Redeeming 6: Boys of Tommen #4

JOEY

“JOE, it’s me, Shannon. I’m on the way to Dublin with the school. I won’t be back until late tonight. Can you tell Mam? He has my phone so don’t call it, okay? You won’t be able to get ahold of me, but I’m okay, Joe. Don’t worry about—’

I replayed the voicemail my sister left me for the third time and contemplated how the hell I was going to smooth this over at home.

Deleting the message from my phone, I slid my phone back into my pocket and ran a hand through my hair in frustration.

Mam was going to hit the roof.

The old man would blow a fuse if he found out.

“Maybe we should have changed our clothes,” Molloy whisper-hissed, drawing my attention back to the present.

We were sitting in an overcrowded waiting room at the maternity hospital, surrounded by heavily pregnant women and their husbands – any number of which could have been mistaken for our parents.

“It’s grand,” I replied, resting my hand on her bouncing knee. “I’ve got you, Molloy.”

“Yeah, Joe, that’s the point,” she mumbled. “Everyone here knows just how well you got me.”

I laughed because in all honesty what else could I do in this moment?

She wasn’t wrong.

We were sitting in our BCS uniforms and attracting an array of different looks from the people around us.

Pity. Disgust. Sympathy. Surprise.

The list went on.

“Fuck them,” I told her, casting a warning glare to a particularly pervy father-to-be who was eyeing my girlfriend’s legs. “They don’t know us.”

“Joe, we’re the only teenagers here,” she continued to ramble, tone panicked. “That girl over there looks like she’s in her early twenties, but that’s it. All these women are way older than me.”

“It doesn’t matter, Molloy,” I tried to soothe. “Age is just a number.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, smoothing down the hem of her pleated skirt. “You’re absolutely right, Joe.” Reaching for my hand, she shifted closer, welding her side to mine. “God, I need to pee so bad.”

“Just hold it,” I replied. “You read the form. It said you need a full bladder.”

“Yeah, but it’s so uncomfortable.” She squirmed in discomfort. “Distract me.”

“How?”

“Tell me who was on the phone?”

“Shannon,” I replied, sighing heavily. “She’s gone to Dublin with the school.”

“Really? You never mentioned it.”

“Because I didn’t know,” I admitted. “Yeah, that’ll be fun to explain to the old man when he gets wind of it.”

“No.” Her hand tightened around mine. “No, no, no, you don’t need to explain anything, okay? You need to just stay away from that asshole. Let your mother handle it.”

“Molloy.”

“I’m serious, Joe,” she choked out, pulling my hand onto her lap. “I can’t cope with knowing he’s hurting you—’

“Aoife Molloy?” a frazzled looking nurse called out, thankfully putting an end to the conversation. “You’re up, sweetheart.”

“Oh Jesus.” Looking like a deer caught in headlights, Molloy sprang to her feet, dragging me with her. “Don’t leave me, Joe,” she whispered, with a death grip on my hand, as we followed the nurse. “Don’t leave my side.”

“I won’t,” I promised, letting her pull me into the dimly lit room with her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“My name is Margaret, and I’m the ultrasound technician,” the woman introduced herself, closing the door behind us. “You’re here for your dating scan, is that right?”

“Uh, yeah?” Molloy croaked out, and then reluctantly let go of my hand when the woman led her over to the examination table. “Uh, he’s the father, so can he stay with me?”

“Sure, Dad can sit on the chair next to you.”

Dad.

Holy fuck.

“Joe?” Molloy squeezed out, eyeing me meaningfully from her perch on the table, as she laid on her back and held out her hand.

“Shit, yeah.” Shaking my head to clear the panic, I closed the space between us, and sank down on the chair next to the table and grabbed her hand.

“According to your notes, this is your first pregnancy,” the technician stated, as she lubed my girlfriend’s belly with a bottle of clear gel. “The first day of your last menstrual cycle was December fourteenth, is that correct?”

“Uh, yeah,” Molloy croaked out. “That’s right. I had some spotting at the end of January, but my friend was saying that might be—”

“Implantation bleeding,” the technician filled in with a knowing nod. “Uh-huh. And you’re a half twin, is that right?” Stuffing a wad of tissues under the waistband of my girlfriend’s skirt, she fiddled with the ultrasound machine next to the table, tapping buttons and typing on the little keyboard. “Fraternal? Dizygotic?”

“Uh…” Molloy looked to me and I shrugged, having no fucking clue what any of it meant. “Yeah, sure?”

“Okay, well, let’s just have a look.” Retrieving the wand from the machine, the woman rolled it over my girlfriend’s stomach. “You’ll feel lots of pressure on your lower abdomen and pelvic area, but it shouldn’t be painful.”

Attention riveted to the screen in front of us, I watched as it transformed from darkness to a weird pale orb, with a strong pulsing movement coming from the middle of it.

“Lovely,” the technician said, gaze flicking between the wand and the screen as she tapped on the keypad and changed angles. “Yes, you’re definitely pregnant.”

“Oh fuck,” Molloy and I choked out at the same time, as we both shifted closer to get a better look at the screen.

“That’s it?” Molloy asked, squeezing my hand, as we both eyed the tiny alien shaped creature floating around on the screen. “That’s the baby?”

“Yeah, and listen to this.” Pausing, the technician pressed a few buttons on the screen, causing a galloping noise to fill the room. “That’s a beautiful, strong heartbeat.”

“That sounds like a racehorse,” Molloy breathed. “That’s really the heartbeat?”

“Uh-huh, and judging by the size of this little bean, you have your dates spot on. You’re fourteen weeks and three days gestation, giving you an EDD of 20-09-2005. Congratulations, Mom and Dad.”

“Oh Jesus, Joe,” Molloy choked out, swinging back to look at me. “It was the Tommen party.”

“Yeah,” I managed to get out, though I was sure my heart was thundering ten times faster than the kid housed in my girlfriend’s womb. “Fucking Gibsie and his spliffs of Moher.”

“And the champagne.”

“Fucking champagne.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing,” we both chorused in unison.

Shaking my head, I asked, “So, ah, what happens next?”

“Well, Mom here will be given an appointment with a midwife to go over medical history, family history and what not, and we’ll go from there.” She continued to scan Molloy’s stomach as she spoke. “As you can tell from the crowded hallways and waiting room, we’re pretty swamped this afternoon, so an appointment will be sent out in the post for the next week or so.”

“What are you checking for?” Molloy asked, tone wary, as she watched the technician move the wand over her stomach.

“You’re a twin, so I’m just making sure we don’t have any little surprises hidden away from view.”

“What the fuck?” I demanded, heart gunning in my chest. “There’s more?” I glared at my girlfriend. “There’s more?”

“No, no, no,” Molloy chuckled nervously, pushing the technician’s hand away. “One surprise was quite enough, thanks. Don’t go looking for problems, dammit.”

“Don’t worry. I can only see one fetal membrane sac.”

“Thank Jesus for that,” I strangled out, sinking back on the chair and pressing my hand to my chest. “Don’t do that to me.”