Read Online The Ice Marathon by Rosen Trevithick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rosen Trevithick
Ads: Link
support from a member of another generation. Her manner
soothed me and gave me hope for the future. Raising my son would be so much
easier with such an understanding grandmother.
Chapter 8
“You told my parents that you’re bipolar?” Simon asked,
sounding deeply concerned.
“I’m sorry!” I scoffed. “I didn’t realise that it was something
to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed.”
“Well, it certainly sounds like it!” I barked.
He took my hand. “It’s not you that I’ve got a
problem with, it’s them .”
I didn’t believe him. His mother had been lovely. She’d
walked around the park with me twice, then come back into my flat, made me
another cup of tea and set up a DVD for me to watch. Then she’d stayed with me,
until Simon arrived. She didn’t seem like somebody with a problem to me.
“What? What problem?”
“Can we not talk about them, please?” he asked.
“But they’re our baby’s grandparents. If there’s something I
should know …”
“There’s nothing to know, I just don’t find them very …
tolerant. I don’t know what you thought you were doing building cots in your
condition anyway. I told you I’d help with things like that.”
“And I told you I could manage,” I snapped. Then I
realised that he was right. I did need his help, and what was more, he needed
to be involved. This was our baby, not mine. “You can clear away the
dishes if you want to help,” I smiled.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said, grabbing the plates together.
“I just emptied a jar.”
He smiled. “Do you mind if I stick around for a bit?”
“What for?” I asked, automatically. Then I smiled. Over the
last few weeks, I’d enjoyed him popping in and out.
“Well, you’ve had a bit of a funny day, haven’t you? And my
family were partly responsible.”
“No, they were lovely. The mania was less delightful.”
“What will you do tomorrow?”
“I’ve already booked in to see my doctor.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Just sit with me for a bit? Maybe we could watch a
film …”
“Sounds good to me.”
We cleared away the dinner dishes. I still felt slightly
embarrassed when we were in a kitchen together, but at least this was not the kitchen.
“How’s your training going by the way?”
“Not bad actually, I ran twenty miles at the weekend.”
“Twenty miles? Are you serious?”
He nodded.
“That’s amazing! Where did you go?”
“Mostly on the coast. Running on snow is apparently similar
to running on sand.”
“You ran twenty miles on sand?”
“Only four weeks left until the race,” he pointed out.
I swallowed.
“You are all right, aren’t you? About me going to
Antarctica.”
“I don’t own you!” I laughed. In all honesty, I was dreading
his ten-day excursion to the southern hemisphere. Nicky and Dave were great,
but at the end of the day, they weren’t the baby’s father and I didn’t feel
comfortable asking them for help with some of the bigger things on my mind.
What if, God forbid, our baby had a physical problem that
the ultrasound missed? What special treatment would he need? Would he even live
to see Simon return from Antarctica?
My fears weren’t limited to the baby’s health. If my mood
didn’t stabilise, how would I be able to raise even a healthy baby? What if I
couldn’t cope? What if I needed somebody to change him in the night, or give
him a bottle while I was sleeping?
Then I remembered that Simon wouldn’t be able to do those
things either. He had a job to go to and even though he’d helped me find a
house close to his, he was still a car drive away. I tried to smile.
“Obviously, if the baby’s late, I won’t go. I’m not missing
the birth for the world.”
“Wait, you want to be at the birth?”
He looked suddenly concerned. “Unless you don’t want me
there.”
I surprised myself by looking straight into his eyes and
saying, “No, actually, I think I do.”
* * *
The morning of the
soothed me and gave me hope for the future. Raising my son would be so much
easier with such an understanding grandmother.
Chapter 8
“You told my parents that you’re bipolar?” Simon asked,
sounding deeply concerned.
“I’m sorry!” I scoffed. “I didn’t realise that it was something
to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed.”
“Well, it certainly sounds like it!” I barked.
He took my hand. “It’s not you that I’ve got a
problem with, it’s them .”
I didn’t believe him. His mother had been lovely. She’d
walked around the park with me twice, then come back into my flat, made me
another cup of tea and set up a DVD for me to watch. Then she’d stayed with me,
until Simon arrived. She didn’t seem like somebody with a problem to me.
“What? What problem?”
“Can we not talk about them, please?” he asked.
“But they’re our baby’s grandparents. If there’s something I
should know …”
“There’s nothing to know, I just don’t find them very …
tolerant. I don’t know what you thought you were doing building cots in your
condition anyway. I told you I’d help with things like that.”
“And I told you I could manage,” I snapped. Then I
realised that he was right. I did need his help, and what was more, he needed
to be involved. This was our baby, not mine. “You can clear away the
dishes if you want to help,” I smiled.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said, grabbing the plates together.
“I just emptied a jar.”
He smiled. “Do you mind if I stick around for a bit?”
“What for?” I asked, automatically. Then I smiled. Over the
last few weeks, I’d enjoyed him popping in and out.
“Well, you’ve had a bit of a funny day, haven’t you? And my
family were partly responsible.”
“No, they were lovely. The mania was less delightful.”
“What will you do tomorrow?”
“I’ve already booked in to see my doctor.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Just sit with me for a bit? Maybe we could watch a
film …”
“Sounds good to me.”
We cleared away the dinner dishes. I still felt slightly
embarrassed when we were in a kitchen together, but at least this was not the kitchen.
“How’s your training going by the way?”
“Not bad actually, I ran twenty miles at the weekend.”
“Twenty miles? Are you serious?”
He nodded.
“That’s amazing! Where did you go?”
“Mostly on the coast. Running on snow is apparently similar
to running on sand.”
“You ran twenty miles on sand?”
“Only four weeks left until the race,” he pointed out.
I swallowed.
“You are all right, aren’t you? About me going to
Antarctica.”
“I don’t own you!” I laughed. In all honesty, I was dreading
his ten-day excursion to the southern hemisphere. Nicky and Dave were great,
but at the end of the day, they weren’t the baby’s father and I didn’t feel
comfortable asking them for help with some of the bigger things on my mind.
What if, God forbid, our baby had a physical problem that
the ultrasound missed? What special treatment would he need? Would he even live
to see Simon return from Antarctica?
My fears weren’t limited to the baby’s health. If my mood
didn’t stabilise, how would I be able to raise even a healthy baby? What if I
couldn’t cope? What if I needed somebody to change him in the night, or give
him a bottle while I was sleeping?
Then I remembered that Simon wouldn’t be able to do those
things either. He had a job to go to and even though he’d helped me find a
house close to his, he was still a car drive away. I tried to smile.
“Obviously, if the baby’s late, I won’t go. I’m not missing
the birth for the world.”
“Wait, you want to be at the birth?”
He looked suddenly concerned. “Unless you don’t want me
there.”
I surprised myself by looking straight into his eyes and
saying, “No, actually, I think I do.”
* * *
The morning of the
Similar Books
