My mum nods. “We wanted to use a family name, hence Charlotte, but as soon as you started to grow, we knew that it wasn’t fully you. You will always be a Lottie.”
I nod, thinking about how I never actually use my full name. Although I love it, it’s just never fitted as well as Lottie does.
“I have a few ideas of some I like. Do you want to see?”
“Is the sky blue?”
I laugh, digging through my bag to find my phone and show her some options. And that is how my dad finds us an hour later, pages deep on baby websites with Mum throwing out the most ridiculous suggestions. Although I will never use any of them, I entertain each and every one, even when she starts suggesting fruits.
The next three days with them are everything I could have hoped for and more. I don’t see anyone else except them, us attempting to make up for our all lost time over the past year. It’s chaotic, loud, and full on, but it’s also perfect.
After the time spent with my parents, weeks continue to trickle by and soon enough, I’m only seven weeks away from my due date. My stomach gets bigger by the day, my closet no longer catering to my needs. The full brunt of my frustrations comes out when I’m scheduled to go to dinner with Owen and his brother.
“I’m sick of nothing fitting me!” I yell out, tossing my black skirt onto my bedroom floor, which is already littered with shit I can’t be bothered to fold, let alone put away. I huff, sitting on the edge of my bed in nothing but my bra and undies.
I look in the mirror, my bleached hair now a mess with brown roots over three inches long bleeding into my blonde hair that rests way past my shoulders.
“Why don’t you just wear a dress?” Stana’s sweet voice infiltrates my ears, and I wish I could be calm like her. Too bad everything irritates me these days. I still have time to go, but I’m ready for this to be over.
“I don’t want to wear a dress,” I whine, knowing full well I sound like a petulant child. “I just wanted to wear that skirt.” I eye the small black thing on the floor with deep disdain. My ever-changing body has finally hit the point of no return for many of my wardrobe items.
“I know, love, but the skirt doesn’t fit right now.” Stana’s hand comes to rest upon my arm, getting my attention. “It will fit eventually once your little girl is born, but right now it doesn’t, and that’s perfectly okay. So why don’t I pick something else out, something even better than that skirt, and then we can have a tea before Owen gets here.”
I nod, feeling annoyed at myself that I’m irritated at a stupid fucking skirt.
“How about this one?”
Stana holds up a knee-length black velvet dress, tight on the top and loose on the bottom. I know it already fits because of the stretchy material, so it’s worth putting on.
I reach for it, and Stana passes it my way, not even remotely fazed by my temper tantrum. After quickly pulling it over my head, I’m happily surprised with how it looks when I turn to the mirror. Most days I don’t feel that great and it’s impacting my niceness to people, niceness that was already weary to begin with. So it’s a comfort to finally feel pretty for a night.
“See, Lottie, this looks beautiful.” Stana hands me my hot-pink Dr. Martens to finish the outfit off.
“Ugh, you’re right. This doesn’t look bad,” I tell her, now wanting to laugh at the ping-pong of emotions rocketing through me.
She nudges my side. “I know you’re going through a lot, but you deserve to enjoy today.”
“I know, I just think everything is catching up to me and I’m not really sure how to feel about it. I mean, this baby is coming so soon and although I’m excited, I’m also scared shitless. And I miss my parents even though I literally saw them last month. I think I’m just feeling it all.”
“I think most people feel that way. Granted, you’re definitely in different circumstances than some, but I have zero doubt in my mind you can do this.”
I nod.
“But with that being said, you’re allowed to have a bad day. You can have as many bad days as you want, but I’m going to be here to make sure when that happens, I can kick those pesky little thoughts straight out of your mind.”
“What would I do without you, Stana?”
She helps me finally pull myself together before Owen messages me that he’s out front.
“Okay, I need to go, but I’ll message you later?”
“Sounds good.”
We exit the flat and I meet Owen, not knowing this night isn’t going to end as planned.
“Did you have a bad time tonight?”
Owen’s voice catches me off guard as I throw my jacket onto my couch, not caring when it misses and hits the floor. I stare at it for a few moments before turning around, confronting him. Finally, time to face the music.
“No, Owen, I had a great time,” I reply honestly, yet I know he hears the lingering hesitation in my voice.
“But?” He tilts his head to the side, his signature smile having disappeared on the drive home when he was met with my single-word replies and silence. Owen and I know each other well, in some respects too well for two people who are just friends. Hence how we’ve ended up at this impasse.
“I just,” I begin before shaking my head, not wanting to hurt him in the process.
His face hardens slightly. “Say it, Lottie. Everyone always says how blunt and to the point you are, so be that person. Tell me what’s bothering you and then we can fix it.”
“But that’s the
