A Spark of Joy by Lea Darragh

Author:Lea Darragh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Escape Publishing
Published: 2020-10-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

The typically peaceful beach in Cobblers Cove had been transformed into Christmas central. The view of the ocean from the esplanade now blocked with stalls and tents, activities for the kids and adults alike. The main street was cordoned off so that revellers could meander their way down past the food trucks. The smells permeating the coastal air were drool worthy. From spit roasts and baked potatoes, fresh hot jam donuts and churros, to pizza and good old faithful chips and gravy. A band was playing Christmas carols. Children giggled and bounced around, high on sugar and pure excitement while they waited for Santa, the star of the night, to arrive. I walked hand in hand with Josh, my other hand holding a quickly dripping ice-cream.

‘You sure you don’t want a lick?’ I said.

‘Do you think it’s safe for kids to be running around like that? I don’t see their parents,’ he said, paying no attention to my offer.

I’d noted he’d been distracted for the past few days since our hospital visit. He’d had so many questions about how I’d know if labour is really happening. And then there was that of whether he would know how to help me during the birth? Typical for an expectant father, but that one question was clearly more about him still not having adjusted to nearing fatherhood rather than what he could do for me. What if something happens to our child, like life-threatening, and I have no idea how to help them … and what if when they start to grow up and they ask me things about life, I don’t have the answers. What if I don’t know how to relate to them, and what if the whole notion that once the child is yours, you’ll know instinctively what to do, is actually a sham, and in fact, we can never truly tell what kind of a parent we’ll be?

They’d been big questions, their heft felt especially when he’d asked them as we lay in bed at 3 am. He’d been stroking my belly, thinking out loud and giving a murmuring, almost inaudible voice to his concerns. I’d rolled over and curved my body around his, showing him that he wasn’t alone.

‘Tell me about your parents,’ I’d said. He remained quiet. ‘Do they know about the baby?’

I felt him shake his head in the darkness, still saying nothing.

I’d leaned over to turn on the lamp, then went back to him. ‘Do you want to know why I didn’t tell you about the baby sooner?’

At this, he shifted his head on the pillow to look at me, waiting. ‘Tell me.’

‘That night when we were together, do you remember the conversation we had down in the dunes?’

‘We talked about a lot.’

‘You told me that you weren’t sure that you ever wanted a family. You said that you weren’t cut out for it, but I never knew exactly what you meant, or why you believed that. That’s why I didn’t tell you, because I thought you’d have rejected me—us.

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