#METOO
Nicole thrust the phone towards her friend. ‘What’s this?’
Charmaine, looked away.
‘You told Darren, didn’t you?’ Her usually plump lips stretched thin, forming a hard line. ‘I said not to, and now you’ve done it anyway.’ She locked her arms crossways and spun away.
The tale-teller, looked back through a waterfall of sleek hair, her face red. ‘It just slipped out.’
‘I bet it did.’
‘It’s been ages and you hadn’t said a thing. I thought it’d help.’
‘You haven’t a clue.’ Fingernails, unnoticed, dug into the soft flesh of Nicole’s biceps.
‘He has a right.’
She spun back. ‘You think?’
‘Well, he is the father, isn’t he?’
‘And what if he isn’t? Huh?’
A small gasp, more like a squeak, slipped from Charmaine’s mouth. ‘What are you saying? Darren? Darren’s not the dad?’
‘Well he is now. After that message. On cloud nine.’ Nicole put a thumbnail to her mouth, then spat it back out, before examining it for signs of damage.
‘But how can you not be sure?’
Nicole closed her eyes. A muscle twitched along her jawline as she remembered the frantic calculations; days and dates so slippery, she was forced to count using her fingers.
Her friend’s voice cut in. ‘You’re not going to tell him, are you?’
Nicole stepped forward, her pretty face contorted and grey. ‘I didn’t know if I even wanted to keep it. Now that option’s been whipped away.’
‘What are you saying? Abortion? I can’t believe you’d do something like that.’ Charmaine’s tone had risen half an octave.
‘So bugger off, then. The damage’s been done anyway.’
‘And what do I say to Darren when I see him next? Congratulations? Or tell him the truth.’
‘And you know what that is, do you?’
She thrust her chin forward. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
‘Go on, then. Surprise me.’
‘Jayden. I’ve seen you with him, batting your eyelashes.’
Nicole blinked twice, a fist pressing rhythmically into her lips. ‘I wasn’t flirting,’ she murmured, ‘I was having a laugh.’ Memories flared and throbbed in her mind’s eye. The pump of bass, dry bubbles on the tongue, the way her silky top slid across her torso as she shimmied. His eyes, not her boyfriend’s eyes, penetrating, daring eyes, never leaving her face unless … She knew how to make the fabric slip and pucker revealing skin, a peek of breast. The thrill had made her stomach plummet and much more. Her smile had grown wider, her vision soft and wobbly at the edges. It’d been a laugh, a cracking night out, testing her appeal after months of faithful familiarity. Nothing serious, nothing suggested. He’d known she was Darren’s girl, hadn’t he? He was the kind of bloke who took ‘no’ for an answer, wasn’t he?
‘Knew it! It’s Jayden. My Jayden. We’d be together if it wasn’t for you, throwing yourself at him when Darren’s not there.’
‘Don’t …’
‘Don’t, what? Oh, I know what this is. You want them both, don’t you?’
‘He’s ….’
‘Oh, for God’s sake. Spit it out.’
‘He’s not …’ The silence expanded.
‘He’s not, what? The father? There’s someone else?’ Charmaine’s eyebrow arched theatrically.
‘He’s not …’ Nicole dipped her head.
‘Is that the best you can do? Don’t bother. You know real friends talk. They share things. Do what you like with Darren but stay away from Jayden. He’s mine now.’ Her accuser swept out of the room.
A cold, rush of air. Heavy arm around her shoulder. The smell of rotting rubbish; water gushing through drainpipes; leather pressed against her mouth; hard cobblestones under her knees. She swallowed, eyes moist, remembering, feeling again, the soreness and shame.
Nicole sank into a chair, drawing her knees to her chest. ‘He’s not a nice man, Charmaine,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Not a nice man at all.’
THE END