Applause

*Early teen pregnancy*

“Put your hands together for Miss Incola Nullius!” Amans kissed her hand for all to see, and they bowed to the crowd's applause. It was a percussive texture of a thousand golden raindrops on a window. He turned and whispered to her, “Sweet dove, you are my marvel.”

Incola suppressed an acrid burp, held her arms up, and the crowd fell silent in anticipation as Amans left the stage. From behind her, the first tones of the violin played an F major chord, its notes warm and familiar.

She searched for her parents’ faces on their balcony. Father was reading a book while mother inched forward, her black hair glowing in the candlelight.

Deep breath.

Her voice filled the hall, stretching and pushing against the rafters. This was the moment where she was truly seen. Not as the daughter of the Nullius family, not as a prop at her parents’ luncheons or garden parties, but as Amans' chosen one. As herself. Incola.

The world was immersed in a beautiful glow from the millions of lit candles. Her dress sparkled in their light as if it were the sea on a sunny day. She sang about the poet king. A touching song, about improbable love, about her. She held her hand on her belly, which pushed against her corset.

Tonight was the last night on the planks, as Amans called it. They would run away together. The word elope sang through her mind. She held on to a small hope that her parents would understand. It wouldn’t be a child out of wedlock… They had just started early.

She didn’t mind marrying him. She wanted nothing more, but he was still married to foolish, old Umbra. She didn’t love Amans as Incola did. That crow didn’t understand him as she did. He’d told her that when he had buried himself in her for the first time, five months ago. Now, the fruit of their love was almost impossible to hide. Thank the stars for corsets.

The last note faded, the crowd stood, and applause rattled the candles in their sticks. She bowed. Amans hurried back onto the podium, carrying a bouquet of her favorite flowers in his white-gloved hands.

Incola shot a glance at Amans’ wife, who clapped, blissfully ignorant as the curtains closed. Incola waved at the crowd one last time. Goodbye. Goodbye, old life. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss Amans on the lips, but he shied away.

“Not here, my sweet dove. Later,” he said, not meeting her eyes. He turned on his heel. Leaving Incola alone with her flowers. Before she could consider protesting, she was hit by a wave of nausea. She barely made it to a porcelain chamber pot she had hidden behind the piano in the first weeks of her pregnancy.

Soggy toast and half-digested sugar plums spattered into the bowl. She dabbed her mouth with the handkerchief that was carefully hidden in her bosom, then hooted in surprise when she spotted her parents walking toward her.

“You missed the note on the first high C,” her father grumbled. His brown eyes stared at her from over his brown beard. “You practiced this with Mr. Vacuus, did you not?”

“I- I thought I got it,” Incola said, clenching her dirty handkerchief behind her back.

“No, darling. You didn’t,” her mother said with a sigh, brushing off some imaginary dust from her satin gloves.

Another wave of nausea hit Incola, and she had to focus everything on keeping her food down. “I will do better next time, I promise.”

Her father bristled, “Promises, promises. You have to be perfect if you want to be noteworthy. The competition-”

Mother placed her hand on his arm, and he fell quiet. “Her next show isn’t until the winter solstice. She will practice.”

Incola burped, to which her mother blinked in indignation while her father sniffed furiously. “My apologies, my breakfast isn’t sitting right with me.”

Her father raised his eyebrows and inclined his chin. “Clean yourself up, the carriage is ready.”

Incola looked around, but her lover had vanished into thin air. She had hoped to have ‘the talk’ with her parents with him by her side. Something urgent must have come up, because he had promised they would tell her parents together, and he was a man of his word, and he said he loved her. But she hated having to wait for her new life. “Have you seen Amans?”

Her mother narrowed her eyes. “Mr. Vacuus. He left with his wife mere moments ago.”

Incola swallowed away bile. Amans had said he would wait. Her fingers opened and closed, missing his support. “Are you sure?”

“Their youngest had to go straight to bed. It was throwing quite a tantrum. I can’t fathom why some families won’t use a nursing maid.” Her mother raised an eyebrow in an unasked question.

Incola shook her head. That must have been it. If his child needed him, he would be there. It was a good thing. He would do the same for their child. For her. “No matter. It can wait.”

***

Dinner was a challenge. Surrounded by all the luxuries her last name provided. Silver chimed against porcelain, and Incola ate her stew faster than was courteous. When people said you ate for two when pregnant, they lied; she ate for an entire household. The hunger, combined with the disappointment of Aman’s disappearance, agitated her.

The large grandfather clock that stood in the corner ticked.

“You really should be careful with what you eat,” her mother said, chewing on a sliver of broccoli. “Being plump is becoming for a lady. But…” She eyed her daughter’s body; her gaze lingered on her belly. On her child. Her prize. Incola had spent months hiding her growing curves. Entertaining her parents’ friends, going for promenades, when all she wanted to do was lie in bed with a chamber pot. Dreaming of her unborn child gazing up at her and the love of her life holding them. She couldn’t wait to see how Amans would be with their child.

Incola was certain her mother knew more than she let on while she scrutinized Incola’s frame as if she were a lump of clay. “The rate at which you require new dresses is alarming.”

Incola rested her hand on her belly, straining against her corset. Amans had called her radiant, tracing his fingers over her bare skin.

Father stared unseeing at one of the paintings on the wall as he sipped his wine.

The clock ticked.

“Also, your chin is starting to wobble when you sing.”

Anger swept over Incola like sick. She was done. She was done being the little girl. She wanted to scream; instead, she swallowed. She would tell them on her own. Furthermore, she was practically an adult and soon to be a wife. She should be getting used to having difficult conversations.

“There is something you need to know.”

Her father hummed, his eyes still as far away as his thoughts. Her mother’s face tightened.

“Amans and I have fallen in love.”

Tik-tik, tik-tik.

Then her father sprayed a mouthful of beans over the table. A maid hurried forward to clean it. Mother seemed to have swallowed her lips.

“Preposterous!” Father said, coughing. “You aren’t even of age to be interested in anything else except for singing and your horse.” Then his face lightened. “You haven’t ridden her in a while; maybe it’s time to pick that up again. Your form could use some work.” Then he mumbled something to her mother about women’s business and turned his attention back to his plate.

“Sweet pea,” her mother smiled, it looked painful, and placed her hand on her daughter’s.

Tik-Tik.

“-enjoy this little feeling. Nevertheless, Mr. Vacuus is a married man. If you are interested in boys, we can plan for your grand debut for next season. That would be exciting, wouldn’t it? I mean, you are a bit young, but some women flower earlier than others. I remember my first crush, he-”

Incola withdrew her hand. This would have been much easier with Amans at her side. “I am not interested in boys. I am in love with Amans, and he feels the same.”

Her parents exchanged a look which was so typical that Incola rolled her eyes.

“Did he mention such?” Father asked, his chest puffed out, readying himself for a patronizing laugh.

“Yes.” Incola swelled with joy. If only Amans could see how brave and grown-up she was. “We are expecting.”

Her mother’s fingers flew to her mouth, and she let out a small hoot in A#.

Her father looked around the room. “You are expecting what?”

“Oh no.” Mother’s complexion paled, as if Incola had just told her she had decided to stop singing and join the circus. “Oh no, my baby!” Her mother’s voice cracked.

“Can someone tell me what is going on?” Her father turned his head from Mother to Incola, bewildered and more than a little annoyed.

“She is with child,” her mother whispered.

“Nonsense! She is only twe-thirteen!”

“Fourteen!” Incola countered, holding her chin high. This was not the time for Father’s silly jokes. He had wished her a happy twelfth birthday mere months ago, and she had told him off. Obviously, it hadn’t stuck. Then she uttered the sentence Amans had whispered in her ear. “I am no child anymore.”

Her father’s eyes bulged as if they were about to pop out of his head. “I will not have a daughter that is… that has…”

“When did this start?” Her mother asked, her breath coming fast with panic. “When did that vile man touch you?”

When did it start? He had been her singing coach for years now. He had always been kind and caring, showering her with compliments. Then came her first blood, her body had begun to change, and his eyes began to light up when she entered a room. His fingers had gone from steering for good posture to caressing. Was it a year now?

It didn’t matter.

Incola stood up too fast, the chair almost toppled over. “You won’t have to worry. Amans will take care of me. He loves me. We are going to elope.”

Her mother rose, the word ‘no’ tumbled over her lips like a marble falling down the stairs. Trembling, she went over to her daughter, who wasn’t sure if she could expect a hug or a slap. Mother’s voice had taken on a pleading note. “Don’t you fret. We can make this go away. I know of a-”

“No!” Incola held her belly. Nobody was allowed to make this go away. “Mother! This baby is the result of love! I’m not letting anyone take it away from me.” Tears stung in Incola’s eyes. Why didn’t they understand? But Amans had told her that they wouldn’t. She should have listened to him. She had to go to him. Amans would make it all better.

Incola turned and ran out of the dining room, into the hall past some blank-faced staff, out the door, and into the downpour.

***

Of course, there were no carriages outside, so she decided to walk to the Vacuus residence. By the time she arrived, her hair had sunken into itself, her face burned from the cold, but she broke into a smile when a servant opened the door. “I’m here to see Mr. Vacuus.”

“The family is at dinner, if you please-”

“Oh, good, I’m hungry.” Incola pushed past the blubbering servant. Down the hall, past the stairs, and into the dining room she knew so well.

The family started as she opened the door. Three pairs of eyes swiveled her way. The toddler gaped at her mid-chew —it was unsightly. Their child would never gape like that.

“Oh, Miss. Nullius,” the crow started, her pale eyes blinked rapidly, her blond hair in an outdated updo around her head. “What an unexpected surprise. You look quite the state, are you alright?” Her eyes raked over Incola’s appearance.

Incola ignored her. “We have something to announce,” she said, her chin held high, walking to her beloved. This was it. It made her tremble, but their future would finally come to pass. Amans' eyes flit around the table.

“Miss Nullius, now is not the time,” Amans said in a patronizing tone, “We are enjoying our dinner. Maybe tomorrow-” His eyes darting around as if ten women had approached him instead of one. If he wasn’t going to be brave, she would be brave enough for them both. Like the warrior he had told her she was.

“We are in love.” Incola held onto that sentence as if it were a life raft. The table went quiet. Her beloved was so pale, as if he might faint.

His wife turned her head from her husband to her. “Dear, what is she talking about?” Her usually alto voice now touched a pitch-perfect D5 in surprise.

The blond child hadn’t moved, no doubt hoping to see through this dinner-time drama without being dismissed. When she was Aman’s wife, the girl could live with her mother. Incola had no intention of raising someone else’s children.

Amans cleared his throat. “Miss. Nullius, enough with your fantasies. I think it’s time for you to go home. We had a terrific matinee, but things have been stressful for you. Let us converse about this in the morning.”

Incola opened her mouth, closed it again. It took a moment before she could decide why the words sounded wrong. They were supposed to be gone an hour ago. “But… But you told me this morning that this was the day.” Her voice was thin. She hated it.

“The day for our last performance together,” he chuckled while his hands wrung together. Then he turned to his wife. “My sweet dove, I told you she had an eye on me.”

The crow smiled, her face bobbed, and she said gently. “That’s alright. We’ve all been young.” She turned to Incola. “I understand your feelings towards my husband are strong. He has spent so much time with you. As your coach. He isn’t in love. He is an adult.”

“He is in love with me, he told me so.” Incola flushed at how childish it sounded, but it was the truth. Her thoughts traveled to the corset hiding her bump. The certainty she had had moments before now dripped from her like wine from a cracked glass. The crow turned to her husband, her eyebrows raised. A quick motion of her chin said, Do something about this now.

He stood and took a slow step toward her. “No. No. I said I love your voice, and I love working with you. You must be confused.”

“No. You told me you loved me.” She hadn’t imagined it. He had whispered that in her ear. And not only that, they had done what married people did. “He-”

The crow set her chin and threw up her hands. “That is quite enough! You aren’t the first girl who thought herself special because of him, but just because you love him doesn’t mean he loves you too.” His wife shook her head angrily.

“I’m pregnant.”

The wife gripped the tablecloth, knuckles white. It crumpled under her fingers. “Excuse me?” G5.

Amans swallowed hard.

Incola put her hand on her belly. Finally, she relaxed her muscles. The baleens couldn’t take the pressure anymore, and her belly popped out. Nobody could deny it now. “Amans and I are expecting.”

The crow’s lips went white, her face red. She swallowed as if a giant potato was stuck in her throat. “What?” she whispered. She stared hard at the tablecloth to her right, not meeting anyone’s gaze. A million feelings flitted behind her eyes.

Amans hurried to his wife. “It’s not mine. I swear, my sweet dove,” he gripped her by the shoulders. My sweet dove. Amans hadn’t even had the creativity to call Incola something else. “It’s not mine.”

The crow’s eyes turned toward him, and the muscles in her neck stood out like wires. There was no proper way to go about this, no etiquette to be followed. The woman swallowed, got her wine glass, and took a sip. Then another. Then drained the glass.

“It is!” Incola shouted, making everyone, including the servants, wince. How could Amans lie about it?

“She made me,” Amans stuttered, rubbing his wife’s shoulders. “She seduced me.”

This couldn’t be happening. This was not how it was supposed to go. Amans should stand next to Incola. Make a life with her. Like he promised. But his promises fell apart like castles of sand. How had she ever thought they were made of stone? No. This was not how it was supposed to go. Bile rose in Incola’s throat. The world spun.

“What?” the crow whispered again and rose from her chair.

“She seduced me. She was all over me.”

At those words, Incola’s world went silent. She could see that Amans’ wife was screaming, but she couldn’t hear it. Amans was moving his arms, but he didn’t make a sound. He was fighting against her, not for her. For them.

“Oh…”

She wasn’t all that he dreamed of. She tried to speak, tried to counter, but vomited bits of beef and beans on the polished floor. Then walked back out into the rain.