The
beetroot hue began to seep back into his cheeks. “I have given you everything and this is the thanks I get?” He folded his arms
again, tightly, as if restraining himself.
Helen felt glad that the
breakfast bar was between them.
“I keep telling you I didn't
plan to get pregnant, it was an accident. Besides,” she paused,
registering the rest of his words, “it was not a crap job; I was a
very good executive assistant as well you know. And I hate having
nothing to do that's for me .” The whining tone in her voice
annoyed her.
Daniel immediately picked up on
it. “It's all about you isn't it Helen? I would have thought
you have enough on your hands planning the wedding.”
“What is there to do?” She
stopped, dropped her voice. There’s no point getting angry with
him or trying to out-argue him, she thought. He does it all
day long for a living; for fun.
“I love you,” she said softly
instead and the words calmed her, reminded her of what was
important. “I am carrying your child, doesn’t that mean
anything?”
She could see in his face that
it didn’t. Helen’s thoughts became clear, as if seen through the
lens of her camera. Daniel’s opposition solidified in her own mind
how she felt.
I want this baby. It
terrifies me, but there is no question of not having it, loving
it. As the idea grew another thought emerged. I love this
unknown bundle of tiny cells as much as I love him. She looked
at Daniel, his face implacable but still the face she knew and
loved so dearly.
Still, I think maybe I love
the baby more. What does that mean? Surely it isn’t possible to
love someone more than him? Daniel, who gives my days purpose and
fills my nights with
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