My baby was a mistake. I light up a cigarette, my third this morning, and prod my swollen stomach guiltily. I urge the baby to kick, to give me a wake up call. I know I’m too old for this childishness. I need to grow up, I know that. I should either have aborted it at the beginning or dedicated myself to a fresh start, a new life as a soon to be single mother. Right from the beginning, it was a mistake. His dad was a mistake. I loved him, but he didn’t love me back. He disappeared the minute I told him I was pregnant.
I’m not really showing yet; I just look like I’ve gained a little weight. And do they even kick when they’re at three months, or are they still just forming? I don’t know, I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t handle this, I can barely look after myself, how am I going to look after a baby? I still live with my parents. I’m currently unemployed, I’ve been unemployed since graduation. I do know I shouldn’t smoke when pregnant, and each time I promise it’s my last one, but it just happened so unexpectedly that I hadn’t mentally or physically prepared for it. My body is still addicted to the nicotine. The baby, if I do decide to have it, is probably going to be saddled with some kind of deficiency, thanks to my lifestyle. What kind of terrible human being am I, I can’t even quit smoking for the sake of an innocent’s life? I’m going to have to get a job. I can’t ask my parents to look after the baby, and they’re not going to be happy when they find out that I’m going to be a single parent. I’m freaking out. All I’ve done in the past year since graduation is waste my life. Putting out my cigarette I tighten my dressing gown and head for the phone. Lately I’ve been obsessed with calling telephone psychics. I think I’m having an early life crisis, because something in me has snapped. I’ve been calling telephone psychics using my mum’s credit card. She’s too busy to really keep an eye on her statements so she hasn’t noticed yet. Maybe she hasn’t got the bill yet. I’ll deal with it when it happens. It started when I was feeling completely lost, having realised I was pregnant, and it being new years, I made resolutions and was googling things and ended up looking up my horoscope for the year. And then I ended up calling one of those psychics. Call me stupid, call me vulnerable. I don’t know what I was thinking but sixty minutes later I’d stolen enough of my mum’s money to put an ice addict to shame and what for? To learn that my future would apparently have some unexpected surprises.
I call her again, out of habit. When the phone picks up, I do get an unexpected surprise.
It’s a male voice, not the raspy one of my psychic.
“Mum?” he says.
“Oops,” I say. “I think I’ve got the wrong number.”
“Who were you trying to call?”
There’s a sly tone to his voice now, like a telemarketer trying to keep you on the phone.
For a second, I wonder if the person on the other end of the phone is as lonely as I am. So I decide, stupidly, to skip the small talk and just tell this random person that basically, I’m a pathetic loser who calls telephone psychics.
“A telephone psychic,” I say, curious to know how this stranger will respond.
“I’ll do you one better. This is a call from your future. Your future is telling you to stop feeling sorry for yourself because it’s all going to turn out all right. Hold on, I’ve got someone else who wants to speak to you.”
I hear muffled voices before I hear a crisp clear voice on the line. It’s the voice of a teenage girl.
“Mum, when are you coming home?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Sarah, mum. Dad wants to know when you’re coming home, he made dinner.”
“I think I’ve got the wrong number,” I say weakly.
“You don’t,” says the female voice firmly. “And we don’t have much time, so stop wasting it thinking you’re dreaming. This is me, your daughter from the future. I can’t tell you much else I’m afraid. All I can tell you is this is me. You’ve heard my voice, and you’ve heard his, and you have to decide which one you’d rather have as your future kid.”
“Are you happy?” I say. “Are you traumatized? Fucked for life? Did I fuck you up? I’m scared of having a girl,” I ramble. “What if I fuck her up when she’s just a baby. What if I can’t toilet train her properly and give her issues? I’m scared of having a boy. If he had a dad, then maybe he could look after it, but…I’m scared.”
“Calm down, alright. I want to be born, you know? But so does he. It’s your decision.”
“You want to be born?” I say. “I can’t tell you the number of times I tell my parents I hate them for ever having brought me into this shitty world.”
“Well, I like my life. But it might not exist, if you keep your baby now.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you abort your baby, then further down the track you have me. If you keep it, you get him.”
“How?”
“Like I said, I can’t go into the details. But I want to be born, I’ll tell you that. So does he. But you can’t have us both.”
“So you’re telling me that aborting the baby is the right thing? Or the wrong thing? I’m confused.”
“There is no wrong thing or right thing. See, aborting the baby might be the wrong thing, but then what about me? I exist, I think. I can feel myself and pinch myself and eat things and do things and enjoy things. But if you keep your baby, you’ll never have me. I guess you’re not ‘killing’ me because I never existed, whereas he does exist right now, but time isn’t linear, you know? I do exist. And if you keep him, you’ll erase my existence. I could have existed, but then I never will.”
“I can’t have you both?”
“I exist on a different timeline, mum. And you want both now? You don’t even want him!”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, want to talk to him?”
“I guess.”
“Hey mum,” says the young man’s voice.
“How do you deal,” I say. “Without a dad? Do I fuck you up?”
“You’d be surprised at how life works out.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll be happy either way, mum. So will we.”
“You’re telling me everything and nothing,” I yelp. “Just like a psychic!”
“Oops, you got me.”
“Really? I mean, really?”
The woman reverts to her normal voice. “Look, kiddo. Whether you keep the baby or not is up to you. I was just laying out the options for you. You keep this baby, you’re gonna be thinking about its daddy for a long time. You said you loved him, didn’t you? So either that can be a good thing or a bad thing. In my professional opinion, I think whatever you decide to do, your future is bright…”
“Oh, fuck you!”