Double Lines

I stared at my period app, trying to calculate how many weeks pregnant I could possibly be. The thing is, I’m useless when it comes to logging in my period details. If I did, I would have known when I was most fertile.

I think I’m eight weeks pregnant… which means I’m two months along. I need to make an appointment to see my doctor, but Melina, the only one who knows I’m pregnant, is away on her two-week honeymoon. She’s not due back till just before Christmas. Which means I have to confide in someone else… but who?

I don’t have to scroll far through my numbers after I decide who to call.

“Well, hello, snob,” my best friend Cassie answers.

“Hi, Cass. How are you?” I ask.

“I’m good. How are you? How’s life with the big young boss?” she asks. I smile. That’s the name Xavier; her brother called Ethan when he worked with him. Of course, being my best friend, Cassie knows that Ethan is Tyler’s father and that Ethan asked me to marry him. But I’ve been too busy with the wedding and work to catch up with her.

“He’s good. Working. He showed us his house a few weeks ago. We’re officially moving in together,” I tell her, a smile on my face.

“I knew it. So… Lincoln owns a house? When he lived here, he had an apartment,” Cassie muses.

“Did he? How do you know?” I tease. This is a running joke between Cassie and me- regarding who knows Ethan the longest. I won, having met him at university. Although I’m sure Cass knows him better than I do, as Xavier worked for him.

“What else is new?” Cassie asks after our laughter dies down.

“I’m pregnant,” I tell her.

“You’re what? Congratulations! I hope you have a girl this time. Not that there’s anything wrong with Tyler. When are you due?” she asks.

“I’m not sure. I have to make an appointment to see the doctor. But I haven’t got around to that yet,” I admit.

“My Mikaela. Ever the procrastinator. What does Lincoln think?” she asks.

“I haven’t told him yet,” I admit.

“You what? Why not?”

“I want it to be a surprise,” I tell her. And then I tell her what I’ve got planned.

“Oh, I’d love to be there. Hey Mick, I need to go… my boss is calling me on my work mobile,” Cassie admits.

“Okay, I’ll call you later,” I tell her.

“Yup. Don’t be a snob, snob,” she tells me, laughing. Cassie hangs up on me, and I sigh. I was going to tell her about Noah suing me, but now that she’s working as a solicitor, she’s always busy. She tells me she loves her job but has little room for a social life.

I decided to make an appointment to see the doctor on Friday this week to plan my healthcare for my pregnancy. I hear Ethan come up the stairs, and I put my phone down on the bedside table and wait for him in our room.

“Hey, beautiful. What are you doing here?” Ethan asks, kissing my forehead as he sits beside me on our bed.

“I just wanted to make some phone calls,” I admit.

“Yeah, who did you call?” he asked.

“Cassie,” I smile.

“Oh! How is she? How is Xave?”

“She’s good. I’m not sure about Xavier. Her boss called her so she had to go. How about you? How was work?” I asked.

“Good, good. Are you still okay seeing the lawyer tomorrow?” Ethan asks.

“Yeah. I took the day off, but I’m really nervous,” I admit. Ethan had organised with Adele’s father, a solicitor, to have one of his lawyers represent me.

“We’ll be fine. We have all the right documents. It’ll be a blip case. Less than a blip case,” Ethan tells me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me towards him so I’m lying on his chest.

“Okay,” I sigh, placing my hand on his stomach as I cuddle him, his scent calming me.

//\\\///\\\//\\

“Mr Johnson, Noah Robertson’s lawyer, has asked for the meeting at his law firm. Are we okay with that?” Ian Dunlop, our solicitor, asks.

“Yes, although I won’t be there with her,” Ethan replies grumpily. Noah’s lawyer wants me and my lawyer to meet with him and Noah for an Assisted Dispute Resolution. Ian explained that this means we meet together in an attempt to come up with a settlement or compromise before going along the route of going to court.

I nod but don’t feel sure, and tears pool in my eyes. Bloody hormones.

“No, you’re not okay,” Ian notes, looking at me.

“I’m just worried. What if he gets nasty? What if…” I begin. I feel Ethan grab my fist and squeeze, calming me down.

“It’s okay to be upset, Miss Carter. It’s also okay to worry. But I work for the best law firm in Brunswick. Mr. Bird hand-selected me for this case. It’ll be a cakewalk. Okay?”

“Okay,” I nod.

“Well, I’ll see you next week at Armstrong Lawyers. Ten o’clock sharp. Thank you for coming today,” Ian says, standing up and shaking Ethan and I’s hands.

“Thank you again,” Ethan smiles. We walk out of the building, and Ethan takes my hand before squeezing it.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. Just hungry.”

“Well then, let’s go get some lunch,” Ethan says, pressing the button for the elevator down.

The week went by slowly, and try as I might, sleeping was nearly impossible. My mind keeps tracking back to Noah and him suing me. And I can’t help but feel like it’s unfair. Tyler’s not his, but of course, he wants proof. Maybe I should have shown him a picture of Tyler so he could see that my son looks nothing like him, but Tyler’s my child. I have the right to keep his information private.

On Thursday, I took Tyler to playgroup, where Sofia fussed that she couldn’t possibly set up work for the kids to do as she was so big and pregnant. Yup, that’s right, Sofia is pregnant. With twins, apparently! Well, her stomach is big enough to support that claim. That might sound nasty, but instead, she’s demanding that we pick up the slack and organise activities for the kids. It just makes us all groan.

“Tara, did you bring some colouring in sheets for the kids?” Sofia asks, sitting down and joining us as we relax by the outdoor coffee table chatting.

“No. I was busy,” Tara explains, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I can’t be expected to organise everything, now, can I?” Sofia complains, rubbing her belly.

“Sore?” I ask Sofia, who nods.

“I swear they enjoy kicking my ribs. What about you, Mikaela? Could you find something Christmassy for the kids to do? You are a teacher, are you not?”

“Look, Sofia. I do things like that as my day job. When I’m here, I just want to relax and watch Tyler have fun,” I complain.

“Well, Emily enjoys colouring in and cutting and pasting. You could at least print extra stuff from work and bring them in. It wouldn’t be that hard, would it?” Sofia asks sweetly. I snort.

“When you can get Emily to sit down for five seconds, all she does is scribble on the paper with one colour if she holds the crayon right. As for cutting, I think she needs to see an OT; her fine motor skills need work,” I bite.

Sofia gasps, and both Angela and Hala tell me off.

“What? She wanted my expertise. I gave it to her,” I shrug. I’m in a foul mood, thank you, pregnancy hormones, and quite frankly, I’ve had enough of Sofia’s attitude.

“Mum! Emily hit me!” Axel calls, running over to Tara and giving her a hug.

“A behaviour specialist might also help. Your daughter is a bully,” I state.

“Mikaela!” Hala says again.

“What? Axel, what were you doing when Emily hit you?” I ask. Axel looks at me, tears running down his face.

“I was playing with the Barbie dolls, and she hit me and told me Barbies were for girls,” Axel explains, stuttering as he speaks.

“Well, we wouldn’t want him to turn out gay, would we?” Sofia smiles.

“Yeah, we were pretending they were soldiers and making them fight!” Jaydon, Angela’s son, adds.

“I think Emily should apologise,” Tara comments.

“Seriously? They’re kids! The one who should be apologising is Mikaela!”

I shake my head and look at Tara.

“Who wants to join Tyler and me at McDonalds for lunch? My shout?” I ask.

“Yes!” Both Jayden and Axel cry out. Tara and Angela smile at me and nod.

“Let’s go!” I say, standing up.

“But what about activities for the kids here?” Sofia asks. I ignore her as I gather Tyler and head for the gate.

On Friday, I went to the doctor to confirm my pregnancy, which she did, and then she referred me to a radiologist for an ultrasound. I rang them later and made an appointment for after New Year’s, as they would be closed for three weeks over the holiday period.

With two weeks left of the school year, things were winding down. My reports were finished, and our only task was the Christmas Concert, which we were practising daily.

In the second to last week of the term, I took Wednesday off for this Assisted Dispute Resolution meeting. I felt guilty, as there is still a teacher shortage and finding casuals is difficult, especially in Special Education, but I had no choice. Thank you, Noah.

“How do I look?” I ask Ethan as he walks into our room.

“Beautiful,” Ethan tells me.

“Really? I could be wearing a potato sack, and you’d still tell me I look beautiful,” I retort.

“But you do. You look like a sexy librarian that I just want to rip the clothes off,” he tells me. I shake my head. I look like a teacher; that’s what I look like. I’m wearing a blue-white and grey checked pencil skirt with a dark blue blouse and blazer. My hair is tied in a low bun, and I made my makeup natural-looking.

“Are you ready?” Ethan asks, wrapping his hand around my back. I nod.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand and walking us out of the room.

“What’s that?” Ethan asks as he notices me squeezing something in my hand.

“A stress ball, I borrowed it from work,” I reply.

“You stole it, you mean?”

“No. Borrowed. Stealing would imply never giving it back. Plus, Paula gave it to me for today, so I’m allowed,” I state. I look over to Ethan and see that he has a slight smile. Paula may be my teacher’s aide, but she’d make one fine good teacher, and she can be pretty bossy when she needs to be.

It’s not a far drive to Noah’s lawyer’s firm. When we arrive, we meet the receptionist on the bottom floor, who directs us to the third floor of the building.

Ian smiles when he sees us walking towards him.

“Judge Hannah Smith will be presiding over today’s meeting. She is well-versed in family law, so we will be well-supported. Mr. Robertson has already arrived and is inside with his lawyer. Do you have any questions?” Ian asks. I shake my head and begin to say no.

“Am I late?” I ask.

“No, we’re ten minutes early,” Ethan answers. Ian nods.

“All right. This should be really quick. Remember to let me do all the talking unless asked questions directly. Okay?”

“Okay,” I agree. I look at Ethan, who smiles and kisses my forehead.

“I’ll be right here, waiting,” he tells me. I nod. I wish he could come in with me, but we agreed it would be more effective if he weren’t. The plan was to let Noah’s lawyer show all their cards before we showed ours.

I hesitate and follow Ian into the room. It’s small, with a rectangular table in the middle and a woman older than Mum and Melina sitting at the head. Noah sits on one side with his lawyer, and I sit opposite him. Noah smiles when he sees me, but I look at the table instead.

“My name is Judge Hannah Smith. I will be mediating today. Who do we have here?” Judge Smith asks, looking over her glasses at us.

“Albert Johnson from Armstrong Solicitors, and this is my client, Mr Noah Robertson,” Noah’s lawyer starts.

“Ian Dunlop, Dutton, Bird and Lynch. This is my client, Miss Mikaela Carter,” Ian replies. The Judge nods and flicks through the files before her.

“Mr Robertson, how do you know Mr Dunlop’s client, Miss Carter?” Judge Smith asks.

“We dated four years ago for four years. Before that, we were family friends and grew up together. Our families live on the same street,” Noah explains, smiling at me.

“Is this true, Miss Carter?” Judge Smith asks. I nod in response.

“And what is it that you do, Mr Robertson?”

“I’m an accountant for Walls and Green. An accounting firm in Lewisham,” Noah explains.

“And you, Miss Carter?”

“I am a special education teacher at Brunsvale Heights Public School,” I reply. Judge Smith looks at me and smiles.

“My son has Down Syndrome and is non-verbal,” Judge Smith comments. I smile at her. Typically, Down-Syndrome children are stubborn. We have a student with Down Syndrome in one of our classes. Her name is Tiana.

Judge Smith clears her throat and then turns to Noah’s solicitor.

“Why are we here today, Mr Johnson?”

“My client, Noah Robertson, is seeking custody of his son Miss Carter has kept from him, following a positive paternity test. Once the paternity test is confirmed, Mr Robertson also seeks compensation for four years of not knowing about his son, at one hundred thousand dollars per year. He is also suing for all legal costs resulting from this case,” Mr Johnson replies smugly.

Judge Smith looks at me from above her glasses.

“Is this true, Miss Carter, you kept Mr Robertson’s son from him for four years?” she asks. I look at Ian, who has a blank face.

“Miss Carter has stated that her son is not biologically Mr Robertson and has told Mr Robertson as much,” Ian replies.

“Mr Robertson notes that their son is almost four years old, hence requesting a paternity test to be taken. However, Miss Carter has refused,” Mr Johnson replies.

“Hmm. What are your client’s counterclaims, Mr Dunlop?” Judge Smith asks.

“Miss Carter denies that her son, Tyler, is related to Mr Robertson. She countersues for legal fees, your honour,” Ian tells her.

“According to the facts presented towards me, Miss Carter had a child four years ago, which Mr Robertson claims as his. Mr Robertson would like custody over this child, including compensation for missing out on four years of the child’s life. Miss Carter disputes this claim and wants all legal fees paid for. Is this correct?” Judge Smith asks.

“Yes, Your Honour,” Both solicitors reply.

“Mr Robertson, you live in a different city to Miss Carter. Would I be wrong to assume you would be requesting full custody?” Judge Smith asks Noah.

“No, Ma’am. You are correct. I want full custody,” Noah replies, smiling at me. I keep my face blank and continue to squeeze my stress ball.

“And Miss Carter, why have you not agreed to a paternity test to clear the air?”

I look over at Noah, who looks smug.

“Because Noah is not Tyler’s father,” I state, not flinching when Noah scowls.

“I would like to present our documented proof at this time,” Ian says, handing the Judge a copy of Tyler’s paternity test and updated birth certificate. Judge Smith pushes her glasses up her nose to read the papers before her. She’s long-sighted, I muse as I watch.

“Well,” Judge Smith sighs, looking up from the sheets of paper. She looks over at me and then at Noah.

“Mr Robertson, sometimes you must listen when a woman tells you something important. According to this paternity test and birth certificate in my hands, you are one-hundred percent unable to be the father of Miss Carter’s child,” Judge Smith states.

“What? That’s impossible! Who? Who is the father of your child Mikaela? The paternity test must be wrong!” Noah yells, standing up and slamming his hands on the table.

“Sit down, Mr Robertson! My goodness!” Judge Smith scolds.

“May I?” Mr Johnson asks, indicating the information Ian gave the Judge. I nod.

“Who is the father?” Noah asks, beginning to look broken.

“Lincoln Rosebank,” Mr Johnson replies, handing Noah the sheets. Noah’s face goes white as he reads them.

“Who is Lincoln Rosebank?” Noah asks me. I just shake my head. If he hasn’t worked it out, so be it.

“Now for my judgement,” Judge Smith says after a pause.

“Mr Robertson, you are to pay Miss Carter ten thousand dollars in compensation for stress and all legal fees.”

Noah nods glumly, and he looks like he’s going to cry.

“Oh, and Mr Robertson?” Judge Smith states when she stands.

“Off the record, if you ever get a lawyer from Dutton, Bird and Lynch on the defendant’s side when you’re the plaintiff, you better watch out.”

Ian and Mr. Johnson shake the Judge’s hand as they say goodbye while Noah stands there, hands in his pockets and looking at his feet. I shake my head, bow at the Judge before I leave, and head for the door.

“Mikaela!” Noah says, grabbing my arm as we’re halfway through.

“Noah! Did you bow to the Judge before we left?” I whisper yell.

“Nah- no?” Noah replies, looking confused.

“It’s correct etiquette. Did your solicitor tell you nothing? And don’t touch me!” I seethe. I turn and head for Ethan, who is standing across the room, talking on his phone. I just want him to enwrap me in his arms and breathe in his scent so I can calm down.

“Okay. Done. Can we talk?” Noah asks, coming up to me.

“No!” I reply tersely.

“Haven’t you already done enough?” Ethan asks, walking over to me.

“Who are you? Hey… aren’t you, Ethan?” Noah asks, recognising him.

“I go by my proper name now. Lincoln Rosebank. I’m also Mikaela’s fiancée, so I’d appreciate it if you stepped away,” Ethan replies.

“I really fucked up, didn’t I?” Noah says, shaking his head.

- edited