Page 53 of Special Delivery
She’d waited up for him, nervously placing and re-placing the pregnancy test at different angles on the dining table that sat near the entry of their one-bedroom rental. She hadn’t texted to see where he was because she didn’t want him to think she was in a ‘naggy mood’. She wanted him to arrive home fresh and unencumbered and full of love for her and their future(!).
As it happened, he arrived home in a sulk because someone had parked in his favourite car space. He was wearing his gym gear, but she could tell he must have had a few schooners afterwards as his arrival was tinged with a faint whiff of Coopers. It was just past 9 pm.
‘Good day?’ she’d asked, looping her arms around his waist in an effort to distract him from his mood.
‘Fine,’ he’d replied, disentangling himself. ‘Need to shower.’ He’d completely missed the pregnancy test lying on the table next to where he’d chucked his keys.
As the noise from the hot-water system filled the apartment, Poppy had the unsettling feeling that, already, this wasn’t going to plan. She’d imagined him arriving home with a big smile, a kiss for her, maybe a sneaky bum grab and a heartfelt inquiry about her day. She’d imagined she’d be coy, but he’dsee through her beaming happiness and notice the test with its two pink lines. He’d sweep her into his arms and spin her around like a princess—the kind of move he pulled when he had an audience.
‘What?’ he asked, noticing her pacing when he emerged from the shower.
Poppy’s eyes were wide and she couldn’t speak for nerves. She jerked her head towards the dining table, the pregnancy test perched atop it like a ticking timebomb.
Patrick swivelled his head from Poppy to the table and back. ‘What’s this? Is this a joke?’
Poppy shook her head.
‘What the hell? Really?’ Patrick snatched up the test and peered at the plastic window with the two pink lines staring back at him.
‘I did a test at work this afternoon. I wanted to tell you in person.’
Patrick suddenly dropped the test. ‘Yuck, I forgot you peed on this—gross,’ he said, wiping his hands on the back of his pyjama pants.
Poppy giggled nervously. ‘I didn’t pee on the whole thing, only the bit that’s covered by the plastic cap, which … oh it doesn’t matter …’ He’d already stopped listening to her babble.
‘How?’ asked Patrick, glaring at her. ‘You’re careful, right?’
Poppy scoffed. Their pull-out method of contraception was definitelynotcareful, and definitelynother sole responsibility. The very name of it indicated the onus was on the guy: he literally had topull out.
‘What do we do?’ asked Patrick.
‘I think it’s obvious, isn’t it? We’re having a baby.’
‘What?’ A muscle tensed in Patrick’s neck.
With a sickening thud in her stomach, Poppy realised that this scenario was rapidly veering off course.
‘Babe, we’re not ready for this.’
‘We’ve been together for nine years, Patrick. I’m thirty. We are textbook ready. I mean, yes, it would be nice to have planned it better, but we would have reached this point at some stage.’
‘Whoa, babe! These are some huge assumptions you’re making.’
‘You’re telling me you don’t want this?’ spluttered Poppy.
‘No! But yes. I dunno. Jesus, Poppy! You drop this shit on me out of the blue and expect me to go along with your crazy plans!’
‘Patrick, I didn’t get pregnant by myself! I wasn’t turkey-basting myself with your stolen jizz, for Christ’s sake. You know what sex does. You’re a grown man. You knew the risk.’
‘And that’s what it was! A risk, Poppy!’ He sighed. ‘Fuck me, do you really think we’re ready for this?’
A switch flicked in Poppy’s brain and it dawned on her that this was it. This was how they’d reached the end. With a pregnancy. It could have been the happiest day of her life. In a fog of confusion and swelling anxiety, she realised it was about to turn into the worst.
‘I mean, seriously, babe, we’re too young for this stuff.’ Patrick was assuming her silence indicated agreement. ‘We’ve got too much living to do, too much fun to have.’He moved towards her, his arms open. ‘You can’t seriously have thought—’
‘Don’t touch me,’ Poppy snapped. She rarely spoke like that to Patrick—she couldn’t bear the conflict—but this had triggered something visceral. She stepped around him and stalked to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Poppy never asked for anything from Patrick. She never expected anything from him. Most of the time, she was happy to go along with his plans, laugh at his recycled jokes and play the role of the awestruck girlfriend, but this felt different. This was a moment they could seize, this was a moment they could recount at sweet sixteens and weddings: the moment they discovered they were pregnant. Of all his stories, this could be the craziest. But not even that was enough.
