Page 141 of Until Now

I’m doing the dishes when I get the call.

It’s the middle of a normal day. The day after Boxing Day. I put all my presents away today, and I ate breakfast, and I took a shower. I didn’t expect my life to fall apart on a mundane Tuesday evening, with the sound of merriment in the street below the apartment reaching through the window. I didn’t expect my food to taste so good, or for Archer to wrap his arms around me from behind and breatheI love youagainst my neck.

I go still. Completely still, suspended between everything being okay and my world shattering apart. And all it will take to cross that threshold is answering that call.

My eyes flit to the screen and I see her name light it up: Jan. So I stand there, the plate falling from my slackened fingers and shattering on the floor, existing in this Between where he’s still alive. Where it hasn’t been spoken into truth.

I’m not sure what part of me breaks first. My heart or my lungs or my mind or my legs or my knees, but I sink to the floor. I’m vaguely aware of Archer rushing over, but I can’t move.

I want to stay in this Between forever.

Chapter Thirty-One

There’s Nothing Beautiful About Someone Dying

The only funeral I’ve been to is Demi’s, and I hated it.

Not that you’re supposed to like funerals, anyway. But the worst part was watching people mourn. Watching the loved ones of the dead cry and sob and hug each other, and seeing it unfold, not feeling a damn thing. When the grief isn’t your own, there’s nothing to do but offer sympathy, even if you don’t feel it in your heart. I held Archer that day as he fell apart. Even his mum was distant from him, but that’s another thing about grief: you can’t grieve for everyone as well as yourself.

My dad’s funeral is a lot like Demi’s in that regard: a lot of crying, a lot of condolences, stories shared by Kevin’s old bike friends. There’re laughs, too, as we rememberwhat a great person my dad is—was. But these people… they knew a different version of my dad. They didn’t watch him wither away before their eyes, they didn’t change the bedsheets or make him tea. No one even kept in contact with him, but apparently, he made a list of everyone he wanted here.

Georgia and Ian were able to front the expenses for their daughter’s funeral. I think they even had her casket pulled by a horse and cart. But my dad had very little savings, and despite my mum and I putting together what we could afford, the funeral is very basic. There are no wreaths or horses, and there certainly isn’t a blue coffin.

Simple. Just as my dad wished.

We did play his favourite song, though, and that was the only moment I allowed myself to cry as I remembered how much he loved that song. How he’d sing it almost every time we went out in his car. I regret now how much it annoyed me at the time; I’d give anything to hear his voice again, for him to pick up the phone when I called. I’d give anything to hear his stupid stories.

Nothing is for my dad. Not the eulogies or the pretty flowers or even the leather-clad bikers—old friends of Kevin’s. As much as I want to believe it, and as much as the thought gives me solace, my dad isn’t here anymore. He’s gone, just like Demi.

And the biggest lie is making us believe funerals have any meaning outside of making us feel better.

At least I can go on knowing I told my dad how much I loved him.

We honoured his wish of a burial, but in lieu of a cat cemetery, we got him a small cat ornament. A sleeping cat. Resting with him.

Despite my silent reassurances, it doesn’t lessen the blow. I haven’t stopped feeling sick since Jan’s call two weeks ago, and I’ve barely kept any food down, and I’ve been napping constantly.

But then, that’s probably due to the life growing inside of me.

I knew I was pregnant when I couldn’t stop crying at the same animal rescue advert, when I couldn’t walk down the stairs without my boobs hurting, when I needed to pee every half hour during the night. I’m not sure when I conceived, but I remember missing the pill a couple times over Christmas because I had other things on my mind.

I just knew my body. I knew what it was telling me.

I’ve never been maternal, but as soon as I saw the two lines on the pregnancy test, my whole world shifted to revolve around the life inside me. Georgia was right: things do change when you’re pregnant. I’ve started to resent Archer even more, my hand involuntarily flying up to my stomach when he raises his voice at me. I eat nutritious foods, ensuring my hand is on my belly when I’m lying down to keep it warm. I know it’s ridiculous because it’s literally a blob, but… mother’s instinct, I guess.

I’m not keeping it. As much as I want to, I can’t afford to raise a child. I won’t force an innocent baby to endure Archer’s wrath—not after seeing how Archer’s own upbringing has messed him up. And not just that, but—what if I change my mind about going to college? I know there’s help out there for young mothers, but I don’t want a baby to depend entirely on me when I haven’t even lived yet.

I’ve already contacted a clinic. I changed my mind so many times, picking up the phone and putting it down multiple times before I decided. I haven’t even told Archer. I’m not sure what he’d say. I should tell him—after all, it’s his child as much as it is mine. But I’ve made my choice, and something tells me he’d want to keep it. If only to ensure I’m too tied down with looking after it to leave the house. He’d know exactly where I am all the time. And what if he continued to bring his friends round? What if they sniffed and drank and smoked around this innocent child?

No way.

I care about this baby too much to put it through that.

‘Beautiful ceremony, wasn’t it?’ says a gentle voice beside me.

I try to discreetly wipe my tears before I face her. ‘There’s nothing beautiful about someone dying.’

My mum purses her lips. The only thing about her that’s changed is her hair; she’s cut it to her shoulders in a sleek black bob. Black enough to hide the grey hairs I know poke into her roots. ‘Your father wouldn’t have wanted you to cry.’