In Another Life

“You do know your mobile is ringing?” Mel pauses mid-sentence, and looks at me pointedly.

I nod distractedly, and lift my hand from the keyboard to wave her on. “I know, it’s just my mum. She’s been calling me every thirty minutes for the past two hours—”

“—Isn’t she, like, ten months pregnant?” Mel frowns, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Eight and a half,” I reply as I finish typing out my comments on my latest client’s file. I hit ‘save’, and then spin around in my chair so I can face my boss. “So I guess I should answer it then, huh?”

Mel nods, shaking her head as she laughs quietly. “I’ll give you a few moments to do it, yeah. How pissed is she going to be if she’s in labor, and you’re screening your calls?”

“On a scale of one to ten, probably an eighty,” I admit, reaching forward and picking up my phone. “I’ll only be a few moments, Mel. Promise.”

She flicks her wrist at me, and then exits the room to give me some privacy. I sigh heavilyso as I unlock the front screen, and then click on the missed calls icon. Mum really has been calling me every half-hour for the past two hours, and as I just spoke with her last week, and she reassured me that the doctors said that Baby is very much firmly in there, and clearly isn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon.

Though, that was nearly six days ago, and a lot can happen in a week. Feeling rather guilty now, I type in her number, the digits familiar enough to not warrant a look up in the contact list. I bring the phone up to my ear, and then go back to my computer screen in an attempt to continue on with my work.

But apparently my mother has others ideas for me.

“It is so lovely to know that your mobile still works,” Mum wastes no time in expressing her disapproval.

“Mum, I’m at work. I don’t have time to chat,” I begin, but she cuts me off with a rather huffy sniff.

“What if I was in labor? What if my waters had broken?” She snaps, and then much to my horror, she begins to exhale shakily as if on the verge of tears.

I hesitate, my mouth open at an attractive angle, before I begin to speak slowly. “But… you’re… not. Are you?”

“Of course I’m not! Do you think I’d be this calm if my waters had broken, and you’re off in bloody London? No, I’m upset because you’ve been ignoring my calls. What if I had really needed you?” Her voice is shaking, and it’s obvious that she’s started to cry.

Repressing the urge to roll my eyes, I place my elbow on my desk and cradle my forehead as I start to make amends for my atrocious behavior. “I’m very sorry, Mum. You know you can count on me, and I won’t let another one of your calls go to voicemail ever again. I’m a rubbish daughter, and you have every right to be sore with me.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve been an awful fright these past few weeks, and I’m taking it out on you. I’m just very much done with this pregnancy, and the baby needs to get here soon. I’m sorry, darling. Can you forgive your old mum, and her bloody awful hormones?” She laughs shakily, and in the background, I can hear Tad bellow something about Griffin picking up the sitting room.

It makes me suddenly realize just how much I miss Colchester.

“You’re fine,” I smile down the receiver. “How is Tad taking these last few weeks?”

“Walking on eggshells, of course.” Mum laughs, wiping at her eyes. “I know I’ve been awful to everybody. But, well, I can reserve that right, I reckon. I deserve it, especially having come this far and with so little to go.”

Mum’s latest pregnancy has been rocky. At 13 weeks, she and Tad had rushed to hospital because Mum started bleeding. Luckily the doctors convinced them that everything was okay, and that Mum was to take it as easy as possible. The bleeding stopped, but the intense morning sickness began. Mum spent so much time in the loo that the doctors ended up putting her on a medication to ease the vomiting. Coming back from dehydration, she’s essentially been on bed rest ever since. Tad has been waiting on her hand and foot, and I know that the both of them are more than ready for this pregnancy to be over.

“Still have no idea what Baby is yet?” I inquire, leaning back in my chair and crossing my legs neatly.

Mum sighs heavily, and then chuckles softly. “No, no, of course not. It’s going to be a surprise, whether your father likes it or not. That’s how it’s always been with all of you, and you’d think he’d be used to that by now. It makes the whole birth that much more exciting if no one knows what the baby is.”

“So Bryn Jr. is still in the running?” I joke, even though we both know very well that Mum’s convinced that this baby is a boy. She’s been insisting that because she’s carrying so low, and because this pregnancy is so different from her others, that it can’t possibly be a girl.

“You know, we can’t even come close to agreeing on a girl’s name, but we’ve two boy names selected. Your father’s finally agreed to mine,” She adds on triumphantly. “Maxen Henry, or Rhys Vaughn, what do you think?”

“I’m rather partial to Henry myself,” I admit dreamily, the mental image of a certain prince crossing my mind.

“Ugh, you sound just like your father,” Mum complains. “He has no imagination when it comes to naming children, and he even suggested that we stop using Welsh names!”

“How dare he,” I remark tonelessly.

My sarcasm goes completely over my mother’s head, though perhaps that is the best for everyone involved. She continues prattling on, hopping from thought to thought without even reflecting on whether or not anyone else can follow her brain these days.

“I have not forgotten that remark, which is the reason why I have called, but don’t you want to hear what I want to name the baby if it’s a girl?” Mum sounds a bit hurt that I haven’t inquired about the other selection of names just yet.

It’s rather hard to keep up with them, to be honest. When I spoke with her last week, the baby’s name was Tiwlip Mari.

“Go on then,” I encourage her as Mel comes in and arches her eyebrows up at me. I wave her away, and do my best to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“Lowri Crystin, that has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” She sounds extremely pleased with herself for coming up with, by her standards, a rather tame name.

I have to work hard to stifle the sudden burst of laughter that swells in my throat. “It’s almost normal sounding, Mum. Are you losing your touch?”

“Just you wait until you start having children of your own, and then I won’t stop nagging you about names. Then you’ll see how it feels,” Mum’s voice is very dry and unamused, though we both know that she’s only joking.

I click off of my work notes, and then glance at the clock, noting the time. Mel had called a staff meeting earlier today, and we were due to start in a few moments time. Which means that I’ll just have to hurry Mum along, and attempt to get her to make her point with minimal tear shedding on her end.

“Well I’d have to have a kid first,” I begin, but Mum cuts me off with a choked noise.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about!” Her voice is shrill, and she sounds like she’s gasping for air. “You, daughter of mine, have a new man in your life, and you have conveniently neglected to inform me.”

I pause, not quite sure what she’s speaking about now. Clearly she’s referencing the fact that Harry and I are in a relationship, but I’ve genuinely no idea where she got that information. The only other person I’ve told—

Bloody Liv and her big stupid sodding mouth. This is why no one ever tells her secrets!

“What?” I say slowly, doing my best to drag my metaphorical feet. If I can delay the inevitable, then I won’t have to tell Mum about Harry (at least not in this conversation), and then I can put off having this awkward and slightly humiliating conversation for another few days.

“I have spoken with Shellie,” Mum begins in a sing-song voice, and I already know what’s coming.

“Good for you.” I’m annoyed, and I’m already cursing Liv’s relationship with her mum. Because the only reason my mum knows is because Liv told Aunt Shellie and apparently everyone in this family has a huge bloody trap. “I’m sure she’s doing well—”

“Shellie,” Mum speaks up over my disgruntled grumbling. “Shellie has spoken with Liv, and Liv informs her that Bryn is in a relationship with a boy, and did I know anything about it?”

Taking care to cover the mouthpiece of my mobile so that Mum won’t hear me, I stomp my feet on the ground childishly and then hiss a rather colorful expletive through my teeth before I return my attention back to my phone.

“I do hope that you told her the truth, and you said she was positively bonkers,” I begin calmly, but Mum cuts me off with an irritated noise.

“You’re dating someone, and you haven’t even told me! Can you even imagine just how silly I felt with Shellie when I couldn’t even tell her anything about my daughter’s latest beau?!”

Blowing air out through my mouth, I rub my free hand down my face. “You make it sound as if I have loads of men parading through my doors—”

“That’s not the point, Bry. You used to tell me anything and everything, and now you barely even talk to me. It’s like you moved out to London, and I stopped being your friend.”

She really does have this guilt thing down pat. Because I certainly can’t ever recall a time when it was this big of a deal that she didn’t know every tiny microscopic detail about my personal life. Yes, absolutely Mum and I were close back when I lived in Essex. But I’m a grown adult now with my own life and my own problems and situations. It’s not normal for a 23-year-old to share every single thing with her mother.

Though, to be fair, dating a guy for six months is a relatively big deal. And she has every right to be hurt that I didn’t tell her about Harry. Because normal couples would be well on their way to meeting the extended family at this point, right? Not just barely getting through meetings with siblings and stuff…

“Mum, you haven’t stopped being my mate,” I begin in a tired voice. “It’s just—things are complicated right now between Ha—between him and I. That’s all.”

“What’s his name?” Mum inquires curiously, and I can just imagine her adopting that innocent expression.

I pause, weighing out the options carefully. I can lie to her, and make up a name. Though that might be awkward if I did eventually introduce her to Harry later on. Because then she’d think I was dating one guy, and Harry might get the wrong impression, and that would lead to awkwardness all around. Okay, so the second option is to just tell her his name. There are plenty of blokes named Harry in the United Kingdom, and it’s not even feasible for me to assume that she’ll jump straight on to the fact that Harry is, in fact, a certain prince, and not just some random London chap.

“Henry.” The word is out of my mouth before I really even realize what I’ve said. Once I do, I snap my lips together with a bit of a click, and I wait warily for her reaction. There’s really no telling just how this will pan out, especially considering her hormones.

“Henry,” Mum repeats thoughtfully, as though testing the way his name sounds on her tongue. “Henry and Bryn, hmm. And how long did you say you two were dating?” She makes no comment on the way our names sound together, which is a relief. I think.

I cough down the line, and manage to slip in ‘six months’ amongst the noise. Maybe she’ll pretend like she didn’t hear, or maybe she just won’t even underst—

“Six months?!” She shrieks, and I actually have to pull my phone away from my ear to save my hearing. “You have been dating Henry for six months—Bryn Alexander Matthews!”

Even though we’re well over 100 kilometers from each other, I still wince at the use of my second given name. Honestly, I haven’t heard the full name since I was a teenager, and it still doesn’t fail to bring about a multitude of feelings, ranging from guilt to incredulousness.

“If I say no, will that make you feel any better?” I begin meekly, but again, I’m cut off by her spluttering on the other end. At this point, I’m pretty sure that it’s just safer to be quiet and wait out the figurative storm until she’s regained both the use of her tongue and her grasp on the English language.

And so the next moment or two pass by in relative silence. On my end, I focus on the steady ticking of the second hand on the clock above the doorway, and Mum works herself through her state of hysteria and towards the desired state of –relative- acceptance.

Finally, she heaves a hefty sigh, and I can just see her massaging her temples gingerly with her fingertips. I’d seen the look many a time when I lived under her roof.

“Well are you going to bring him home on Christmas so we can meet this mysterious boyfriend?” She manages to speak relatively calmly, though there is still the sporadic flare up of nerves in her tone of voice.

“It’s not that simple, Mum.” I admit quietly as Mel pokes her head in again and motions towards the clock. I hold up my index finger, and then focus back on my mother. “He-he has family here in London, and—”

“You two have been together for six months, and he can’t tear himself away from his family for a day or two to spend the holidays with his girlfriend’s family? That doesn’t sound like a gentleman to me,” Mum sniffs in a tight voice.

I resist the urge to hurl a rather childish remark back at her, because she doesn’t know Harry, and she doesn’t even realize just how difficult it is for him to get away. But then I stop myself, and slowly count to three before I reply. She has no idea exactly who Harry is; therefore, she couldn’t possibly be expected to understand.

“He has a lot of responsibilities here, Mum. It’s difficult for him to get away for even a little bit of time to spend with me. He’s a perfect gentleman, and you needn’t worry that he’s treating me poorly. I will extend the invitation to him,” I speak up in order to be heard over her protests. “But I am making no guarantees that he’ll even show up. Now I have to go into a meeting for work, so I will talk with you later. Give Tad my love.”

It takes me another five entire minutes to get off the phone with her, and so by the time I hurry into Mel’s office, the meeting is late in getting started. And it’s all my fault. I wave a weak apology at Mel, who nods understandingly and then claps her hands together to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, is everyone ready to begin?” She starts off in an overly bright cheery tone, and it doesn’t sound very much like her normal voice. “Yeah? Good, great. Let’s get this over with. Now everybody knows about the previous sale quarter, right? Our returns haven’t been good at all,” She admits quietly, sobering quickly.

An eerie quiet settles over the break room, something that I can’t quite recall ever happening before now. It’s almost as if all of us realize just how serious the situation at hand is for all of us. People are going to lose their jobs, because we’ve taken such a big hit with the bigger clothing retail stores opening up their own personal shopper departments.

And even though Mel had reassured me weeks ago that my job was safe, that I was the second most requested consultant, my heart still leaps up into my throat and my stomach decides to take a plunge down towards my feet.

These people, each and every single one of them, have become my family over the years. I know them better then I know half of my own relatives. They know a lot about me, as well. We’ve grown so incredibly close, and now that’s all about to end for some of them. I can’t even imagine coming into work and not seeing April’s smiling face, or hearing Geoffrey’s obnoxious squawking laugh coming from the freight room.

“Because of the numbers that we’re bringing in, I’m afraid that we have to start making cutbacks. And that means that I am going to need to let some people go,” At the murmurs that break out across the room, Mel speaks up in order to be heard. “That’s not to say that anyone is doing a poor job with their duties, or that I’m not 100% satisfied with my staff, but something has to give. It’s a really very unfortunate reality, and it is killing me to have to do this.”

She really does look rather green at the idea of having to let people go. In all of my years working here, I can’t recall her ever firing someone. Sure, people left of their own accord, but never has Mel had to haul someone into her office and release them.

“That being said, I’m going to have to let two people go. I haven’t made a decision yet, but I will come to one by close tomorrow. Whoever I decide to let go, it is with deepest regret that I do so, and please do know that you will always be welcome in this store. If, in the future, our sales pick up, and I need to hire on more employees, you will be the first people I call and offer the job to—please remember that.”

She opens her mouth to speak some more, but the ringing of a cell phone cuts her off. Automatically, her hand goes to her hip where her mobile is clipped, but then she seems to realize that it’s not her that’s ringing.

A visible ripple goes across the room as people check their own phones, and I’m startled to realize that it’s my own phone that’s ringing with Jeanette’s name flashing across the screen. Turning a deep, dark shade of red, I hit ignore and start to put my phone on silent.

An apology to Mel is at my lips when my phone starts to ring again. Jeanette is calling me back. Clearly she couldn’t take the first hint when I sent her to voicemail.

“So sorry, Mel. I-I have to take this,” I motion with my phone, and then stand up and step out of the room. I hit answer and then stuff my index finger in my ear so I can hear my friend over the sound of my boss continuing the store meeting. “Jeanette, I’m at work,” I hiss, but I stop when I realize what’s happening.

Jeanette is sobbing on the other end. It’s dark, deep sobs that seem to get lodged in her throat, and she’s gasping for air as she struggles to string words together for me. I can’t understand what she’s saying, and I start to worry that she’s going to make herself ill with the force of her tears.

“Jeanette, what’s wrong?” I have to speak loudly in order to be heard, but for all the noise she’s making, she doesn’t even hear me. “Jeanette, calm down, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Bryn, my-my—the baby,” She gasps, choking on her own sobs. “There’s something wrong with the baby.”

My mind shifts into panic mode as her words settle down on me. Something is wrong with Baby Charley, which means that something is wrong with Jeanette. She’s calling me because she needs help with something, because she’s in distress.

“What’s wrong with the baby?” I’m already walking towards the offices, and I’m already trying to think of the tube schedule that will get me home at this time of the day. “Jeanette, breathe, and tell me what’s happening.”

“The baby hadn’t moved all day, and I called the midwife and she told me to move around and see if he’d respond, and I was walking around the block, and I thought I pissed myself, but I think it’s my waters breaking, and I can’t get it to stop—”

I grab my bag and my jacket before I start towards the exit, walking as quickly as I can in my heels. “Your waters are breaking? Are you at home?” When she responds positively, I continue speaking in what I hope is a calm voice. “Okay, I’m leaving work now. I’m on my way right now. I will be home in 20 minutes. Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

“I don’t know!” She shrieks, and it takes me a second to realize that it’s a cry of pain. “Bry, the baby—”

“Jeanette, I’m hanging up the phone and I am calling you an ambulance.” When she begins to cry harder, I nearly have to shout in order to be heard. I don’t even pay any attention to the odd looks I’m attracting from passing pedestrians. “I will meet you at the hospital; I will meet you there, and everything is going to be okay, alright?”

I don’t even wait for her response as I end the call and immediately dial 999. For the briefest of seconds, my brain completely goes dead and I have the time to wonder if I’ve even dialed the right number before a male operator answers my call.