The Two Week Wait Read Online Free PDF Page B

. it wouldn’t be possible.’
    ‘I know !’ Now she is sobbing so loud, she can hear she sounds ridiculous. She hopes Rich doesn’t see her tears as blackmail, yet is powerless to stop. ‘You
don’t have to remind me they’ve removed my stupid ovaries.’
    Rich winces. ‘I know it’s rough, I can only begin to imagine how rough – you’ve been so strong; you’ve been brilliant; I’m so proud of you. I thought over
time that we’d both come to terms with the situation. We’ve talked about it before, and I’m OK with it, love.’
    ‘I know that too.’ Cath reaches for her wine again, takes a big gulp, trying to stave off her weeping. ‘Or that’s what you say, anyway. But either way, it’s not OK
with me.’
    Rich stops stroking her leg. She knows him so well, the way his face falls; she can see him assimilating. ‘What are you saying . . . ?’
    ‘I don’t know.’ She thinks of the train of toddler snow-ploughs, the little girl who fell over, of Alfie and Dom, and again feels an enormous tug of yearning. ‘I’ve
changed my mind. Last time we talked about it I was in the middle of my treatment – I had to block it out. But I’m in a different place now. We were trying for a baby before I got ill,
remember.’
    ‘Of course I remember.’ It was because she was finding it hard to conceive they discovered the cancer in the first place. Eventually he says, ‘Do you think we should consider
adopting?’
    She’s thought of that. ‘I’m not sure we can. We’re pretty old, aren’t we? Or I am . . . I think you have to be under forty . . . ’ The tears continue falling,
though not as heavily.
    Rich gets to his feet, fetches some tissue from the bathroom. ‘We could find out,’ he says, handing it to her.
    ‘I guess.’ She blows her nose, wipes her eyes. The tissue is covered in black smears from her mascara. She must look a right mess. The wood crackles in the stove; a log tumbles into
a new position. ‘Are you sure?’ she says, presently. ‘I don’t want to pressurize you or anything.’
    ‘You’re not pressurizing me.’ But Rich is still frowning. ‘I do think you might be right though, that we wouldn’t be eligible.’ He resumes stroking her
leg.
    ‘Maybe there are alternatives to adoption.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘Where we use, you know, your sperm . . . ’
    ‘Mm?’
    ‘With someone else’s eggs.’
    ‘Right.’ He sits back, lets out a slow breath, runs a hand through his hair. ‘Oh love, I don’t know about that.’
    ‘It’s just a thought.’
    ‘A surrogate, you mean?’
    ‘Um, yes, perhaps—’
    ‘Blimey.’ He raises his eyebrows. ‘Hmm . . . I’m not sure . . . ’
    Her shoulders slump. ‘Why not?’
    ‘I dunno . . . I’m not saying no, definitely. I’d need to think about it. It’s just the whole idea of it. Paying someone to have our baby . . . putting them through the
whole stress of pregnancy . . . ’ He shakes his head.
    Cath feels a mixture of exasperation and appreciation. If Rich weren’t so kind and principled, he might not baulk at it; yet she loves him for precisely these qualities. She says,
‘But wouldn’t it be better if at least the child was yours?’
    ‘I guess . . . I’m sorry, love, you’re a bit ahead of me. You need to give me a while to catch up. You know, I’d kind of put all this on the back burner and
now—’
    She jumps at his words. ‘The “back burner” – there you are, see? You hadn’t given up on the idea.’
    ‘Sorry?’
    ‘It’s still there, simmering away.’
    He seems spooked by the speed of her interpretation. ‘Maybe . . . ’
    ‘I know you need to think about this further, and so do I. I only wanted to open up the conversation.’
    ‘I’m just not that sure about fathering a baby with someone else. You’re my wife. I mean, how would you feel about that?’
    ‘I don’t know . . . A bit odd, I guess.’
    ‘Exactly.’ His face clears: he’s come to his conclusion. ‘It’s not a matter of