• chapter twenty-six • 

They stayed with us for hardly a week. The people just below us had decided to move out, and Zack and Ash immediately rented the place and moved in. Even though I wanted them to stay with us, I knew it was not sensible because ours was a one-room apartment, and for one week they had been sleeping either on the sofa-cum-bed in the store-room or on the couches.

Zack had even managed to get his hands on a cheap second-hand car, which he proudly displayed to the world by parking it outside the building, on the road. The cops had to tell him to take it somewhere else lest they should tow it away.

I had a chat with Sharon, while Lemonade was in the bedroom, writing something in the thick, pretty brown diary with yellow pages that I'd got for him. I told her that I had started my course at NYU the day before. I had tried so hard to look for her, but she was nowhere to be found. She was saying that she was in second year now, but for whatever reason I was so sleepy and tired that I barely heard her.

And then I had a weird, queasy feeling in my stomach. My throat was tight, and my mouth started tasting horribly bitter. My vision blurred. I left our chat midway and ran to the bathroom, and vomited. My head felt light, like I'd lost a kilo of my brain. My stomach felt raw. Closing the lid of the toilet seat, I sat down on it. Liam came in. "What's wrong?" He gave me a bottle of water. 

I drank some. "I don't know. Must've been something I ate. Maybe the milk was bad. I should've smelled it." I stood up, and it felt like all the blood rushed to my head at once. The room was spinning. I sat back down.

"Hazelnut?" Liam must've said, but I couldn't be sure. I was underwater, and everything I heard seemed to be muffled, as if the sound had got lost in the ocean. I felt someone shaking me. "Hazel!"

My head snapped up. "Yeah?"

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I'm just dizzy, I guess."

"Do you want to sleep?"

"Mm. I've been tired since morning."

He carried me to the bed and tucked me in. I heard him telling Sharon that I would call her back later, then he settled down next to me.

"Sorry I disturbed you," I mumbled. "You were writing something."

"Reading, actually." He kissed my forehead.

"Oh. Reading what?"

"Just random facts. Like, when hippos are upset, their sweat turns red. And I read about Pinocchio's Paradox. If Pinocchio says, 'My nose will grow now,' this will cause a paradox. Pinocchio's nose grows when he tells a lie, so if he said 'my nose will grow now', and if his nose does grow that would mean he wasn't lying, but if he wasn't lying, his nose wouldn't grow. If his nose doesn't grow, then his statement would be a lie, so his nose would grow. But then the statement wouldn't be a lie...so his nose wouldn't grow... get it?"

"Yeah," I said. "Lemonade... I want to... say something."

"Hmm?"

"Um... we... we didn't use protection." I blushed.

He kept on looking at me, not getting where I was going.

"And I have been... tired since morning. Yesterday, too, I was tired. I even vomited today."

Slowly realisation dawned on his face. His eyes widened. His lips parted slightly. "You're saying that..."

"...that I could be pregnant." There. I'd finally said it. I smiled. A silence hung in the air. I'd been suspecting this for days now, right from the moment when I noticed my increased need to urinate.

"I- I don't think we should be jumping to conclusions on our own," he stuttered. "We should get a test done."

"Do you think it will be a boy? I hope it is. I hope he has your eyes. It would be like seeing you grow up."

He looked at me as if I'd asked him to eat rotten cheese. "What are you talking about?"

I frowned. "The baby, of course. I just told you."

"You mean... you want to have this baby?"

I was stunned to silence. "Now what are you talking about?"

"You're just twenty years old, Hazel. You want to have a baby?"

"So what if I'm twenty? Can't I have a baby?"

"No! You can't!" He ran his hands through his hair. "Christ."

"Why not? I want to!"

"But I don't want a baby yet! Do you realize how large a responsibility this is? We're not even married yet!"

"Can't we have a baby without getting married?"

He sat up straight and looked directly into my eyes. "Aren't you listening? This is not the age for a baby. And I'm not ready for a baby." He wrapped his fingers around my wrists, so tightly that my fingers felt numb from the lack of blood supply. He leaned closer. "I want to do something with my life, I want to settle down before we start a family. And do you think it is wise to give birth to a baby while that ghost is still here? Or have you forgotten about that prank call?"

That reminder was like a slap to my face. "But..." I was at a loss for words.

"We'll get a test done," he said. "If it's positive, we'll get an abortion done."

I shivered. That sounded horrible. Utterly wrong. "I can't kill a baby. Our baby."

"It's not a baby yet, Hazel! It's just a zygote!"

"That is just... you— you ruined it. Zygote? That is such a horrible word to describe something so beautiful. I thought you'd be happy!"

"Happy about what? You're being stupid, Hazel."

That hurt. Hearing that from the mouth of someone whom I loved with all my heart, it stung. My eyes filled with tears. "Why are we fighting?"

"I don't know." He crossed his arms and refused to look at me. The tips of his ears had turned red. So he was angry, was he? I cupped his face with my hands and kissed him deeply, enjoying the feel of his strong hands on my waist. I rested my head on his chest. "I love you, Lemonade."

He sighed. "Hazel, you won't have this baby."

"I will, Liam."

He pushed me away roughly, and I tumbled off the bed. My ankle scraped against a corner of the bed causing some skin to peel off. I cried out, and looked at him in disbelief. He'd never done that before. He'd never even fought with me, let alone hurt me physically. He looked at me, shocked by what he'd done.

"Shit," he said, and scrambled up. "Hazel—"

"I'm fine," I snapped, and stormed into the bathroom. It kind of still smelled like vomit, so I sprayed some air-freshener and flushed the toilet, and bent down to examine my foot. It was nothing, really; just a tiny scratch, dotted with tiny droplets of blood wanting to come out. I suspended my foot under the tap and washed it. Why then, did it hurt so much? Why did I feel like crying?

Because it was Liam who'd done this.

Now, it wasn't like I'd never been hurt physically. Of course I had been. My dad used to slap me when he felt like I was wasting my life by painting. But that didn't hurt. Because I didn't care.

But this, this tiny scratch, was painful.

I wiped my foot. So what now? I leaned against the wall, and lifted up my shirt to look at my stomach. It looked the same as it had always looked. I ran my fingers over my skin. Everytime I thought about the baby, a huge smile spread across my face. Our baby. Just the thought of it was so beautiful. Why didn't Liam want it? How could he not want our baby? I was ready to sacrifice everything. I knew that I would have to quit NYU. I was ready to do that. Why wasn't he?

"Hazel?" Liam called. I walked out into the room and looked at him. "I'm sorry," he said, and wrapped his warm arms around me. It was all I wanted at that moment, but somehow I resisted the urge to hug him back, letting my arms hang limply by my side. "Are you angry?" He touched my cheek. I didn't answer. Pulling me closer, he rested his forehead against mine. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever," I replied.

"I shouldn't have pushed you."

"Whatever."

"I love you."

"What—" I stopped myself. That melted me. I looked at him, into those stormy grey eyes that I loved so much. The tips of our noses touched. "Lemonade?"

"Yeah?"

"Is the thought of having a baby really so bad?"

"Yeah. Is the thought of abortion really so bad?"

"Yes. Of course. It's our baby. It's not a foetus or an embryo or whatever. And I'm not gonna let anything happen to it."

"We can have another when we're ready."

"It's not the same thing. I want this one. And I'm ready. I don't care how old I am."

"BUT I AM NOT READY! Aren't you getting me?"

"Why are you screaming in my face?"

"Because you just don't understand." He released me from his hold. "I want to do something in life before I settle down!"

"Do something like what? Write stupid novels?"

His hands were on my face so suddenly, holding my chin, fingers pressing against one cheek and his thumb digging into the other, that I couldn't react. "Don't you dare," he whispered in my face. He let go. I staggered backward. "You can do whatever the hell you want. I don't want this baby. And if that's the road you want to walk on, then I won't be walking with you."

With that, he turned around, and walked out of the room. Pretty soon I heard the main door open and close.

He had...left? Gone? Had he actually walked out and left me alone?

I sank to the floor and dissolved into tears. My cheeks were still tingling from his touch. The scene played itself out in my head. I shouldn't have said that. It must've really hurt him. I was so mean sometimes. For a while I sat like that, trying to figure out what to do next with my life, and then I went to the kitchen to make lunch. I banged the utensils, threw in the ingredients angrily, and ate my share without waiting for Liam. I didn't even know if he was coming back. Now I finally realized how Mary must've felt when William walked out on her.

What if he had actually left me? No, he couldn't have. He hadn't taken his stuff. He couldn't possibly survive the streets without any money or food or anything. Had he worn a jacket? It was going to get cold. It was September, after all. What if he had gone out in just a flimsy t-shirt? He would catch a cold. Before I could worry further, I heard the door open.

Liam came in, and just like I feared, he was wearing a simple t-shirt. Without a word, he pulled me close and kissed me. I savoured the feeling. "I'm sorry," both of us said together. I reached up for another kiss, but he pulled back.

"Listen first," he said. "I can't live without you. I realized this in that one year I spent without you." He kissed my cheek. "I can't go through that torture again." He kissed my neck. "And I'm never, ever going to leave you alone, no matter what happens. I can't get you pregnant and then throw you away to be a single mother." He brought my hands to his lips and kissed each finger one by one. "I really don't want a baby, and I still hope you'll change your mind. But if you want one so badly, then I guess I have no choice. So...have you thought of a name?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. What had brought about this sudden change? Had someone given him a piece of their mind while he lumbered in the streets? There was this determination in his eyes, like he had decided that he wasn't going to let a ghost ruin his life. At least, that's how I liked to think about it. I threw my arms around him. "I love you, Liam." I felt light. 

For a minute I'd actually thought that ours would be that tragic love story that ends with the lovers going separate ways and the girl raising the child on her own. I didn't want that. "I like... Willow. If it's a girl. Or Alaska. It means 'that which the waves break against.' Or Celine. It means 'moon'."

"I like the name Dylan. It is a Welsh name. It means son of the wave, born near the sea, or... influence. Something like that."

Dylan was a character from Frozen Hearts, I remembered. "For boys," I said, "Isaac. It means laughter. Or Nash. It is the star that forms the tip of the archer's arrow in the Sagittarius constellation."

"Wow. You know a lot of interesting names," he said, and I smiled. "I used to look them up. They're so interesting."

"If it's a girl," I continued. "We can call her Amaya, which means 'night rain'. Or Aquila. It is one of the brightest stars in the night sky. Such cool names."

"If it's a boy, then Dylan," he repeated.

"Isn't Isaac better?"

"No. Dylan."

"Isaac."

"Dylan."

"Isaac."

"Dylan."

"I made lasagna for lunch."

"Great."

  ∞