Something unexpected: a short story
#4 Freya reels from shock
This is an instalment from the short story series about Freya. Each fortnight, I bring you a new piece of fiction centred on the character of Freya. Learn more about the series and Freya here. This piece should still read as a standalone, but you can read the last instalment here.
She is in the queue at the Post Office when the text comes through. It is met with an audible gasp, followed by a loud “FUCK” that escapes involuntarily. Freya covers her mouth, remembering where she is. Strangers in front of her in the queue turn to stare. One woman tuts and shakes her head, grabbing hold of her child’s hand to pull them in closer. The text, from Freya’s friend, Mollie, reads: We’ve got some news to share, it’s a HUGE surprise but the best kind… <3 The text is captioning a photo of a sonogram. Freya’s friend is pregnant.
Momentarily, Freya thinks she might be sick. It’s Monday morning and she’s hungover. She went on a second date yesterday that escalated from a walk in the park, to a drink at the pub, to two bottles of wine, a shot of tequila, a cocktail at a listening bar and going back to his. They fell asleep at 1am and he turfed her out just before 7 so that he could still make it to F45. She’s not planning on seeing him again.
The idea of a surprise pregnancy being a source of joy is unfathomable to Freya. The visceral shock of it makes her stuff her phone deep inside her bag without replying. There have been other babies: cousins, friends of friends, and siblings of friends. This will be the first person in Freya’s close circle to do it.
Leaving the Post Office, she decides she needs a coffee. Her third of the day. The caffeine and extra sugar will help, she thinks.
Practically, Freya knows it makes sense. Mollie and Kiran have been together for five years. They’re engaged. She’s 29, he’s 35. They both work in extremely well-paid jobs in finance. Their combined household income is over £250k a year. They own the house they live in, a three-bed maisonette in Highbury they got together two years ago. Kiran already owned the large studio flat he lived in before. Bought with the help of his parents, mortgage paid off within seven years. On paper, the stars have aligned.
But the reality of one of her closest friends having a baby makes Freya feel a deeply selfish sense of loss.
She realises she’s going to cry. The grief of her friend becoming a mother strikes like a slap across the face. Freya cannot even begin to envisage a world in which she would have a baby right now. It is Mollie’s certainty that intimidates her most. The security she has garnered and built her life upon since they met at university. Mollie has quietly but assuredly laid the foundations for the rest of her life. The finality of becoming a parent, the rigidity of it, is so unnerving to Freya and the fabric of her life as it currently looks.
Walking back home through the park, Freya stops and sits at a bench. She scans for children, looking into the faces of their parents, guardians, and the adults responsible for them. A burden, she thinks, that no one can ever decide to backtrack on.
Around her, the park is barren from the recurrent heatwaves and lack of rain. Dust patches sporadically mark the places where grass used to be, like grazes over legs and knees. What about the state of things, Freya thinks. The climate crisis and the rise of the far-right. The world that babies and children will inherit from us may well be irreparable. Is having a baby in 2026 a fair decision?
Attuned to it now, she hears laughter in the distance. A loud giggle. Earnest and unselfconscious. Children see everything with such magic; maybe we’re underestimating the kind of good they’ll hopefully continue to impart on the world.
She thinks logically about what an amazing mum Mollie will be. How caring and observant she is. How responsible and prepared. She’s never late and always has hand sanitiser in her handbag. Freya lets out a small huff of laughter thinking about Mollie at uni, betting some boy at the bar she could strawpedo her VK faster than him, did it and made him buy them all a round of drinks. Her confident and resourceful friend. It could be yesterday.
Softened, slightly, like the inside of a toffee chocolate eclair, Freya begins to think what a privilege it is to watch your friends and the people you love do new things. Embarking on journeys that will lead them to become new versions of themselves. How strange it will be to see a little person that Mollie’s made. Who’ll have her eyes or her nose.
Still, she desperately wishes there was more time. They never went to Ibiza together. They didn’t go out dancing in enough clubs, or get drunk and irresponsible enough. What if there’s never another sleepover? The shift begins to make Freya question her own wants and desires. She’s projecting and she can begin to separate what’s her stuff from Mollie’s. Mollie would hate Ibiza.
Standing up from the bench to begin her final leg home, Freya drafted her reply.
OMG I honestly cannot believe it Mollie!!! The entire post office knows your big news because I screamed when the text came through, hope that’s okay.
WOW congratulations!!!! How exciting.
You’re going to be someone’s MUM wtf?!? A new tiny little person to join us on adventures. Can’t wait to squeeze you (gently) at Liv’s birthday. Let’s get lunch soon. I love you xxxxx
