Fullepub 
Fern
FERN
Mercifully, Rose doesn’t say much on the way home. I don’t either. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have, because that incredible sense of fatigue that always follows a sensory meltdown overcomes me. I feel like my eyelids have weights on them. I let them close and lean my head against the cool window. I’m starting to drift off when the car comes to a stop.
“We’re home,” Rose says softly.
I open my eyes. “No, we’re not.”
“Okay,” she says. “We’re at my home.”
“I’m exhausted, Rose,” I say, although it must be no later than eight o’clock. “I want to go home.”
Rose opens her door. “You can sleep here tonight.”
“No, thanks.”
“Fern,” she snaps. “After everything that has gone on tonight, please do me a favor and don’t argue.”
I cross my arms. I don’t like sleeping at other people’s houses as a rule, not even Rose’s. I never sleep well. Admittedly, I don’t exactly sleep well anywhere, and it’s worse than usual lately as I have to get up multiple times a night to pee. But tonight, especially after everything that’s happened, I just want my own bed.
“Fern. I don’t have time for this. I had back-to-back meetings today and was only just on my way home when I get the call that you’ve had a spectacular meltdown and I have to come and rescue you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to do it, but I’m tired and the least you can do is come inside.” She gets out of the car.
“If you’re too tired to drive me,” I say, also getting out, “I’ll walk home—”
“Fern Elizabeth Castle!” Her tone is sharp, like a schoolteacher’s. “You’re staying here, and that’s final.”
“It’s not final. I’m an adult, Rose. I can choose where I sleep.”
Rose raises her eyebrows. “If you’re an adult, why do I need to be your round-the-clock carer?”
Rose and I face off for several moments. That’s when I notice what she is wearing. “If you were on your way home from work, why are you wearing leggings?”
“Really, Fern?” Rose stares at me. “After I’ve driven across town to rescue you, you want to talk about what I’m wearing?”
I want to tell her that yes, I do want to talk about that, but I can’t because Rose turns and stalks into the house before I have the chance. I remain where I am for several moments, huffing and sighing, before finally following her into the house.
As suspected, I sleep badly. Among other things, the sheets on Rose’s spare bed are some sort of polyester blend that makes my skin crawl (I make a note to talk to her about it tomorrow). But the sheets aren’t the main reason for my insomnia. The main reason is that I can’t stop replaying last night, reliving the horror over and over again. Me crawling under the table, covering my head with my hands. Cowering like a child. Having to be rescued by my sister while on a date. It’s little wonder Rose treats me like a child. That’s exactly how I’m behaving. What on earth must Wally think?
Around 6:00 A.M., I give up on sleep, pull on my rainbow dress, and head to the living room. Rose is already up, sipping a cup of tea on the couch in her dressing gown.
“You’re awake early,” she says.
“I don’t sleep well at other people’s places,” I say, stretching my neck. Even though I told her this last night, I feel it bears repeating.
“That dress looks itchy,” Rose says. “Polyester?”
“Yes. Like your sheets.”
“I can give you a T-shirt and shorts if you like?”
“No, thanks,” I say. Unlike the sheets, the dress is worth the itch.
Rose sits forward on the couch and places her mug on the coffee table. “Tea?”
I’m about to decline but then I realize I won’t get out of here without at least having a warm drink with Rose, so I ask for a coffee. I intend to drink it quickly so I can go home to do my yoga and get the rest of my day back on track.
While Rose is making my coffee, I notice Alfie scratching at the door, so I walk over and let him inside. I am closing the back door when I notice the base of a structure in the far corner of the garden. It looks like a cubby house in the process of construction. “What’s that?”
Rose walks out of the kitchen carrying a pink mug. “What’s what? Oh.” She gets a sheepish look about her. “Actually, I want to talk to you about that.” She hands me my coffee and points at the couch. “Sit.”
I remain standing. “What is it?”
Rose sits and crosses her legs. “I know you don’t like staying at other people’s houses, Fern. I know how important your routine is. And that’s why … I was thinking … well, what if this was your place?”
I put my coffee down. “I don’t understand. Where are you going?”
She frowns. “Nowhere. I will stay in the main house. And you … would move in there.” She points outside at the structure. “It’s a granny flat. It could be your own little place … at my place.”
“You’ve already started building it?”
“I was going to surprise you. But … now you’re here and…” She gives a little shrug and a guilty smile. I look again at the structure. It looks like a children’s playhouse. An oversize dollhouse. Not a place for an adult to live.
“It will be bigger than it looks now,” Rose says, reading my thoughts. “Once it’s finished, obviously. It will have a bathroom and a kitchenette. It will even have air-conditioning!”
“My flat already has air-conditioning.”
“But your place is blocks away! This way, you’d be right here.”
Rose smiles, but she sounds impatient. Even a little annoyed. So I do my best to disguise my horror at the idea of moving into her backyard doll’s house.
“Fern … don’t you want to be here? After the baby’s born, don’t you want to be a part of his or her life? See him or her every single day?”
I think about this. “Yes.”
“Well, while you’re pregnant, I want to see you every single day. You get that, right? I want to be here for you in case you need anything.” Now she smiles cajolingly. “Ice cream, perhaps? A foot rub?”
Rose stands, picks up my coffee from the coffee table, and hands it to me. I don’t have a problem with living with Rose, per se. I’ve lived with Rose for over half of my life. It isn’t even the fact that I am reluctant to upset my routine—I suspected my pregnancy was going to do its fair share of that anyway. It’s the fact that, in saying yes to moving in, I’d be saying no to another life. A life where I’m not entirely dependent on Rose. A life that I’ve been enjoying recently.
“But I like my place,” I say carefully. “I like … my independence.”
But it feels ridiculous, just saying it aloud. I still have dinner with Rose three times a week, I still call her whenever there is the slightest drama in my life. How independent am I really? Rose doesn’t respond, so I guess she’s wondering the same thing.
I look down at my coffee.
“Is this about Rocco?” Rose asks, after a short time.
“No,” I say. “And yes.”
“I know you like him, Fern. But there is no happy ending to this, you know that, right?” Rose’s voice is softer now. “You saw how it went last night. Rocco is doing well right now. Getting himself started in a new business, traveling. The last thing he needs is to get himself into a complicated relationship. Fern, you’re going to be showing soon. What will you tell him then?” She doesn’t give me time to answer. “I really think it’s better for everyone if you end it with him sooner rather than later.”
I hate it, but I know she’s right. Last night proved it. Wally and I can’t have a normal relationship. We can’t even go out for dinner without it turning into a disaster. She’s also right that I’ll be showing soon. How would I explain that to Wally? Yes, I’m pregnant, but don’t worry—my sister is going to raise our baby?
“All right,” I say. “I’ll move in.”
Rose nods but looks at me expectantly.
“And I’ll break up with Wally.”
Rose nods again. She doesn’t smile, but I can tell that she’s happy with my decision. She leans in for a hug, but this time I’m too fast. I dodge her and head to the kitchen. I can move in and break up with Wally. But a hug on top of that is more than I can take. At least for today.
