The Art of Keeping Faith (41 page)

May

1st May

Ben:
Nothing

It’s the first of May. I have no boyfriend. I am doing no studying. I have a baby in my tummy and today I met the scariest person I have ever, ever encountered.

The midwife.

Juanetta is huge, bossy, and quite frankly, scary, with a bosom large enough to feed an entire maternity ward full of babies.

“So how many weeks are you?” she barks.

“Uh, eleven I think.”

“You mean to say you don’t know?”

“Um, no. I only found out about the baby three weeks ago.”

“Oh, one of those, are you?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Do you smoke?”

“No, not anymore.”

“Drink?”

“No, not anymore.”

“Had any sickness?”

“Yes, rather bad actually.”

“How bad is bad? Once, twice a day?”

“Uh, no. Bad is about six times a day at best, and every time I eat drink or move.”

She looks at me sharply.

“How long?” she barks again.

“What? How long what?”
And
you are scaring me you psycho bitch.

“Since you started being that sick.”

“Uh. I don’t know? Since before I found out I was pregnant.”

She taps her pen on the desk for a minute and does some calculations in her head; I can clearly see the cogs turning.

“Right, if you are still being sick that often by next week then I will need you to come back and tell me and we will have you admitted.”

“What! Admitted where?”

“To the hospital, no woman can go that long without sustenance.”

Clearly she has not met me before. I am Lilah Vodka McCannon and I can go weeks on cereal alone.

I look at her with an air of superiority.

“That won’t be a problem for me, I am used to going without food.”

“You may be, but your baby isn’t.”

Oh.

“Okay, then. I will come back.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Okay, then.”

“You will also have a scan next week or the week after. Have you had your letter yet?”

“Uh, maybe? I am not sure.”

“Well, then I suggest you go and find out. Oh and, Delilah, I also suggest you buy a diary and a baby book, I have a feeling you are going to need it. I will see you in six weeks.”

Uh, no you won’t.

Because I am going to find myself a nice cosy midwife. Not someone who clearly should work for the frigging Gestapo.

When I get home I announce to Tristan and Meredith that there is no way I am ever seeing that woman again, well not by myself. So one of them will have to come to the appointments with me.

I then proceed to tear the house apart looking for a letter about a scan date. After half an hour of destroying every available place I can think of Meredith hands me a sheet of paper in a clear punched pocket.

“Is this what you are looking for?”

“Yes! Where was it and why on earth is it in a pocket? Even my Uni work is not in one of these.” I wave the offending pocket about.

“I filed it in the Lilah Pregnancy Folder in the kitchen.”

The what?

“Sorry. In the what?”

“The Lilah Pregnancy Folder. It is on the shelf in the kitchen. It is where I have been putting all your stuff while you’ve been sick.”

“Oh, my God, you are completely freaking me out. And I have met enough scary people today.”

I turn and stomp off to my room taking up my staring at the ceiling position. Half an hour later Meredith creeps in and puts the folder on the end of my bed and then sneaks back off again.

After another half an hour has passed I look in the folder and then have a good old cry when I realise I have been a complete bitch to my best friend. Meredith has dutifully put everything into a folder for me, and has also been writing down detailed notes regarding what has been making me sick and what seems to make me better. She has also put the scan photo in there, the one from Easter Sunday; the photo showing the little splodge with a heartbeat pulsing in the middle of it. The photo that I have not looked at since that day because if I did then I would have to also look at all the other stuff that happened that day. That is something I cannot face right now because then I would have to admit that I really miss Ben and I wish I had not said some of the things I had in haste.

Half an hour later I head back out of my room and into the lounge where I find her sitting on the sofa watching Eastenders. I sit down next to her.

“Thank you,” I say after another half an hour has passed.

“You’re welcome,” she replies as the credits roll up. “Toast or ginger biscuits?”

“Biscuits.”

“Thought so.”

She gets up to fetch the only snack I can successfully hold down.

“Love you, Mer,” I tell her resting my head on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”

Me:
Ben I have so much to tell, I want to tell you all about the person I met today and why I was there.

2nd May

Ben:
Nothing

“Hey, Lilah! Wait up!”

Crap, it’s Richard, jogging after me across campus as I try and make it to the gates without a) throwing up in front of someone, or b) lying to someone.

Both are inevitable as he finally catches up with me.

“Lilah, wait up, how are you? I have not seen you since before Easter? You okay?”

I turn and attempt a nonchalant smile.

“Hey, Rich. Yeah, I am fine. How are you? Thanks for helping me out when I was sick by the way. I never got a chance to thank you at the time.”

“That’s cool, Ben made it quite clear that he was able to take care of you once he was home,” he smiles and reaches out a hand to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.

I grimace a little. “Yeah, I am sorry about that.”

“That’s okay. Did you guys have a good time together?”

Is he taking the piss? There is no way he can’t know. I assumed it was all over campus by now. Lilah McCannon couldn’t keep hold of her hot rock God boyfriend after all.

“Uh, no not really, we split up.”

Richard stands there with his mouth hanging open. Literally.

“What?”

“Um, we split up, I kind of assumed you knew.”

“No I didn’t, I’m sorry I guess. What happened?”

“Oh, you know.”

He shrugs and I bizarrely shrug back.

“So, um, do you fancy coming out for a drink with me then? Maybe tonight?”

“Pardon?”

“Would you like you come out with me tonight. It is Friday night, after all?”

“What, like on a date?”

“Well, yeah? Maybe? I guess.”

I don’t think my ears are working properly.

“What about Fi?”

Okay there are probably better questions to ask, but this is the one that comes to mind first.

“Well we are kind of over, too.”

“Really?” My disbelief is evident.

“Yeah, coincidence hey.” He shrugs with his words.

“Mm, coincidence.”

“So do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Lilah, for goodness’ sake, do you want to go out with me, you know properly.”

Shit.

“Um, well, that is nice of you to ask. But I think it’s a little soon, you know. I don’t think I am ready to go out on a date or anything yet.” Or ever.

He gives me a sheepish smile.

“Yeah, I guess you are right. That’s probably for the best.”

You think?

I offer him a smile and a wave and then dash toward the gates as quick as I can.

That was very weird.

Me:
Ben I miss you. I need to tell you something

3rd May

Ben:
Nothing

Baz and I have just shifted all the furniture around the shop. Baz has purchased lots of low sofa’s and coffee tables to dot about the place. I don’t know whether they are for the teenagers or the harassed mothers but right now he should just be lucky I have not thrown up on them. The physical exertion has not agreed with me at all.

“So you broke up with Ben?” Baz is staring at me a little wild eyed.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story involving many different factors, none of which I will bore you with.”

“Was it the picture in the Daily Star?”

“Did you see that and not tell me?”

“Well, yeah, but I figured it was a pile of crap.”

“Apparently not.”

“Lilah, are you sure you haven’t overreacted again?”

“No!”

Maybe a little bit.

“Well okay, have you spoken to him since?”

“No, he is not answering any of my calls. Apparently he has moved on.” I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. Why has he moved on?

“I didn’t think he was in the States at the moment?” Baz blurts and then clamps his hand over his mouth.

“Baz! What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” He waves his hand at me. “Fancy a beer?”

“It’s half nine.”

“So?”

“Nah, I can’t.”

His eyes narrow.

“I’m still on antibiotics,” I inform him quickly.

“Really? Jesus what did you have? Malaria?”

“Something like that.”

“So this Richard plonker. Did he really ask you out, straight away?” Baz tries to distract me from his Ben Stateside blunder by changing the subject back to Richard. I was initially ranting about him as we shifted the furniture and I realised that Baz still did not know about the big split.

”Yep,” I confirm, passing him a beer out of the surprisingly well-stocked fridge. Then I realise it is well stocked because I have not drunk anything for three weeks.

Oh.

“He is a cock. I can’t believe it has taken you this long to notice.”

“Baz! He is not. He is a friend who just wanted to take me out to cheer me up.”

“What, on a date?”

“Yeah, I guess!” Even I know this sounds strange but I am sticking to my argument.

“Some friend!”

“Yeah he is!” I retort.

He mumbles something as he walks away. I don’t quite catch it but it sounds like something along the lines of, “What a fucking wanker.”

Blimey.

Me:
Ben, you should see what Baz and I did today. I think you would love it. I wish you were here so I could share it with you.

4th May

Ben:
Nothing

Google.

Normally Google is my saving grace when it comes to researching anything of any importance such as essays, recipes and good bar’s to visit.

Today it is letting me down. Big time.

I have two things I need to find out.

1. Where is Ben?

2. What are these weird lumps on my nipples?

I can’t find any mention of Ben post Easter. There is nothing on the Sound Box website, there is nothing on their Facebook page (there has not even been a status update since Easter,) there is nothing on Twitter and there is no sighting of him in any of the daily rags. Believe me I have checked every single one and there is not one line of print or one teeny tiny picture printed.

Now what to think? I shall have to muse on it while I investigate the other worrying development in my life.

The weird lumps on my nipples.

They have seemingly appeared overnight and they are unsightly to say the least.

Problem is, I don’t know how to describe them and every time I try and search for them on Google I end up with loads of pervy pictures of nipples coming up.

Some people are truly sick.

Half an hour later after staring at more nipples than I would ever care to look at, I shut the laptop with a resounding bang. What a pile of crap.

“What are you doing? And more to the point what did the laptop do to you?” asks Meredith from the doorway where she is stood holding a piece of toast.

“What’s on the bread?”

“Um, peanut butter.”

“Nope, you can’t come in,” I grump at her.

“What! Why?”

“Because I really want some and according to the paperwork you filed for me it is the one thing I am not allowed.”

“That and brie,” she adds.

“What, no brie! That’s fucking shit. Being pregnant sucks big time,” I shout kicking my legs into my duvet before I start to cry.

Meredith looks at me in alarm from the safety perimeter of the door then shoves the toast into her mouth in one go before stepping into my room.

“What’s the matter, and what are you searching for so desperately on the Internet?” she asks once she has swallowed down the overload of toast.

“How do you know I was Googling?”

“Googling, stalking, it’s all the same with you,” she laughs.

That’s true.

I start to sob harder.

“I’m trying t-o-o-o f-i-n-d-out w-h-a-t the l-u-m-p-s a-r-e o-n m-y n-i-p-p-l-e-s,” I manage to get out eventually.

Meredith completely wets herself.

I glare at her, although this just makes her laugh harder.

“They are called Montgomery Nodules and they are something to do with feeding the baby,” she helpfully tells me when she realises that I am not finding the situation very funny at all.