The Half Sister(2)
She’d always wanted a baby with the husband she loves, more than anything in the world. Had been consumed by it at one point. But the pain and constant disappointment were taking their toll. If she’d had her way, they would have stopped at the third IVF attempt. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally; her nervous energy depleted by the tales she’d had to spin to friends and work colleagues who raised a knowing eyebrow whenever she refused an alcoholic drink.
‘This is it,’ she’d said to Matt, a couple of nights ago, as they were snuggled on the couch watching TV.
She felt him stiffen and sit up straighter. ‘What, this is our last chance?’ he asked, seemingly floored.
Hadn’t he noticed how tired she was? Seen her desolation every time they looked at a blank pregnancy test? Couldn’t he see how their whole lives had been taken over by the process of getting pregnant?
‘I’ve had enough,’ she’d said quietly.
‘But we . . .’ he stuttered. ‘Darling, we’re so close now – I know it. We can do this.’
Something inside her had snapped. ‘You keep saying we, as if we’re going through this together.’
He’d looked at her, hurt. ‘Aren’t we?’
She chastised herself for taking her frustrations out on the person she loves the most. But isn’t that always the way?
She thinks back to how carefree they’d once been. How they’d met on the newsroom floor of the Gazette and bonded over mutual banter about a loathsome editor. It had made the day go quicker, made the shifts under the editor’s watch seem a little easier to bear. Whenever he’d march into the open-plan office, shouting his morning mantra, ‘Who are we going to throw to the lions today?’, Kate and Matt would race to send each other an email with ‘YOU?’ in the subject heading. It was a regrettable day when the editor himself received Matt’s email.
‘I’ll miss working with you,’ said Matt, as he and Kate sat in the pub ruing their stupidity. ‘But every cloud has a silver lining.’
She’d thought he was referring to his new job at rival newspaper the Echo. She couldn’t stop grinning when he added, ‘Because now I can ask you out.’
They’d spent blissful evenings trawling the pubs of South London and lazy weekend mornings reading the papers in bed. But now she can’t remember the last time they’d done either.
Instead, they’d been referring to ovulation charts before they made love and subliminally avoiding social events with their pregnant and blessed-with-children friends, which seemed to be just about everyone they knew.
In their effort to have a baby, they’d lost the ability to be spontaneous. Ironically, they’d given up what should have been the halcyon days of pre-parenthood to the restrictions of being responsible for another human, despite the painful absence of one.
‘Done!’ says Dr Williams with a flourish. He puts the catheter back on the tray and pings his gloves off.
‘So, we’ve got two more in the freezer?’ asks Matt. ‘Before we have to go through egg retrieval again, I mean?’
‘Yes, we’ve got two more good quality embryos left to go on this cycle.’
‘But even if they don’t work, we can still go again, can’t we?’ Matt continues.
Kate doesn’t want to have this conversation. She has an urgent need to empty her painfully full bladder and all the time there’s a viable chance of a baby being inside her, she refuses to acknowledge that they’ll have to go through this again. Because that would mean that the little human being who is having to work so hard right now isn’t going to make it.
‘Let’s concentrate on the here and now,’ says Dr Williams, as Kate swings her legs down to the floor. ‘So, just carry on as normal, and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks’ time for the blood test to see where we’re at.’
Kate looks to Matt and smiles. She can’t help but notice that he’s got his fingers crossed.
2
Kate
‘So, no Matt today?’ asks Rose, Kate’s mum, as she bustles into the dining room carrying a tray of roast potatoes.
Lauren deftly lifts one out as Rose sets the tray down and bites into it, groaning with pleasure as it crunches.
‘Afraid not,’ says Kate. ‘He got called into the office at the last minute.’
‘Ah well, no bother,’ says Rose, going back into the kitchen. ‘I’ll do you a plate to take home.’
‘So, what’s the big scoop of the day?’ asks Lauren’s husband Simon, as he carves into the beef joint that’s resting in the middle of the table. Kate can’t help but feel that he’s taking her dad’s job away from him. ‘Or are you not allowed to tell?’ he goes on.
‘I could –’ Kate lowers her voice – ‘but then I’d have to kill you.’
He laughs heartily at the joke he thinks she’s made, but, truth be known, nothing would give her more pleasure. She and Matt had often lain in bed thinking of ways to commit the perfect murder, and her sister’s husband always topped the list of potential victims. He’s tolerated rather than liked, and if it wasn’t for her mother wanting to keep the Sunday-lunch ritual going, Kate could quite easily never see him again. But hey, you can’t choose your family.