Love to Hate You: Three's a Crowd

Chapter Eleven - Trick or Treat?

It was Halloween weekend. Gruesome masks and devilish pumpkins adorned windows and door steps. Children ran around in fancy dress, and nightmares were on the horizon. Especially for Xander Sinclair, who was experiencing his worst nightmare come to life; a wait in the foyer of the sonography department of a maternity hospital.

'Are you alright?' Amy asked, because he looked rather peaky.

'Yes,' he replied tightly.

'Nervous?' He wasn't. Obviously, he wasn't relaxed, but he wasn't worried about the scan. He was too pragmatic for that. Statistics were on his side; he felt certain that their unborn baby was fine. What was bothering him was the sheer number of couples in the room. It was more cliquey than Strictly Come Dancing, and there were men sat beside women with their hands resting on their partner's bulging stomachs. There were doe-eyed looks between spouses; the mush relieved only by the odd single mother, looking rather grey and fearful. Xander didn't want to be one of those couples. That is to say, he didn't want to be part of a couple at all, but he didn't want Amy to end up looking like one of the lonely single mothers, either.

'I'm fine.' Which, because he was not a woman, meant "I don't want to talk about my feelings" instead of, "F*ck off and die!". Amy knew this. She was tempted to let him off with a shrug of acceptance, and yet she was not fine, either.

'I'm nervous,' she sighed. 'I keep thinking that something is going to be wrong with the baby.' She looked to Xander with an anxious expression. 'I spent years thinking I was infertile. All this,' pointing to her abdomen, 'feels like such a miracle... I just feel as though something is bound to go wrong; that I can't really be this lucky.' Xander took pity on her. It was easier to be a normal human being when he had someone else's problems to deal with, instead of his own. He was a successful business consultant; often brought in to help failing companies restructure, or growing ones overcome the difficulties of expanding. Problems were logical. Not emotional. He was an expert at Not Emotional.

'I read that the chance of a significant birth defect is roughly nought-point-five percent.'

'That's not actually that low,' Amy challenged. 'And I'm thirty-nine. The rate of birth defects in women my age is probably a lot higher.' She frowned. 'I'm an elderly primigravida.'

'Sounds like something you'd order in an Italian restaurant,' Xander quipped. 'Not the "Elderly" part, obviously.' His attempt at humour was not reassuring.

'I'm obviously mostly worried about there being no heartbeat, of course.'

'Of course,' Xander nodded, fearing that he couldn't honestly say the same, because the thought of caring for a sick child was a lot more frightening than the thought of no child.

It was after what felt like an interminable wait, but what was probably only twenty minutes, that they were called through for their ultrasound; Amy looking anxious but excited.

'I'm Sarah,' the sonographer said, smiling at them.

'Amy, but you know that – from my file,' Amy said, wittering with nerves.

'You lie here, make yourself comfortable. Dad, if you could sit there; it'll leave room for me to move about, but you'll still have a good view of the screen.' It was said innocently; a throwaway word, used for convenience because she didn't know Xander's name, but Christ! Someone had just called him "Dad". He was mortified. He thought he might vomit.

'Oh, it's warm!' Amy exclaimed, as Sarah dolloped a splodge of jelly on her bare stomach.

'We aim to please,' Sarah smiled, 'although it does seem to get everywhere, so I hope you didn't wear your best clothes.' They were chatting away as though they were friends meeting for afternoon tea; as though Sarah wasn't about to hand them both a life sentence. Probably because she wasn't. At least, not as far as anyone but Xander was concerned.