‘Aargh. Do you know how weird it would be for me to have a sibling now? When I’m seventeen? How could my parents do this to me?’ I fumed.

‘Err . . . it has nothing to do with you,’ she reminded me wryly.

I sighed. ‘Nisha, stop being an ass, please? My parents could have had a baby any time in all these years. But now? Ugh!’

‘What exactly is ugh?’ she asked.

I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s kinda gross, okay? They’re my parents. I can’t imagine them getting it on,’ I shuddered.

Nisha winced. ‘Then don’t imagine it. Just think of that little sweet-smelling powder puff you’re going to have at home soon!’

‘Sweet smelling? Please. I’m pretty sure they’re either demanding to be fed or they’re crapping all the time.’

‘When you have a little baby brother or sister, you’re going to be amazed,’ she said, looking sure of herself.

Her words were just making me angry. Why wasn’t she being more understanding? I thought that she of all people would get it.

‘I hate it when you start giving me a positive spin on everything,’ I said furiously. There were times when her constant positivity made me angry because I just wanted to let off some steam.

‘Yeah, but you love me anyway. Look, we’re almost grown-ups. We’ll be in college soon, we’ll get jobs and move out eventually. It will be nice for your parents to have someone at home too, right?’

I listened in silence.

‘They could have got a dog. That’s what everyone else does!’ I muttered after a while.

Nisha cocked her head and looked at me, also in silence, so I felt compelled to add more.

‘They’re not that old,’ I said, not particularly thrilled about the thought of my parents being lonely.

‘See? Exactly. That’s why they can have another baby now. It’s okay,’ she said.

I rubbed the back of my neck vigorously. What she said made sense even though I didn’t want it to.

3

I felt a little guilty about the way I had been treating Ma so I went looking for her. When I didn’t find her at home, I called her phone.

‘I’m back home. Where are you?’ I asked.

‘I left you messages. You didn’t see?’ Her voice was a little muffled. Where was she?

‘No. Why? Where are you?’

‘At the gynaecologist,’ she said. What? Already?

‘But you just found out yesterday!’

‘At my age, sweetie, you can’t be too careful,’ she said. ‘Okay, I have to go now.’ She hung up and I continued staring at my phone.

At her age?

Mom was just forty-three. But . . . having a baby at her age . . . I suddenly felt a spasm of fear. What if something went wrong and she died? All because of this stupid baby.