Late February

First semester of Gab’s second year at uni was starting in a week. Gab was spending all her time at home, failing to keep her mind off the whole spiralling situation. The phone had started ringing again and again with an unknown number, but whoever it was would never leave a message. Gina called too, asking about River and telling Gab that she feared her cold symptoms were really pneumonia. Gab wanted to disappear to where no one could find her and her baby, or bother them. Could she? Could she run away? Move countries? New Zealand sounded nice. After a week of Gab ignoring phone calls from the unknown number, the caller left a message one morning. It was Robbie.

“Hi, it’s Robbie. Can you call me? Bye.”

As if, Gab thought.

But he called again that day. And again. And by three o’clock in the afternoon he’d worn her down. When the phone rang, her thumb pressed ‘answer’, even as her brain was a screaming red siren: NO! NO! NO!

“Hello?”

“Gab? It’s Robbie.”

She was silent. Her whole universe rushed through her in that moment—mainly River—and she instinctively stood up, as though to protect him, while he gurgled happily on a mat on the floor.

“How did you get my number?” Gab asked.

“Steph.”

“Oh. Um, what else did Steph tell you?” She didn’t want to give away more than she had to.

“That you have a baby now.”

“Oh yeah, I do,” said Gab feebly. “He was born three months ago.” She wished it would all end. Why did Robbie have to exist?

“Did you tell Tory about that party last year?”

“No.”

“Who did?”

Should she rat on Steph? She was so eager not to be in trouble herself.

“Steph did.” It slipped out.

“Damn it! Why?”

“I don’t know. Ask Steph.”

“So, you really have a baby?” he asked.

“Yes.” She’d already told him that.

“I thought Tory was joking!”

“No. It’s true,” said Gab.

“But it’s not … I mean, I don’t even know … ”

“It happened at Steph and Dylan’s party,” said Gab quietly, surprising herself. Whatever had happened to keeping Robbie out? Suddenly that intention was out the window, turfed out by the unruly, strange part of her that had just answered Robbie’s call. It would have been so much easier to say it wasn’t his and to leave it at that. But somehow, she couldn’t. It was his responsibility too.

“You think it’s mine? Don’t play that game! It can’t be mine! I don’t even know what happened. Probably nothing!”

“Then why did you call? Something happened, Robbie. I have a baby now. And … it has to be yours.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t you dare talk to my girlfriend again.”

“Okay. But just so you know, she called me,” retorted Gab. If she’s still your girlfriend, she mentally added.

“I don’t care. And don’t come to me for support either, pretending it’s my baby when it’s not. I bet you’ve said that to all the guys you’ve slept with! You’re a gold digger.”

“NO,” Gab almost screamed. “I’m not! I hadn’t ever … ” She wanted to strangle the idiot; the hypocrisy made her livid.

And then, an entirely different feeling washed over her, as though the ghost of her missing father appeared before her in a flash.

“Don’t … you want to meet him?” she whispered.

“Who?”

“Your son.”

Silence.

“Not unless you prove he’s mine,” said Robbie.

“Do you … want me to prove it?” asked Gab.

“I don’t know. Do you want to prove it?” he asked back, suddenly with the harsh edge worn off his voice so that it came as a genuine question.

“I don’t know,” replied Gab honestly.

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

And Robbie hung up.