The Art of Letting Go (The Uni Files) (21 page)

“I think my baby is in there.” She gestures at the toilet then she completely falls apart.

Tristan walks towards her grabbing a towel as he goes and picks her up like a little doll, gently kissing her forehead as he murmurs gentle words I cannot hear over the static buzzing in my ears. He takes her into her room where he sits with her on his lap while I try desperately to get through to the early pregnancy unit at the hospital.

Finally I get through to some complete mega bitch who tells me that from what I am describing, Meredith has indeed lost the baby but they would not be able to tell for sure until the following morning when the scanning unit is open again.

“What? You can’t do a scan today?” Disbelief colours my tone.

Ben glances up and watches me closely. “No, it is closed. Be here tomorrow at nine. It is first come, first served.”

What?! How shitty is the National Health Service when a young girl, or any woman for that matter, has to go all night without knowing if her baby is alive or not. I just can’t get my head around it, and I tell this to the woman in no uncertain terms, until Ben finally takes the phone away from me, apologises to the woman, and hangs up.

I turn, starting to scream at him. How dare he undermine me? How dare he imply that I am embarrassing anyone with my anger? Instead of pushing me away, he just grabs me and pulls me in tight and close. Then I start to cry. In the end, he has to take me out of the room as my near hysteria is making Meredith worse.

Meredith continues to bleed all night. We all sit with her. It is not at all what I expected. Not that I know much about it, but I kind of thought it would just be over. Instead, it is slow and drawn out and desperately traumatic. Ben eventually gives me the phone back so I can call the hospital again. It seems crazy just sitting here, but I am assured, nicely this time, that Meredith is better in the comfort of her own home. The simple fact being that this early in a pregnancy there is little they can do anyway. I have no idea how to tell Meredith this. There are no words for telling your friend news like that.

At nine this morning we are waiting at the scan unit. Ben holds my hand tightly in loving support, but I think he may also be worried that I will punch the first midwife I spot.

By nine-thirty we have our answer. Meredith lost the baby at eight weeks and four days.

Only two weeks ago, the news of the little bump had come as a complete shock to us all, unexpected and unwelcomed. Yet there are four shell-shocked people leaving that hospital. My heart could break over and over again at the memory of Tristan’s face. I will never be able to forget it.

Meredith is scheduled for a procedure in a few days to make sure that everything is all gone.

How bad is that? She has to have an operation to make sure that her baby is all gone.

We came home and drank a lot of vodka. I don’t care that I did not make the full month without alcohol.

I have also smoked thirty cigarettes, and had sex with Ben, twice. None of it has made me feel better.

I am not sure that anything ever will.

27th January

This morning I called my dad and told him he could go to hell.

I don’t need him.

We don’t need him.

He told me that the Estate Agents would make sure the place was sold by the end of July.

I told him to do it quicker. We did not want his poncy flat anyway.

Then I called him an arsehole.

Then I had sex with Ben again. And then again.

February

1st February

I have awoken to a text from Meredith.

Meredith:
Lil, I have some exciting news. See you Later?

I have absolutely no idea what can be exciting. She had her operation yesterday, and I have not seen her very much since the whole thing at the hospital. She and Tristan have been at the flat in Putney. Dealing with their world of pain, which I can hardly comprehend no matter how much I try.

Dad has already sent estate agents around. I mean I know I told him to sell it quick, but really! What a bloody wanker.

I spoke to Meredith the night before her procedure and she told me she was scared they had made a mistake and that the baby might have still been there. I had no idea how to respond at first

but then I decided that honesty was the best policy. It seems honesty is always the best policy it just takes a considerable level of maturity and decency to say the right thing. These are life skills I am learning fast.

“Babe, we all saw that scan. There was no baby anymore. I’m sorry.” This had been met with silence followed by her saying in a small voice, “I know that, I just keep dreaming about it.”

“I know. I keep dreaming about it, too.”

She then assured me that as soon as the operation was over she would start getting her arse in gear. She almost sounded upbeat, which is good.

Not so good is the fact that I will then also have to get my arse in gear. This will mean going dry again, giving up the ciggies, going back to the gym and trying to stop having outrageously awesome sex with Ben at every available opportunity.

That is going to be a complete bitch.

Okay, tomorrow is Saturday. I will hit the gym hard and start getting all the nasties out of my system.

I wonder what Meredith has to tell me. The suspense is killing me.

Me:
What is it? I want to know now.

Meredith:
Be patient! Will be with you in half an hour.

Me:
Just tell me, for goodness sake.

Meredith:
Get Ben and wait for us at Digby bar.

Ah, Digby bar! My new favourite place as it is so cheap and I no longer have any money due to giving it all to the ‘new home fund.’

Yay! I will go and knock for Ben.

The Big News

11.47 p.m.

Well, that was all a bit unexpected.

Hmm. I’m not sure what to think about a single thing that has happened this evening.

Good? Bad? Weird? I have no clue whatsoever.

Earlier:

“Wanna come and play?” I ask, poking my head around Ben's door.

I no longer bother to knock. Seems kind of pointless when we practically live in each other’s rooms on a casual basis. Well, when we are not ignoring each other, that is.

He is sitting on his bed with his guitar, biro in mouth and notebook laid to one side. I know this look. It means he is trying to come up with new lyrics or new tunes, or a combination of both. It is completely fascinating to watch. He sits there dead still just staring off into space and then suddenly spends a frantic couple of minutes scribbling stuff down. Then he goes back to staring again.

He waves a hand at me and I know he is in the middle of something so I sit on the floor and wait for him to finish.

It gives me a good chance to ogle him. This is a pastime of which I will never get bored. He really is rather fine, but in a ridiculously unaware way. I don’t think he has the faintest clue what he looks like. In fact, sometimes I wonder what he sees when he looks in the mirror. At the moment he is sporting one of my favourite outfits: sweat pants and a holey stretched-out old T-shirt. It might seem crazy liking him best in what could effectively be pyjamas, but it is when he is casual like this that I find him practically irresistible, most especially when he is padding around barefoot all dishevelled and artistic.

“Are you drooling?” he jokes.

I make a show of feeling the floor around me. “No, should I be?”

“You looked a bit glazed then.”

“Oh, whatever, big head.”

“Better believe it, babe!”

We both start to giggle. ‘Babe’ is not a word he should use. It makes him sound outrageously gay.

“Come on,” I say. “Meredith wants to meet us in the bar, and before you ask I have no idea why. It is a secret surprise or something.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, I will just get changed. Don’t think I should go out in my pyjamas.”

He gives me a wink, and then makes a show of slowly stripping in front of me. Okay, maybe he is slightly aware of what he looks like, to me, anyway.

Twenty minutes later we saunter into what has effectively become our local hangout since the Lilah McCannon personal reserve bank closed its doors. Meredith is already there and even through the dim hazy lighting of Digby Student Union Bar I can see what the big news is.

Sitting her on her ring finger is the biggest diamond I have ever seen. It challenges the one that John bought for me, and that has to be saying something.

I stop dead in my tracks. Ben pulls to a stop by my side and looks at me and then at them.

“Oh,” is all he says.

I slide my hand into his and we walk over the sticky floor to meet them. The entire way I wrack my brains trying to think of what the hell to say.

Meredith cracks up when she see us, but then she always has had a dodgy sense of humour.

“You should see your faces!”

She laughs like a hyena sporting some serious bling. Tristan is at the bar getting what looks to be a bottle of champagne. I glance over at Trev.

“Since when did you start selling the good stuff?” I ask.

“Just call me an old romantic,” he replies with a chuckle, handing us some terrible wine glasses.

The Student Union Bar is not known for its wine cellar.

Tristan turns towards us beaming like a bloody idiot.

“So anyway,” he says, “yesterday after all that stuff. . .”

He doesn’t need to tell us what, Ben and I both wince automatically when we think of what they were doing yesterday.

“. . . I asked Meredith if she would marry me”

He reads my expression, which I am ashamed to say is a little shocked. I don’t know why. A few days ago I thought they were going to have a baby together. This is nowhere near as BIG as that.

“After she finishes Uni—
Jeez, Lilah!
Take a chill pill," he interjects on himself. “Meredith has very generously agreed to spend the rest of her life with me.”

The look on his face is a picture and it melts my heart completely. I break into a smile, my eyes stinging with sudden tears. Just because I do not believe in marriage for myself does not mean I wouldn’t want it for them, especially if it makes them so happy, which it obviously does.

Meredith gives me a hug, which I return as tight as I can, squeezing the life out of her with my arms.

“It’s okay, Lil, I know I’m young,” she whispers as we hug. “We aren’t rushing down the aisle now. It’s just after what we have been through, we know we always want to be together and this is just to cement that between us.”

As she finishes speaking, she wiggles the iceberg under my nose. It’s very pretty but somewhat large for my taste.

“Guys, if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

And I am happy. I give my brother a massive hug and then squeeze Meredith one more time for good measure. She really deserves it. She is going to put up with Tristan forever.

Ben just stands there watching this all play out. Tristan looks at him and Ben gives his head a shake, as if to clear whatever thoughts he is having. He steps forward and says all the appropriate things, taking his glass of bubbles and joining in with the clinking. As soon as it is done, he announces he is going for a cigarette and strides out of the bar.

Bit weird.

Giving the others a shrug, I turn and follow him out.

I find him under the same tree that months ago we stood under together on our first day of term after our first visit to Digby bar. He is leaning against the trunk, and I can’t help but blush as I remember being pushed up against the tree in the exact same spot, my legs around his waist. I had hardly known him then but it had not stopped me. The chemistry had been instant between us.

Unlike that day months ago when it had been drizzling, clammy and warm, today it is bloody freezing. I step towards him, raising my hand to brush his cheek, fingers grazing his skin.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I run a finger along the arch of his eyebrow.

“I am pissed off.”

Ben is not one to mince words.

“Why?”

He just stares, the blues drilling in to me. It makes me shift uncomfortably.

Silence.

And still more silence as he continues to watch me.

“Before I met you, I never wanted to get married or have kids or anything like that,” he finally begins.

There is another pause as he analyses me some more, clearly he does not know how much he should say. I can almost see the words battling to get out, but he fights to keep them in. I give his hand an encouraging squeeze.

“But since I met you, it is all I have thought about, and yet it seems to be happening to other people and not to us.”

He stops to take a drag on his cigarette. “Not that I would want us to go through the terrible things Trist and Mer have, but I keep thinking, what if we were to get pregnant accidentally and create something perfect just by chance? I think it would be the best news in the world.”

I stare at him in shock. I can’t believe he is saying this. Just a few weeks ago he was telling me that he never wanted to have children.

But he is not done yet.

“Then I keep beating myself up, thinking that if I had not gotten so bloody drunk that night, and made that awful mistake after that gig, that you and I may have been engaged by now. It was always my intention to ask you. I was waiting for your birthday. It’s not like I didn’t wait forever just to find you.” He trails off giving a humourless laugh.

“Now I have to stand here, and be pleased for our friends. I am, but I am also jealous as hell. Jealous of the things that won’t happen for us.”

I am still in complete shock. I have never heard him say anything like this before. I can’t even process what he was saying.

He wanted to marry me after only three months of knowing me? How is that even possible?

Then, I realise I would have said ‘yes’, straight away, after only knowing him for three months.

Oh God!

So what? He wanted to marry me, but he’s now changed his mind?

Is this because of Barbie and how I reacted? Or is it because of the America thing and the fact he is leaving?

Oh my god, my head!

I can’t get my mind around this. What am I supposed to say?

I go for silence instead.

He waits until I can only think of one question. “How were you going to ask me?”

He gives a little secret smile. “I’m not telling you! Never know when I may get to use the idea one day.”

Just like that, I think that he may have not given up on us completely after all.

Maybe we will be like Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth and find each other again when there is no longer anything to keep us apart. I know I can’t count on that being true, but it gives me a little glimmer of something resembling hope.

“You know the other week? I asked if maybe you would like to go out on another date with me, as we have only had one real one . . .”

He trails off so I helpfully add again, “And how we have sex all the time . . .”

He giggles a little and kisses my forehead, the faint stubble along his jaw scratches ever so slightly against my skin. My natural instinct is to move in closer. Closer to him.

“Yes, that, thank you, Delilah. Well, I was wondering if I could ask for an extended date and maybe you could come to Dorset with me over the next holiday?”

What?

He looks a bit embarrassed, probably misreading my facial expression, which involves my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

“It’s just that I like the idea of going to Lyme Regis with you, and I would like to do it before I leave.”

He does not say the words, ‘before I leave and I might not get the chance again’ but they hang there unspoken. Just like that my little glimmer of hope I had moments before is snuffed out.

I think quickly.
Take it, don’t take it. Take it, don’t take it.

Take it
.

I link my fingers in his.

“That sounds like fun, Ben, although as we are not proper boyfriend and girlfriend, I think I should ask for separate rooms.”

My little giggle of mirth is cut short by his lips touching mine. It’s only a short kiss but I didn’t let him escape. May as well make good use of this tree whilst we are standing here.

Ten minutes later we head back to the bar, readjusting our clothes as we go, to find Tristan and Meredith on their second bottle of champagne. This time Ben really does congratulate them, giving me a wink as he does so.

I’m not sure what the wink means. Actually, I am not sure of the meaning of anything. All I know is that he has asked me to go away with him and it will just be me and him together, and that has got to be a good thing.

2nd February

Oh god, it’s Valentine's Day in a couple of weeks. With the way things are this could be a minefield of problems.

Ben and I are not dating, which means I should not give him a card.

Ben and I happen to have sex on a frequent basis, which means I should give him a card.