Page 34 of Save You
I’m left to rock back and forth on my feet while he sets up his phone on the wooden sideboard, one that has definitely seen better days.
“You once told me you thought your dad was lucky to get to go and see LiveAid, so I thought we could have our own little concert right here, in this cabin.” He grins and presses his phone, so music begins to play. I breathlessly laugh over his playfulness when the sound of Dire Strait’sRomeo and Julietflows out softly through the small speakers, reminding me of Friday nights back at home. My parents often played their favorite songs at the weekend, pretending they were still dating, even though Riley and I were very much a part of their lives. They’d both dress up, make a posh dinner, and turn the music up loud. This track was one of Mal’s favorites because his mother loved it so much. And so, now it is one of my favorites too.
Xander begins walking back toward me, crooking his finger in a come-hither motion that has me melting against his strong, protective body. Given that my stomach is the size of a house, we aren’t altogether successful when he tries to hold me in front, so he sidesteps behind me and instructs me to back up. I playfully slap at his arm when he makes the sound of a reversing, heavyweight lorry, but we soon fall into a contented silence. His whole-body wraps around my waist where he cradles our little one and begins to sway in time to the music. I cup his cheek and lay my other hand on top of his, feeling happy and warm against his chest. It begins to vibrate a little as he hums along to the song. His voice is deep and low, almost as gruff as Mark Knopffler’s singing.
“What are we going to do once we’re in England?” I whisper, giggling when he smiles against my skin and tickles my neck.
“Live happily ever after,” he mumbles, “have lots of sex.”
My giggle turns into a laugh, loud and free in the confines of our little cabin in the woods, where we can be openly in love with one another. Sex stopped at seven months, nearly four weeks ago when he felt too uncomfortable to do it with me. We’re both missing it, but to be fair, I can’t say I feel particularly sexy at the moment.
“What shall we call this little one?” I ask, rubbing his hand, which is still lying on top of my belly.
“Xander, if it’s a boy; Beth, if it’s a girl,” he relies, shrugging against me as if this is a given.
“How original!” I reply sarcastically. “I kind of liked my grandmother’s name, Rosalie, but it’s ok if you don’t.”
“Hmmm, no, I like it!” he says decidedly and seals it with a kiss to my cheek. “Course, you know it will be a boy now that we have a name for a girl.”
“Well, I’ll leave that one up to you then,” I grin smugly, “I came up with the girl’s name!”
“As long as he or she is healthy, and so are you, I don’t mind!”
His words have me turning to face him, where we kiss for a long time in the soft glow of our bedroom light. It’s providing the only luminosity as it shines through into the living room where we remain swaying to the guitar solo.
The sun isn’t even beginning to come up when we wake to the sound of Xander’s shrill alarm clock. I mutter a curse of some sort to him, even though I know he only wants to leave this early so he can get back to me within two days. I cuddle his pillows when he climbs out to go and shower before getting dressed. I end up snoozing for another half an hour before he nudges me to say that he’s leaving. Last night he had packed the car, only to then unpack it and declare he wasn’t going. After a pointed look and a tantrum from yours truly, he finally relented and loaded it up again, only this time, he had to listen to me laughing over his ridiculousness.
Now that he’s kissing me goodbye, part of me wishes I had kept my big mouth shut and let him stay with me. However, it is what it is, and I know he needs to see Casey, even if I’m now left feeling cold and lonely as I watch him drive away. A shiver of fear runs through me just as the wind catches my raggedy hair, still unbrushed after sleep. I indulge in the uncomfortable feeling for a moment or two, staring at the empty space where the car was just sat. Before my tears can hit me, I force myself to go inside and begin my usual morning routine.
When I put the TV on, I purposefully choose something comical and light-hearted; something I won’t have to think too carefully about. I then boil the kettle, as well as readying a mug and teabag to make a large brew for myself, smiling when I think about Xander’s repulsed reaction whenever I offer him a cup. I know he hates it, but I can’t help myself.
While the teabag sits in the steaming mug of water, releasing swirls of amber dye, I take the opportunity to have my sixth pee of the day. My ever-growing stomach has been feeling tight and painful, no doubt the cause of baby Fenton kicking, or lying against my bladder. The release is almost orgasmic, but when I wipe, I see distinct spots of blood, all bright red and contrasting starkly against the whiteness of the toilet paper. My mouth drops open in shock as I stare at it, stupidly hoping that if I look hard enough, it won’t be there anymore.
Getting over the horror of seeing blood where it shouldn’t be, I eventually shake it off and decide to go and check it out in one of Carol’s antenatal books. Of course, all they tell me to do is phone my physician if there is any kind of bleeding. Something I positively cannot do without alerting my former psychotic fiancé of my whereabouts. So, with that in mind, I ignore this advice and read on, hoping to find something more useful and reassuring.
The book talks about having a ‘show’ and explains that this is what I had read about last night; the ghastly description of the ‘mucus plug’ coming free in the lead up to labor. I inwardly panic, telling myself that it’s far too early and that giving birth without Xander is a hard pass.
Grabbing my phone, I scroll through my contacts, most of which I haven’t used in months, but when I find Xander’s name flashing up at me, I falter. If I call him, he’ll only come back, and it could be for nothing. Surely, it’s better to call Carol and get some professional advice before stopping him in his tracks, so that’s exactly what I do. Only when I call her, no one picks up.
I try another two times before I put it back down and begin chewing anxiously on my thumbnail.
“Tea, Beth,” I say out loud, “just have some tea, watch daytime crap, then try again!”
After watching two reruns ofFriends, I give Carol another try, while chanting a little ‘pick up, pick up’ song inside of my head, like it will somehow influence her response.
“Hi, Beth,” she finally answers, sounding rather out of breath, “sorry, I was running. What’s up? Are you ok?”
“Er, well, it’s probably nothing, but I’m kind of bleeding,” I tell her with a wince. Saying it out loud makes it sound even worse than it did inside of my head. “And Xander has gone to see his sister in hospital for a few days, so I’m here…alone.”
“Right, I’m on my way!” she says in such a way, it instantly makes me feel even more anxious. “Don’t do anything strenuous, just sit tight.”
“Should I be worried?” I gasp, chewing on my thumbnail again. “I don’t want to call Xander and take him away from his sister, but should I?”
“Ultimately, that’s your call,” she replies rather unhelpfully, “but I can always come over and assess the situation first.”
“Ok, yeah, let’s do that then,” I nod, feeling much better with a plan in place.
“I’m going to be about an hour,” she informs me, sounding like she’s begun running again, “try not to worry. Grab a book and lie down or watch some TV or something. I’ll be there as soon as I can, ok?”