Oooops

Surprisingly, the front door is unlocked. Dee rushes through it into the house and
spies Effie’s backpack lying scrunched outside her bedroom door. It’s been a while - lately their only physical contact being the dash past one-another on the way in and out.

And sometimes late at night Dee hears her house-mate. Muffled rattle of key in front door - whack whack of footsteps to bedroom - click – light switch on – whack whack of footsteps up the hall to bathroom – whack whack back down the hall to bedroom - click – light switch off. As well, there are the hurriedly scrawled notes magnetised to the fridge: Hi, away for weekend – catch up for dinner next week? Dee xx - Sorry, used last of yoghurt, will replace today. - Ef, Your mum called, plse phone her. - et cetera.

Effie sits at the kitchen table listlessly turning a box of Redhead matches from end to end. Her arms are all kind of limp - like two strips of Nana’s boiled-to-buggery cabbage. No oomph. She looks up as Dee strides in.

‘Hi Ef. Great to see you...you’re looking a bit out of steam, love.’ Walks over and plants a big kiss on her check.
‘Yeah, one could say that...’
‘Well, even Superwoman has to run out of energy supplies sometime...right?’
‘Oh Dee. I’m in so much trouble...’

Suddenly, her mouth forms a horrible grimace and crimson erupts in her cheeks and before Dee has had time to lean forward to embrace her - the monsoon of hot, salty tears certifies all attempted dialogue is indecipherable. Together they become a vessel tossing to-and-fro on the stormy waters of Effie’s body-wrenching sobs, until finally semi-coherence pushes through.

‘I can’t remember if I told you Dee, but for...I don’t know how long...I’ve been getting these kind of...niggles in my stomach...sob. Nothing really bad...just kind of a bit uncomfortable, so I decided not to worry and just go to the Docs to get a check up...when I finished the Masters. And...you know...I’ve put of heaps of weight...’
‘Yeah, but you always do that when you’re full-on studying, Ef.’
‘Yeah...exactly...’

A Mini-monsoon breaks out then semi-control is restored. ‘Anyhow, the minute I finished study a couple of weeks ago, I joined Weight Watchers and...sob...I’ve been going to the gym...sob...doing weight-training...sob...’ Effie’s always been one for a good story – likes to get the whole thing out – from beginning to end – keep you in suspense – even if it’s killing her.
‘And anyway, I just thought it was appendicitis or something.’
‘...yeah...’ says it like; yeeeaaahhh.
‘Well. I’m pregnant.’
‘Oh.’ Dee bites down on her lip. ‘Did you talk to your Doctor about abortion Ef? I mean – it’s not great, but...well...you know – better than the other option if it’s not an option.’ It’s not like she’s a Catholic or a staunch Pro-lifer or anything. A little dribble of clear fluid runs from nostril down towards Effie’s upper lip.
‘Dee...’
‘...yeah?’ says it like; yeeeaaahhh?
‘It’s due in six weeks.’