Page 63 of Elijah
“I said I was sorry, it was an accident, so just let me buy you another box.”
“No. I don’t want you to.”
I heard Amy tut on the other end of the line and it pissed me off. I’d apologised, offered to buy more, so what the fuck was her problem?
“Are you pre-menstrual now, is that what’s wrong with you?” I asked, picking up a box and reading the front of it. “I’ll get super, it’s to do with the flow according to the box and if your mood is anything to go by, they’re exactly what you need.”
“You did not just say that to me,” Amy roared down the phone. “You cheeky bastard.”
“Well you’re obviously in a bad mood, I just assumed it was because you had your period and it was a bad one.”
“I am not in a bad mood,” she hissed. “All I said was not to buy me any tampons.”
“It wasn’t what you said, but the way you said it, Amy. I’ve been with you long enough to know when you’re in a mood, and you’re in a mood. Now just tell me what damn tampons you want.”
“I don’t,” she cried. “I don’t want any fucking tampons. I don’t need any fucking tampons, so don’t buy me any fucking tampons, you stupid prick.”
And then the line went dead.
* * *
As I let myself into our apartment, the soft sound of Meadowlark’s, May I Have This Dance drifted from our bedroom. With a sigh, I deposited the two shopping bags in the kitchen and then went to find out how bad a mood my wife was in.
“Hey,” I said, seeing Amy curled up in a ball on the bed.
She turned her head to look at me. “Hi.”
“You in a better mood?” I asked, tensing ready for the fight.
“I’m not in a bad mood,” was her soft reply. “Did you get everything we needed?”
I frowned, wondering why she hadn’t flown off the handle. She liked nothing better than getting the last word in an argument, and never backed down from one.
“You got a bad stomach?” I asked, noticing her arms wrapped around it.
Amy didn’t respond immediately, but chewed on her lip and pulled herself into a sitting position. Her eyes were red and her face was so pale she looked as though she’d never seen a ray of sunshine, ever.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her hand. “This isn’t because of the bloody tampons, is it?”
She shrugged. “Kind of.”
“What do you mean?” I shuffled closer to her, running a hand over her mussed up hair. “It was just a tiff, Amy. It’s hardly worth getting upset about.”
“I know, it’s not that.”
“So what is it then?”
She drew in a jagged breath before slowly letting it out and lengthening her body to sit up straighter. Taking the remote for the speaker, she turned down the volume of the music and turned back to me.
“I’m pregnant.”
As she said the words, a silent plea swept across her face – please don’t hate me, please be happy about this.
She couldn’t be further from the mark.
“Really?” I asked, exhilaration and emotion mixing together to make my head spin. “Honestly?”
Amy nodded. “I didn’t forget to take my pill, I don’t know how it happened, I swear-.”
