Page 67 of Close to You

‘Yes.’

‘But we haven’t…’

‘That night before you went away a month ago.’

He nods, but he’s dazed, like he’s staring into the sun. It’s not like he could have forgotten that night.

‘Are you sure?’ he asks.

‘About when it happened?’

‘About whether you’re pregnant.’

I wasn’t sure how David would respond – but this is probably the one question I didn’t expect.

‘There are pregnancy test kits in the bin under the sink if you want to check. I’ve peed on them, though.’

He takes a breath, steps backwards, steps forward, scratches his arm, then pulls up his trousers. All the while, he never stops staring – and he doesn’t put down the knife.

I get to my feet and cross to the counter. It’s all that separates us.

‘I thought this was what you wanted,’ I say.

David shakes his head slowly and it’s now that I notice the tears that ring his eyes: ‘It’s not mine, is it?’

‘Why would you say that?’

His tone is firm and unerringly knowing. ‘Tell me.’

‘Tell you what?’

‘Whose it is?’

‘It’s yours.’

The knife wavers in his hand, but then he grips it tighter. I can see the veins bulging in his arm as he squeezes the handle.

‘I had a vasectomy,’ he says, looking up to catch my eye and hang onto it.

‘What?’ I say, stumbling. ‘When?’

‘Before the engagement party.’

I remember him limping around the room at the rugby club because of what he said was a running injury. It didn’t sound right at the time – but so much of what David says doesn’t sound right. I figured it was another white lie to disguise something unimportant – now it couldn’t be more important.

‘I’ve never wanted children,’ he adds flatly. His stare is stone cold, a different person from the man who gazed longingly at me along the wedding aisle.

‘It wasyouridea to try for a child!’ I say. ‘When we were on the bridge,youbrought it up.’

It’s as if a switch has been flicked as, suddenly, I get it. It’s like minor politicians promising policies they’ll never have to implement because they have zero chance of winning an election. It was easy for David to suggest us having a baby because he knew it wouldn’t work. As long as we were trying, we would be together. It gave a foundation to our marriage. Without that, perhaps there was no purpose for us as a couple. He knew I had doubts all along and this was his way of keeping me.

I’ve finally seen the truth – and he knows it.

‘How much of this is a lie?’ I ask.

‘You tell me.’

‘Me? This wholehave-a-baby-thingwas a trick to keep me with you. Like everything. The fake trips, the fact you and Ben were never good uni friends. I’m asking you how much of the last two years have been a lie?’