February 22nd 2016

I've kinda alluded to this before, but after last night's 'conversation' I think we need to explore it more. Things to know- the Tube is the London underground (the subway system in London). Daft means stupid. I think that's everything. Chapter photo is of the Roksanda dress Sophie bought. Sarah xx

~*~*~

"Are you home?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because you and I need to have a chat."

"A chat I have to be home to have?"

"Yes, I don't want you shouting at me while you're in public."

"Ok, that doesn't sound promising. Why would I be shouting at you?"

"Because it's personal and you might not like it. Considering how you snapped at me last night, I'm expecting you to throw a fit."

"I'm listening."

"What is it with you and baby talk?"

"Baby talk? Like, I speak like a baby? Coochie coo?"

"No, Sophie. A few times now, when I've mentioned children- or more specifically- you having children, you react weirdly. I want to know why. I mean, if as simple as the fact that you hate kids-"

"I don't hate kinds."

"Ok, so you like children. But you don't want them?"

"..."

"Ha, see! You're silent again."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. An explanation about why you react the way you do would be nice."

"I want children."

"But you said-"

"I want children. I won't be a good mother, though. I'll probably leave them on the Tube, going round and round on the Central line."

"You won't. Is this because you're single?"

"Not, this isn't because I'm single. Don't be daft."

"Well, isn't you biological clock ticking?"

"I'm twenty-nine, Daniel, not seventy-nine."

"Then, what's the reason?"

"..."

"Sophie-"

"I can't have children."

"Excuse me?"

"I found out a few years ago that I can't have children. Well, I can, but the chances are slim. I was pregnant once and... the embryo formed in my fallopian tube, not in the uterus. They call it an ectopic pregnancy. The fallopian tube ruptured. I collapsed and was rushed to hospital. When I woke up, I was told that my chances of conceiving was only fifty per cent. So, yes, I get a little touchy when someone mentions me having children."

"..."

"You can hang up now. You won't be the first to not know what to say to me."

"I'm not hanging up. Fifty per cent isn't bad odds, you know. Some women have a zero per cent chance."

"Oh, you're one of those people."

"Those people?"

"An optimist. Glass half full."

"So, just because you only have a fifty per cent chance, you've given up?"

"I'd rather not try and be disappointed when it doesn't happen for me. I think I'm more of a cool aunt kind of person, if I'm honest."

"You could always adopt."

"I know."

"But?"

"You were kinda right when you said that half of this was because I'm single. Like I said, I'd be a terrible mum, it would be nice to have someone sensible to balance me out. Until then, it isn't happening. Anyway, most guys run away when they hear that I can't have kids."

"Ok, first of all, stop saying that you can't. You can. It might be harder than for other people, that's all."

"Secondly?"

"If a guy runs from you just based on whether or not you can have children, then they're not the one for you. You should be with someone because you love them, not for any other reason."

"You're smooth with your words, you know."

"I've been told so before. Can I ask you about the guy?"

"Which one?"

"The father."

"Ah. Him. He didn't stick around after."

"Wanker."

"Haha, thanks. With hindsight, he wasn't the best boyfriend. We were young and stupid. He would never have balanced me out. Two kids having a kid? Last I heard, he was in a rock band called Das Kid Cooper."

"Never heard of them."

"No one has. They're shit."

"So, uh... you're set on not having kids?"

"For now. If the right guy came along... I mean, I'm not against the idea of being a mum."

"I said it before, I'll say it again, you'd make a great mum."

"I'd have to give up my job, of course."

"Give it up? No offence, but I don't see you giving it up."

"My working hours aren't conducive to child rearing."

"That sounded... cold."

"Yeah, I just heard it back in my head. I meant, you know, I couldn't juggle travelling and early mornings, photo shoots and fashion week with a baby. A baby is for life, not just for Christmas."

"A baby is not a puppy, Sophie."

"A baby would be easier than a puppy. A baby cries and it's one of four things- they're either hungry, tired, need a nappy change or they want attention. Puppies? They whine because their ball got stuck behind the sofa or because they saw their reflection in the mirror or because they've noticed the nail in the wall and they want to play fetch with it. Puppies cry over everything."

"Not to self- never get Sophie a puppy. What are your feelings about cats?"

"Cats? Not my thing. I'm a tortoise kind of girl. Those things hibernate for six months."

"Yeah, you'd be a crap mother."

"That's not cheering me up, just for you to know."

"I was joking."

"I know."

"But it wasn't funny?"

"Not really, no."

"Sorry."

"So you should be."

"I think you're liking this make-Daniel-awkward thing a tad too much."

"You know it."

"Can I ask you something else?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

"May I?"

"Shoot."

"Why did you tell me? About what happened to you?"

"Because you asked. And because I trusted you."

"You trusted me?"

"I still do trust you."

"Well... thank you. Do you want me to entrust you with a story?"

"Not unless you want to tell me. This isn't a tit for tat thing."

"So, how much of fashion week is left?"

"Just tomorrow."

"Did you spend more money today?"

"Don't! I'm dreading seeing my bank statement next month!"

"What did you add to your collection?"

"A dress from Huishan Zhang. Another dress from Erdem. Another dress from Roksanda. And another fress from Antonio Berardi."

"Four dresses? That's all?"

"It was a good day."

"One day more."

"I love Les Mis!"

"Ok?"

"Never mind. If you haven't seen the show or the film, you won't get it."

"What will you do on Wednesday, then?"

"Easy. Sleep. I need my cloud!"

"Well, if that's the case, I shall leave you to get a head start on getting yourself reacquainted with your cloud."

"Thanks, Daniel. You're the best."

"Haha. I know."

"You're an idiot."

"But I'm the best idiot."

"And they call me weird."

"Good night, Sophie."

"Night, Daniel."