Page 63 of Bluebird

I groaned, pretending his presence wasn’t welcome. “Hey, Nate.”

“Mum and Dad were shitting themselves with worry over you.”

I raised my eyebrows. I saw how many times he called me before I finally texted him back.

“Well, I guess we all were,” he admitted, unusually serious. “So...drinking, huh? And I always thought I would be the first alcoholic in the family,” he continued with a laugh, and I smacked him over the head.

He jumped off the bed before I could do any more damage and ran out of my bedroom.

I lay in my childhood bed for a long while and wondered if it was possible to hide there the entire day. My parents would be waiting to see me downstairs though, so I took a long hot shower and pulled on some old jeans paired with a loose cotton shirt.

I was about to leave the bathroom, when a sharp pain shot through my side. I breathed through my discomfort, and it subsided as quickly as it appeared. I was beginning to wonder why women spoke so fondly of pregnancy. I was yet to see the bright side.

When I finally made it downstairs, Mum was cooking breakfast in the kitchen and my dad was reading the paper. Dad looked up and smiled when our eyes met. He folded up his paper and rose from his chair to greet me.

“I had to see it to believe it,” he said, pulling me into his embrace. It took my breath away.

“Hey, Dad,” I greeted, softly.

He kissed the top of my head. “Glad to have you home safe, sweetie.”

“Me too.” I smiled sadly, and stepped out of his arms before it got awkward.

“Now, I want you to eat before your mother makes me,” he ordered, with a cheeky glint in his eye. My dad hated eating breakfast. He preferred to simply wake up and get straight to work, without the distraction of my mum’s cooking. “I’m off to give Nathan a hand.”

I smiled at the realisation he was finally taking a step back from the farm and letting Nate take control.

Sitting down at the table, I opened the paper, not even thinking to avoid it. Just a few pages in, I discovered one had been ripped out. I glanced up at my mother and she shrugged indifferently.

“Thanks,” I whispered, genuinely appreciative. She offered me a simple nod and turned her attention back to frying eggs.

Mum plated up my breakfast and placed it in front of me. Normally a dish like that would’ve made my mouth water, but today it had an entirely different effect. Something stirred inside of me and it wasn’t good. I held my breath, hoping the feeling would pass, but it only got worse.

“Darling, are you alright? You look...green,” Mum said as she placed her hand on my shoulder.

I couldn’t take it any longer. With a hand over my mouth, I sprinted to the bathroom toilet and vomited.

When I returned to the kitchen, my mum wore a knowing smirk. I knew she had figured it out.

“So, how far along are we?” she asked, smugly.

I sighed. “About eight weeks.”

“And the father?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mum,” I dodged and thankfully, she didn’t bother to work out the timeline.

She nodded, sympathetically.

“And please don’t tell anyone…not yet.” I gazed up to meet her eyes, so she could see how serious I was.

“I won’t say a word. Not even to your father,” she said. “You’ll have to tell them eventually though, you won’t be able to hide it forever.”

“Yeah, I know,” I murmured. “I just need some time to get used to the idea, that’s all.”

“Oh my, I’m going to be a grandma,” she gushed.

“Mum!” I begged and she thankfully stopped, but the twinkle in her eye remained.