Double Lines

SIX MONTHS AGO…

I open the door of our apartment to a dark living room. Sighing, I switch the lights on and enter my quiet home. I finished work at nine tonight, and it’s not nine-thirty. Noah has clearly not come back from university.

Since the weekend, things have been different to how I thought it would be. Noah was happier the day after, and he hugged me on Monday. Hugged me! But I still haven’t dared to sleep in that room again. Noah changed the sheets… but I couldn’t face the bed.

This made him angry, and we had a fight. Yesterday, after university, he came home but refused to talk to me. We sat down and ate dinner with each other, but he refused to acknowledge me. After dinner, he stormed into his room and left me with the dishes.

Sighing again, I hang my bag on one of the dining room chairs and head for the kitchen to see what we have to eat in the fridge.

I’m sitting at the table, eating a sliced beef sandwich and drinking tea, when I hear the door unlock. I can’t help but smile, knowing that Noah is at the door. But it drops when he looks up at me.

“Hi. You’re late today,” I greet. Noah nods, rubbing the back of his neck. I notice a slight mark on his neck and furrow my brows.

“Everything okay?” Noah asks.

“I think so. Where were you?”

“Out studying at the library,” Noah quickly states.

“Really?”

“Yup.”

I nod, not believing him. Taking the last bite of my sandwich, I get up and put my dishes in the sink. I’ll wash them later.

“Did you work tonight?” Noah asks, coming up to me.

“I work every Wednesday,” I scoff, walking around him. As I walk past, I take a better look at his neck. He has bruises on his neck that I’m sure weren’t there before, and they look suspiciously like hickeys.

“What did you study?” I ask sarcastically, walking away. Noah says something, but I don’t hear him as I walk to the spare room and close the door behind me.

\\||// //||\\

PRESENT…

I lay on my bed, snuggling into the body pillow Melina bought me, thinking. I’m feeling awful. I know I have to call my parents as Christmas approaches, but I don’t want to. Usually, Noah and I would head home together for the Christmas break, spending six weeks hopping from one parent’s house to the next. But this time is different. I’ll be seven months pregnant this time, and there is no way in hell I’m going home to all those questions.

I’ve been toing and froing calling them, but I can’t. Okay, Mikaela, be a big girl. If you can contact an aunt you’ve never met and ask her to take you in, you can call your parents and tell them they won’t see you this Christmas. Sorry, Mum and Dad.

Grow some, Mikaela. Sighing at that thought, I search through my contacts and call home. Don’t pick up. Don’t pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mum, it’s me, Mikaela,” I greet.

“Hey, Micky. Did you get a new number?”

“Mum! Don’t call me that, you know I don’t like it. And yes, I got a new number.”

“Why? What was wrong with your old one? I’ve tried calling you and haven’t been able to,” Mum complains.

“I’m sorry, Mum, I’ve just been going through some things.”

“Some things? Like what? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Of course not. Nothing is happening,” I lie.

“You’re lying,” Mum retorts. Ah, frack.

“Mum, really! I’m good. I’ve just been busy. Uni has been really full-on. The coursework is a lot,” I complain.

“Brianna didn’t mention you were busy. What’s going on?”

I take a big breath when I hear that name. Brianna is Noah’s mum. Of course, he’s talked to her and obviously spoken about me. I bet he’s pretending we’re still together.

“Mum… you know each year gets harder! It doesn’t get easier, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Mum replies. I can hear her rolling her eyes at me through the phone.

“How has everyone been?” I ask, changing the subject. Mum starts talking about Dad and his work and Nichola and school. She asks if I want to talk to Dad or Nichola, but although I’m nervous and would instead not mention why I really called, I decline.

“Oh, about Christmas, Brianna wanted to barbecue at the reserve near Kingi’s River this year. She thought we could bring a T-ball set, maybe our swimmers, to swim in the river? Oh! And what food do you think we should bring? Do you think we should make a quiche, frittata, or both?”

“Mum!” I say for the third time. When Mum began rattling off her thoughts about Christmas, I tried to interrupt her, but she was so excited that it was difficult. I rolled over onto my back as Mum began to speak again.

“Well, what do you think? I think both. And maybe a salad… what do you think?”

“Mum, I’m not coming home this Christmas,” I admit.

“Wait, what? Why not?”

“I broke up with Noah months ago; I can’t see him at Christmas; it’ll be too embarrassing,” I tell her. And I’m pregnant, are the words I don’t say.

“He told Brianna he was coming with you for Christmas as usual,” Mum says, not believing me.

“Mum, he has a new girlfriend. I couldn’t face seeing them happy together, so I… kind of… transferred my studies to online ones,” I admit.

“You can do that?”

“Yes,” I reply, nodding, even though she can’t see me.

“I’m sorry you and Noah broke up. I thought… and Brianna never mentioned anything,” Mum muses, thinking.

“You’ll try to come back during one of your breaks next year?”

“If I can, I will, Mum,” I lie.

“We’re going to miss you, Mikaela…” Mum begins.

“I know, Mum. I’m sorry. But, good news, I’ve got a job lined up for the summer,” I tell her. And I’ll be working there until February. I will take six months off university and then go part-time in semester two next year.

“Well… can you give me your address so I can send presents…?”

“Mum, I’m too old for presents,” I laugh.

“Never. You’re never too old, my Micky-Mack,” Mum says.

“Okay, well, I should go,” I tell Mum.

“Yeah, I guess. Okay. Call me, okay?”

“Yes, I will,” I tell Mum, “I love you,” I end.

I press the red phone icon to end the call and drop my phone onto the bed before rolling over to hug my body pillow again. I feel bad that I’m keeping stuff from her. But they’re important stuff…two big things, to be exact.

I’m pregnant and living with your identical twin sister you’ve never talked about, I say in my head.

//\\///\\\//\\

The following weeks go by quickly, and as Christmas approaches, the more I feel guilty about not going home to my parents for Christmas. Nichola called me as Mum had kept my phone number on her phone. Apparently, Noah was looking for me and asked my family if they had heard from me. Nichola told me Mum had wanted to give Noah my new number, but thank goodness she didn’t. I think I would have to change my number again if she did that and have a heated conversation with my mother.

Which, with my hormones, would have been hard to resist. I’m so moody at the moment. One moment, I can be calm and sit at the table; the next, I’m in tears. Pregnancy sucks. With that thought, I bury my head into my pillow to hide my tears.

Tonight is the last childbirth and parenting class at the hospital. Melina has been coming to the weekly classes with me, joining in on every activity; she even sat next to me, holding my hand as we watched a very graphic birthing video. We’ve visited the maternity and birthing wards and wandered through the intensive care unit. Those babies in their incubators look so tiny and vulnerable, with their eyelids taped shut and newborn nappies looking too big on them.

“Are you looking forward to the holidays?” Sofia, one of the mums-to-be, asks me as we ride in the elevator up to class.

“I’m looking forward to all the food,” I say, looking over at Melina, who laughs.

“What about the weekend away, Nurse Rebecca suggested? Do you think you’ll do that before your baby comes?” Sofia then asks.

“We’re going to the Lakes District. I’ve booked a house next to Little Lake,” Greg, Sofia’s husband, says, proudly rubbing her belly.

“I’m not sure,” I reply. Melina and I have been relatively vague about my baby’s father. When asked, we said he works late and can’t attend class. Sofia is very nosy, though, always asking questions. She’s nice enough, but…

“You’re due after me; it’s something you should really consider,” Sofia begins when the elevator door opens. I nod at her statement and give Melina a knowing look before entering the hallway.

“It’s so sad; tonight is your last class!” Nurse Rebecca moans.

“At least we have food…” Mary, one of the other mothers, says, looking at the table at the back of the room. People laugh at her statement. Melina baked double chocolate chip muffins for tonight, and my stomach grumbles just thinking about them.

“Okay, so before we start eating, we will have a competition!” Nurse Rebecca smiles. She gets us to sit in a circle before bringing out some white towelling cotton cloths.

“Who knows how to make a cloth nappy?” Nurse Rebecca asks, with an evil grin on her face.

“I do,” Melina says, raising her hand. I look at my aunt, surprised.

“Show us,” Nurse Rebecca asks.

Melina nods and carefully folds the cloth into a triangle, folding it again in certain places so it’s thicker in the middle and finally using a nappy pin to hold it together.

“Well done! For this challenge, you must make a cloth nappy from scratch. The person who finishes it first will get a free box of Huggies newborn nappies. Melina, you’ll have to step out of this challenge.”

“Awe!” I cry, making everyone laugh.

We each are given a cloth nappy, and when Nurse Rebecca tells us to start, I frantically fold this square cloth into a triangular nappy.

“Done!” Greg, one of the dads, calls out. I sigh and sit back in my kneeling position.

“Congratulations!”

Nurse Rebecca then pulls out some baby dolls and gets us to swaddle them in muslin cloth, making this a competition as well. I didn’t win this prize either, but that was okay. Sofia was delighted with her prize of three white muslin swaddling wraps.

“All right, let’s eat,” Nurse Rebecca finally announces, making everyone cheer.

While we eat, Nurse Rebecca leaves us, returning with a portable heart monitor.

“Who wants to see their baby’s heart rate?” Nurse Rebecca asks. I raise my hand, and so do some of the other parents.

“A fast baby heart rate usually indicates a girl,” Nurse Rebecca says as she squats in front of Sofia and Greg, her device sitting comfortably on Sofia’s stomach.

“Is this fast?” Greg asks. Nurse Rebecca nods.

“Would you like a printout of the heartbeat?” she asks them. They nod, and she prints a strip of paper out for them.

“What about you? What do you want?” Nurse Rebecca asks as she places the heart-monitoring pad on my stomach. I shrug my shoulders.

“I’d like a girl, but I’ll be happy if my baby just turns out healthy,” I reply. I smile at the thought of having a girl. Images of playing with my daughter’s hair and plaiting it come to mind. I will be happy if I have a boy, as long as he’s healthy, but I would like a girl.

“Of course, you can’t accurately tell the gender through the heartbeat. Would you like a printout?” Nurse Rebecca asks me.

“Yes, please,” I smile.

“I am so full,” I complain to Melina on the way home, “I think I’m going to burst,” I added, rubbing my belly.

“Just not in the car, please. And if you do, I’m not cleaning it,” Melina laughs. She parks her car in the back car lot, and I walk to our apartment. I can’t believe that I will have a little baby to hold in my arms in four more months!

- edited