My lips feel like they are being violated before I have the chance to make the connection it's Blake. A dark figure moves away from me as I jerk, ready to imply some sneaky ninja moves if required. But the dull light seeping through the blinds highlight Blake's irresistible face, which comforts my raging heartbeat. Thank goodness! I don't actually have any sneaky ninja moves to implement... even if I did need them.

"I'm heading to work," he says.

"Have a good day." I open my arms, directing him to come back and give me a hug. With my arms bound around his body, I tug him onto the bed. I gently run my fingers through his soft brown hair as I kiss his forehead. Some days, it feels like we're two passing ships in the night, and that morning and dinner is the only chance we can connect at the same point.

I'd always anticipated growing up would be tough, in a sense that it wouldn't always be the same, but I never imagined it would be quite like this. From the time I'd know Blake as just a boy in a house with a child, I'd never seen past that glimpse he'd allowed me to. But now as I peek past the curtains, I've learnt there's more to growing up than I'd first assumed. It's now that I deem myself utterly silly to believe growing up would be easy, convenient, or even desirable. Growing up feels like I'm giving away myself. Did he feel this way too?

"Isn't that what I do every day?" he teases, a glowing humour swirling through his green eyes. Blake's hands are riddle with callus from the hard physical punishment he endorses daily. I wish things didn't boil down this way, being forced into hard manual labour to earn quick money to support the growing needs of London. But as it goes, it is what it is, regardless of what you want it to be.

"Almost more fun than me," I joke back, my mind groaning at the state of downstairs.

Dinner dishes, toys, dusting, mopping and just about everything else. I should probably do the washing like the responsible adult I am, not let it accumulate on the floor until I'm desperate for it. I do recall Blake's clothing not working out for me last time. But. I'm tired and the thought of leaving this bed makes me want to cry.

"Get some sleep." He quickly presses his lips against mine before standing up and heading downstairs. As I curl up in bed, I listen to the sound of his boots hitting the ground, then the front door eventually opening and closing.

Just as I find myself drifting off, the sound of my phone sends me spiraling awake.

"Who calls this early in the morning?" I reach out and grab the phone, only to see an incoming call from Tori. Reluctantly, I accept the call and press the device against my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi Ava, just checking on London this morning. Can I see her?"

"Ugh, yeah, sure." Pushing the blanket away from my body, I climb out of the bed and call Tori back with FaceTime. I hover the phone above a sleeping London. I hear Tori mutter a few things, but it's too quiet to hear what she's saying.

Within a few minutes, I hang up to a smiling Tori. Perhaps this Face Timing business is the thing Tori needs the most for making it work. I don't know how many early mornings I can do with being woke up, however.

Crawling back into bed, I rest my head on the pillow and enjoy the feeling of comfort. Snuggling under the blanket, I enjoy the feeling of warmth and rest. I let my body unwind and enjoy the comfort of relaxation.

A scream I'm getting awfully used to, the kind that still sends me shaking from the sudden jolt of noise, rings through the room. Jerking to a sitting position, I notice London is awake and hollering for attention.

My eyes wander to my phone on the side table. Eight in the morning, I guess I could consider that a sleep in considering she's usually an early riser like Blake.

The green icon alerts me of a missed message from my mother. On closer inspection, I notice she's planning to visit Angela and myself this morning. As I lean back into the bed, my mind wanders to the mess that's circling downstairs. I can't have Angela and my mother over in that state, what will they think of me?

"Fine, I'm awake, I'm awake! It's not like I need sleep." I slip out of bed and lazily walk towards London's cot. She seems to settle down and just look at me as I get closer. As I pick her up, I get a strong smell of poo, which has me reaching.

"Okay, something is wrong here." I shake my head with disgust. "It's that your father isn't here to clean the bomb that's gone off in your nappy." Holding her at a distance from my body, I take her into the bathroom and start changing her. I discard the old nappy and put her into a summery outfit.

"What am I going to do with you?" I look around the bathroom, trying to find someone to put her. I can't leave her in the cot, and I can't put her on the ground without a boundary. My eyes catch the bathtub, which makes me grin.

People are either going to assume I'm ridiculous and shouldn't be allowed to parent, or they're going to think I'm a genius. It's either setting up something nice in the bathtub or lugging up one of her bouncers for the shortest amount of time in the world. The thought of trying to yank that large plastic contraption up her sends me shivering.

Grabbing one of her squishy chairs and a toy for her to play with, I place London in the bathtub as I quickly jump into the shower. I run the shampoo through my hair while rubbing soap over my body. Instead of a grizzly baby, she smiles and laughs as I flick water against the shower glass.

Once I'm finished, I get out and dry off and change into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I collect London and take her downstairs. Instead of worrying about the mess, I get to work. With London on the ground and free to explore and do her own thing, I go through and tidy up the dishes from last night along with clutter of mess seeping through the house like weeds to a garden bed.

Just as I get the chance to flop on the couch, I hear a knock at the door. There certainly isn't rest time for the wicked, myself included. Oh, how my past free time mocks me now. I could be curled up in bed at my house if only I... but... I can't draw myself to think like that.

Perhaps, Tori, had some sense running away. I don't completely agree with the notion, of course, the situation could have been handled in an amicable way. But now, I'm beginning to understand that a committed full-time mother role is certainly more than she could handle, as of late, I'm thinking the same.

"That's probably your grandmother's," I say, "eager to see you." Getting up, I trug down the hallway and open the door with minimal effort.

"How are you?" says Mum.

"Good, how about you?" I smile enthusiastically.

We exchange pleasantries as we walk back into the lounge room.

"I can't believe you've just left her on the floor unsupervised," mutters my mother, a frown sprawling across her disapproving face.

"Thomas used to put Jude in a box with a few toys while he worked." Laughs Angela. "Parenting used to be slack in comparison to how it is now."

"Hm." My mother had been the doting kind, the one that breathes over their child every second of the day. Perhaps that's where I get it from. The thought of leaving London alone makes my stomach churn with nerves. I didn't like that idea at all.

Despite all the hours I'm putting in to care for London, she doesn't feel like mine. She feels like someone else's child I'm casually minding. Not my boyfriend's child in the slightest. My brain is scrambled by the concept. Am I supposed to think of her as my own? Would London ever consider me as her mother further down the track? Until then, the thought of a single bump, bruise, or scratch terrifies me.

"How you clean and work, Ava, marvelous!" compliments Angela, awed by the clean space.

"You're doing a great job!" adds in Mum.

Mum takes a seat on the couch while Angela gets on the floor and starts playing with her block collection.

"Drinks?" I offer.

"Coffee?" asks Angela.

"Sure, same for you, Mum?"

"Yes, thank you." Heading into the kitchen, I grab out the kettle and the coffee supplies. I put together three coffees and take them over to Angela and my mother. I place them on the coffee table before taking a seat on the couch and sipping on my own drink.

My stomach clenches uncomfortable, but I ignore the pain. I can't come down with a sickness, I feel like my role here is too important for that to happen. Without me holding up this forte, I don't want to see the mess it'll create.

"Are you okay?" asks Mum.

"Yeah." I casually shrug my shoulders.

"But Ava, you look awfully pale and tired. Maybe you should rest?" The thought of catching up on sleep sounds exotic right now, like a vacation to the Bahamas, but I push that thought from my mind. No, I can't sleep, not right now. When London goes down for her afternoon nap, I can do it then.

"I agree with your mother, kiddo, get some rest."

"No, I'm –"

"Got to bed, Ava, we'll look after London for you." It's hard to determine if it's guilt or actual sickness churning inside my stomach. The thought of leaving Angela with the task of caring for London while I should be, well, it makes me feel like I'm not fulfilling what I need to do like I'm not needed.

"Really –"

"We'll make soup, how about that, Angela?" Smiles Mum.

"Decided." Angela claps her hands, a giant smile on her face. "To bed."

As the sickness sets inside my stomach, I find it hard to concentrate enough to disagree with her a third time. I nod my head and place the coffee on the table.

"Are you –"

"Bed!" With a small smile on my face, I get off the couch and head upstairs. Without thinking anymore, I crawl into bed and cuddle under the blanket. At some pointer, perhaps I'll learn to let others take control of this situation. But right now, the urge to troop on downstairs is just a fading memory in my exhaust riddled body. 

What is something you thought was going to happen and didn't?