Marx Girl

The blood drains from my face. “Yep, all of them.” I sit forward and put my head into my hands. “This is a fucking disaster,” I whisper.

“Why is it? You’re engaged, you’re with the right guy. You have a house and are both financially stable. Why is this a disaster? It seems pretty perfect to me.”

I stare at her.

She smiles as she takes my hand and squeezes it. “This is a gift, Didge. This baby is your gift. Ben’s going to be a daddy. You get to grow Ben’s baby inside of you.”

I smile softly as the first glimmer of excitement peeks through.

“He’ll make a great dad,” I whisper.

She puts her arm around me and pulls me to her. “And you’ll make a great mum. This little baby is going to be so loved.”

I smile, despite my unshed tears, and nod.

“But I’m never babysitting,” she whispers, breaking the serious moment.

I giggle. That is such an Abbie thing to say.

“You’re going to be fine, and this is all in the grand plan of how your life goes. Nothing happens by accident, Didge.”

I hug her. “You’re so wise for a sneaky slut.” I smile against her hair.

She laughs out loud and then shakes her head. “My slut circle is shrinking.” She widens her eyes. “Fast.”

The nights are the worst.

I lie in the dark and worry about Ben. I glance at the clock and it’s 3:00 a.m. What time is it there? I do the maths. They’re nine hours behind us, so it’s 4:00 p.m. yesterday. It was cold there yesterday, hitting a maximum of 5 degrees.

Is he warm enough?

Has he slept?

Is he safe?

I get a vision of him wearing his army camouflage gear, in a dusty, cold dessert, and I hear machine-gun fire, and my heart constricts.

He’s a hero.

My hero.

What must he be going though right now? I think back to me crying like a baby and begging him not to go, and I’m so fucking annoyed at myself. He had to ask for me to be an army wife and hold it together until he got home.

I shouldn’t have put that burden on him.

I should have been stronger… for him. I know he’ll be over there worrying about me now.

Damn it, why am I such a cry baby?

I put my hand down on my stomach and I smile. Our baby, our baby is living inside of me and I just desperately want to tell him.

The more I’ve gotten used to the idea, the more I think he’s going to be excited.

I’m going to go the doctor in the morning to find out my due date, and I think I’ll push ahead and book in a wedding date, too. I want to get married before I’m showing. Ben did say he didn’t care about any of the details, just as long as I was there. He told me to book whatever I wanted.

I smile. That’s such a Ben thing to say. He never has been a fussy details man.

He couldn’t care less about the semantics.

I get up and turn on the light, getting my diary out.

Six weeks from now makes it late December, and then everyone could stay in Australia for Christmas.

Yes, it makes sense to do it then. Let’s do this. I dial Adrian’s number, despite the time. It’s one good thing about being on the other side of the world from him. He’s always awake when I’m supposed to be asleep.

“Hey, babe.” He smiles down the phone.

“Hi.” I smile. “You sound happy.”

“Ah, yeah, I am. Why are you awake, though?”

“I’m just…” I frown as I try to articulate my thoughts.

“He’s going to be okay, Didge,” he interrupts.

Poor Adrian had to deal with me crying all the way to Australia. He then spent the night with me before he had to turn around and fly straight back because he had to work.

He is the most beautiful friend I could ever ask for.

“I know,” I whisper. I don’t want this to turn into a whining session. Poor Adrian, he must be sick of me.

“I was thinking that I might book the wedding for six-weeks’ time. That would make it around late December. Does that suit you to come home for Christmas?”

“Of course it does.” He pauses for a moment. “I think we’re all going to Kamala for January, anyway, aren’t we?”

I nod. “That’s right. We could maybe fly from here together.”

I smile as I imagine my first Christmas with Ben and our growing baby. It’s going to be so special.

“So, the wedding…” he continues. “What do you want to wear?”

“I don’t know.” I think for a moment. “I might just look around a bit.”

“Yeah, okay; I’ll look, too.” He thinks for a second. “Traditional?”

I twist my mouth. “I don’t know. Maybe if it’s a fitted traditional style.” Hmm, I wonder whether or not I’ll be showing at all in six weeks. Maybe I should wear something looser, just in case.