EDIT: Damn it! Accidentally pressed 'Publish' instead of save when I was editing. Oh, well. No point taking it down. Enjoy.
I never thought I'd find something that I didn't love about Isaac. I hate people that snore but whenever Isaac did it, his eyes would flutter and those long lashes of his would seem like they were batting for me. It's cute. The fact that he talks in his sleep would annoy me, only then he'd go and say something totally sweet and my heart would melt. Music wise, I don't like anything he listens to because really, what sane person outs AC/DC on repeat for about ten hours a day? Still, he sings the lyrics in a much softer tone to the baby and honestly, I've never found him more attractive.
However, today is the day that I have finally found something about him that I hate. It's going to sound so silly, too, but really, it is the most grotesque thing ever. It's the way he eats. Well, no, it's not even that. It's the sound of him eating. Has he always been a heavy breather when he eats? Like, why does it take him half an hour to bite down on something, making the noise excruciating painful to be around? And then there's the chewing. There's only so much I can take but right now, as I sit opposite him in La Petite, I want to reach across the table and strangle him.
"Can you stop doing that, please?" I beg. I grip my hair with my hands and feel the burning sensation as each strand pulls at my scalp. The tension in my shoulders, my hands, my fingers, however, don't allow me to let go. Not until Isaac desists with the eating. "Stop!"
He does. Briefly. Only to shoot me a confused glance. He takes another bite from his croissant and chews again. "What am I supposed to be stopping?" There's a small piece of the flaky breakfast treat at the corner of his mouth and it's irritating me. Thankfully, he catches where my hot stare is and swiftly wipes away the crumb. "Lottie, are you ok?"
Shaking my head, I snatch the plate from him and walk into the kitchen to discard the half eaten breakfast. Ignoring his pleas that he hasn't finished, I take some solace in the quietness of the kitchen and do some deep breathing. Only that doesn't go so well because I don't actually know how to do any deep breathing. I haven't found a class that I can seamlessly join yet and with time running out, I doubt that I will find one.
I really need to learn to breathe. If labour is going to be as frustrating as this is for me, then I need to be able to get through it without feeling like I'm on the verge of exploding.
"Boss, you ok?" I look up to see one of the staff, Lauren, watching me with concern from the kitchen doorway. She brings in some dirty dishes and places them near the sink before rinsing them and placing the plates, cups and cutlery in the dishwasher. Pressing a button, she set the machine and comes to stand next to me. "You look like a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. What's up, chick?"
"I can't breathe," I tell her. Knowing that doesn't make much sense on its own, I elaborate. "I mean, Isaac and I get kicked out of anti-natal classes, or I leave, or whatever. He's sitting out there, eating, doing my head in and I can't breathe because I haven't been taught how to. It's a disaster. Nugget's due at the end of September and it's just going to be so not what I envisaged it to be. I want one of those calm, peaceful, silent Scientology kind of birth but it won't be. Because no one has taught me how to breathe."
Lauren laughs at how dramatic I'm being. To her credit, she tried not to but the longer she bit down on her lip, the more she wanted to laugh and eventually, she did. She cried a little too, wiping away some moisture from the corner of her eye before she composed herself and looked at me with faint amusement mixed in with a whole lot of kindness.
"Oh, Charlotte, what are we to do with you?" She questions aloud, although it's probably rhetorical. She really doesn't want me answering that in my current state. She wraps her arm around my waist and shuffles closer to me. "Basically, you need to find an anti-natal class, right? Well, when I was expecting Tristan, I had trouble finding someone I liked. One woman was mental, another overwhelmingly smelled ginger and the third was the woman that ran off with my baby daddy, but enough about that. Finding someone to coach you through childbirth is impossible but if you're willing to be a little open-minded, I think I have someone who could help you. She's a mindfulness birthing coach and does lots of yoga with you for six weeks before the baby is born and she's actually really good. I mean, once you get over that mindfulness is a load of crock."
I laugh at the expression on her face. "At this rate, Lauren, I am willing to give anything a go. And if you ever need a favour in return-"
"A favour?" Lauren suddenly perked up at the sound of that. Her eyes drifted across the kitchen to where Nate was stood creating some macarons before playfully moving back onto me. "Are you free sometime this week to babysit Tristan? Nate asked me out and I don't have a sitter. Fancy some hand on parenting practice?"
Walking out of the kitchen some five minutes later, I was armed with the phone number for a birthing coach in return for looking after a very energetic two-year old on Wednesday night. When I reached the table, Isaac tore his eyes from the window and glared at me. I knew he was still angry about the croissant business but I also knew that he had a lot of things on his mind this week. Not only was he planning Martha's birthday party but he was also torn about his decision to send his family back to Sydney.
I saw his face when he came home that night and announced to Martha and me that he'd cut May out of his life. He was devastated. His mother and Alice were complicit in May's behaviour and having them all take her side was too much for Isaac. He kept saying that he was sorry but that his kids come first, a decision that I accepted, as did Martha. As much as she liked her aunt, Martha had said, she hated abuse and that wasn't something she could condone. She would have made the same decision, she said. I nodded and agreed.
Our words, however, only went so far in easing Isaac's troubles. His mind would wander off as he grazed his chin with his fingers, eyes fixed on the nothingness in front of him. His outer turmoil was only a fraction of what was really going on with him.
Sitting next to him, instead of opposite him, I took Isaac's hand in mine and drew circles on his palm. "How about you and I go and do something fun today, huh?" I asked, bumping his shoulder with mine. His blue eyes met mine and my stomach flipped, as always. I felt the blush hit my cheeks and my heart beat a little faster. I'm sure if I tried to stand up, my knees would give way because when Isaac Lachlan Fletcher fixes you with those eyes of his, my God, you go weak. Good job I'm sitting down. And to think, earlier I wanted to kill him. Glad I didn't. "We could go to the aquarium."
"You hate animals in captivity," Isaac notes, knowing me too well. "That's why we can't go to the zoo."
Nodding, I purse my lips in concentration. "You know how you do a lot of things for me that you absolutely hate," I say, smiling up at him while remembering the few times he's been in the same room as my grandmother, Harlow Delaney. "Well, I'm sure I could do the same for you. If you want to go to the zoo, I'll go with you. What's going to put that dazzling Flynn Rider-esque smile back on your face?"
"Flynn Rider?" He scoffs. "I'll have you know that they based his smile on mine, not the other way around. Back on topic, though, while I appreciate your offer, I don't want to drag you around something you're not going to enjoy."
I try a few other tactics, asking if he wants to go do some touristy things, maybe pop our heads into Madame Tussauds or go and see the Crown Jewels, but every suggestion I made, Isaac turned down. He just wasn't in the mood and I hated seeing him like that. Finally, I gave him one last chance, asking him if he fancied going to see a matinée performance of some West End show. He laughed at the idea but after thinking about it, he agreed that it sounded like fun.
We bid Lauren and Joanne farewell, and I even went into the kitchen to say goodbye to Nate and Arnaud before we left. The streets of London were busy but that was to be expected. It's Saturday, after all. We took the Tube to Charing Cross and walked up the Strand towards Covent Garden, turning left into the Adelphi Theatre, home to Kinky Boots. Having discussed what show we wanted to see, a woman on the Tube suggested Kinky Boots. Raucous fun, she called it.
We bought tickets for the afternoon show and were ushered to our seats a full thirty minutes before curtains up. During the wait, Isaac ran off to buy us some drinks and a bar of chocolate for me. When he returned, I bridged the gap between us and whispered that I loved him before gently kissing his lips.
"What was that for?" He asked in shock.
"What? Am I not allowed to tell you that I love you? Do I need a reason to kiss you?" I scoffed before proceeding to tell him that I loved him an additional seven times, each proclamation followed by a kiss. When he laughed, I stopped, glad that he was happier. Nugget kicked and I jumped, making Isaac jump as well. Taking his hand, I placed it over where the kicks were and sighed. "Nugget better not keep this up all through the show. Baby loves to kick Mummy. I think we should name the baby Maradona if it's a boy. Or Cantona."
Isaac frowned. "Neither. If you want soccer inspired names, go for Cristiano or Lionel, maybe, but not Maradona and Cantona."
"Lionel Cristiano Fletcher isn't so bad, I suppose," I tease Isaac. He may have been joking but I'm half serious about the name pick. Despite having lots of names suggested to us after the baby shower, I was still undecided about what name to pick. "Why is naming a baby so hard?"
"Because they'll have to live with it for the rest of their lives and if it's a shit name, it's your fault?" Isaac unhelpfully suggested. He grinned. "If you want, I'll name that baby. No hassle for me."
"That's because you already know what we're having and you've probably had one chosen for months," I retaliate. Opening the bar of chocolate, I cut off a square and ate it, slapping Isaac's hand away when he tried to steal some. "You're a really obnoxious eater and this chocolate is mine."
He blinked at me. "Obnoxious eater? Where did that come from?"
"You just are," I assure him. "I like the name Evan for a boy but we can't use it because Sophie's middle name is Evangeline and she'll have notions of grandeur thinking that we named Nugget after her. For a girl, Ottilie is a nice name but it's like a middle name, not a first name. Sebastian is another one I like, but I'm torn between Seb-as-tian or Seb-as-tien. What do you make of the name Selig for a boy? Or even a girl? It's unisex."
The lights dimmed then, indicating the start of the show but I managed to catch the horrified stare Isaac gave me. "We are not naming the baby Selig, Lottie. Over my dead body."
The intro music began to play, covering up the sound of me scoffing. "That could be arranged, Mr Fletcher." Dropping my voice into a whisper, I cradle my stomach, my right hand feeling the baby's soft kicks. "You like the name Selig, right?"
Nugget kicked. That's decided then.
So, what do we make of the name Selig?
Charlotte's got a very short temper/ annoyance limit these days. In her defence, I hate obnoxious people and misophonia is a real thing- it's horrible!
In your mid-week update, how will Isaac and Charlotte handle babysitting a two-year-old? Which will take to it like a duck to water and which will really struggle?
Is mindfulness a real thing? Has anyone tried it? And pregnancy yoga sounds equally terrifying and fun!
Anyway, that's all from me for today. Have a great start to your week and I'll see you on Hump Day (Wednesday!)
Sarah, xx