2022 WATTYS SHORTLISTED || After being forced into a marriage by her devoutly religious parents, Aspen's husband is diagnosed with a life-limiting illness, and she must find her purpose as well as fight feelings for her husband's nurse. || Aspen Wat...
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Two phrases pop into my mind after Nicholas says the words and one of them is one of my mother's favourites: 'You reap what you sow'. When I found out I was pregnant, I thought it was just the same as karma. But now, I can understand it. My Mum would tell me they used the phrase as a warning that everything you do carries a consequence. Staying pregnant meant that the consequence was getting married to stay out of sin. Having Gabriel adopted meant that we had a child out there somewhere, and we'd have that on our consciences. Joel's lies meant that Gabriel might have the disease.
Getting to know Nicholas means he would like me, despite my marital status. Getting to know him means that I'm constantly tempted. Giving Gabriel up means that his new family has to also deal with this awful disease.
The other phrase that pops into mind is 'when it rains, it pours' – not entirely biblical, but I always found it funny. Of course, when it rains, it pours. What else is going to happen? But now I get it fully – everything does always happen at once.
Joel's illness, Joel's lies, our marriage essentially falling apart because of the aforementioned: meeting Nicholas, his feelings coming out, and his adopted brother being my son. That's not forgetting the fact that Gabriel could also have his dad's disease.
"Aspen?"
When it rains, it pours. Not just about something bad happening, but also about the tears that bombard my eyes and fall like Niagara Falls.
"Here." He passes his napkin to me. "I know this... well, I can't imagine... you know what? I don't have words, but... I felt like you should know—"
"How is he?" I wipe my eyes, but the tears fall anyway.
"He's... he's good," Nicholas says. "The... Joel's news has taken my parents by surprise, as you can imagine."
I've never been hit, but I've seen plenty of fights on my way back from the nightclub at university with Joel after we gave Gabriel up for adoption.
We mainly wanted to enjoy our time, which had previously been overshadowed by the pregnancy and the wedding. We also wanted to drown our sorrows in ridiculous amounts of strong rum, lightheaded dancing, pulsating music, and blurred vision in a place where no one would remember our names the next morning, let alone our truth. I remember plenty of eighteen-year-olds outside on the streets, yelling at each other and throwing punches. I remember one boy; his punch had so much force behind it, the victim fell back like a weak punchbag. Later on, Joel and I both mentioned how we could hear the wind being knocked out of him.
That eighteen-year-old kid being beaten is me, right now.
"What does he look like?" I shouldn't be asking, but I want to know, anyway. He's not my son anymore. Nor is he my problem or responsibility. Gabriel's not mine. But why wouldn't I want to know? I don't regret giving him up for him. It's me that I regret it for.
