My Ex Faked an Abortion: By the Unreliable Narrator.

Traveling with shadows

Before I got married and settled down, before I moved to Turkey, and before I moved to La Reunion, I lived in Ireland as an unemployed Djembe player who only knew two beats.

My fellow musicians and gig workers would often joke, “Here comes One Beat Pete!” while the more generous of them would gently call me “Two Beat Pete."

Despite the friendly hazing, I was well-liked by the musicians around town, even though I wasn’t much of a musician. Hel, I was only doing it for the 50 euros and a free drink at the end of the night. Getting laid was on the agenda, too, but that rarely happened.

I used to play with a young guitarist called Eric just to get by. Before Eric, I had played with some very talented people, but they had all moved on to better people. At that time, my old friend, Sean, had moved to La Reunion. Sean had been the perfect foil for my limited abilities, and when he left, I found Eric through a mutual friend. Eric was fun to play with, and he was great at covers. I didn’t need a third beat playing with Eric; anything bouncy would do. Although Eric wasn’t as respected as the boys I had played with before, our gigs were always fun.

Eric And Peter’s Setlist

Rolling In The Deep

Drops of Jupiter

Fans

Stacey’s Mom

Song Two

Little By Little

Can’t Stop

Barbie Girl

One

Enter Sandman

Maggot Brain

Mollys Chamber

Sex on Fire

Snow, Hey ho

Go Your Own Way

99 Problems

Lose Yourself

Ya, we had fun. Every night, drinking, smoking, and playing music. The nights tended to blur back then, and before I knew it, I was drinking seven Guinness a day and five white Russians. I had turned into a fat and sloppy young man in the prime of my life, yet somehow women were still attracted to me.

Maybe I wasn’t as bad as I thought — The Unreliable Narrator

Amidst the booze and music, I managed to meet a pretty French girl named Anna. She was tiny, cute, and bohemian. Anna was on Erasmus in my town and had seen me play. There was something in the way I banged the drums out of time that resonated with her and every night after my gigs, we would go back to her tiny, cold, and damp student apartment to fool around.

“We just fooled around.” — The Unreliable Narrator

About a week after I began dating Anna, Sean came back to Ireland for Christmas. We met for a drink, and he told me about a job opportunity on Reunion Island. Well, I looked around at the cold, harsh, and wet Irish winter and figured I didn’t have much to lose. My father had moved to America to try and launch another business. I was playing music, but most of my money was coming from cleaning dishes. Everything I made, I either drank or gave to my mom. I had no idea where or what the Reunion was, but Sean looked happy and healthy.

How I ended up in Reunion is a tale for a different day but let’s just say, I can’t remember how or who booked the ticket. — The Unreliable Narrator

I did not run away from something, I ran away from nothing. — The Poetic memory

Reunion Island suited me, and soon I was swimming and fishing like an island pro. I rarely thought about Anna, as she didn’t seem to care that I was going. The night before I left, I asked her out for dinner so we could say our goodbyes over some wine and food, but she insisted on me spending the night with her. She quickly got angry when I said I’d be spending my last night in Ireland with my family. When I said that, she went quiet and cold. I had only known her a week, so I said, ‘Fair enough,” and left.

I can’t remember much of that night, but that’s basically how it went down. — The Unreliable Narrator

About three months into my island journey, I started to become a changed man. I lost weight, stopped drinking, and became an avid mountaineer. I shared a small apartment with Sean and an American named Nate, and every weekend was full of island adventures. In our apartment, I had a small room on the top floor where Nate and Sean had built a makeshift table for me so I could work on my laptop. My Monday-Friday routine was mundane as I searched for more work, but at the end of every island day, I slept like a baby.

One morning, when I decided to check my Facebook, I saw a message from Anna. My heart sank when I saw it.

Anna: Peter, I am pregnant 

I don’t want to say that I panicked, but I was most definitely confused and shocked. I mean, yes, we fooled around, but I don’t think what we did counts as babymaking. I decided to respond calmly.

Peter: Ana, what the fuck are you talking about?
Anna: I'm pregnant, you pig! You did this to me!

Shit, she was online. I re-read her message again as my stomach began to churn. My mind automatically went to my father and what he would think. My mind raced.

‘Did we have sex? Did I not use a condom? I haven't bought a condom in 3 years! I think I’d remember if we did that! Would I, though?’ — The Unreliable Narrator

Peter: Anna, I don't think that's possible.
Anna: I have to leave university to take care of this.
Peter: Jesus, Anna, you've waited this long? Why didn't you tell me?
Ana....

There I was on an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean with a French girl back in Ireland, accusing me of impregnating her.

I began to doubt my memory.

‘Did we or did we not have sex?’

More doubt

‘Am I a scumbag?’

‘Should I fly home and help her?’

'Is she telling the truth?

‘Is it possible to get an abortion after three months?’

More doubt entered my mind

‘I need to call her!’

Peter: Anna, we need to talk. Let's skype. I want to help.
I don't know how this happened, but I want to help.

About two weeks later, Ana finally replied. During those two weeks, I lost about 5 kg as I spent most of my time on the toilet as the nerves and terror thoughts of something with my blood being ‘taken care of’ took its toll. I had no money to fly home, and I was too ashamed to tell anyone. My only window into the truth was Anna, the unreliable narrator.

Anna: Help? It's too late. They opened up my belly and took out your baby!
Peter: What the fuck? Are you okay? Why won't you call? I have no money to fly back!
Anna: I have a huge scar on my stomach, and it's all because of you!
They tore your baby from my stomach and threw it away!

The thought of my baby being pulled out of a stomach and thrown into some bag was enough to make me throw up. I tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. I doubted every word she uttered, but then again, why would someone say these kinds of things? I had read on the internet that it was possible to get pregnant without ‘going all in,’ but by God, man, this consequence seemed a little intense.

I spent the next few months not knowing what to do. I was ashamed, not eating, and too afraid to tell anyone.

One morning, as I sipped on my coffee, I came across a picture of a mutual friend of Anna and me and decided to call him. He had been on Erasmus with Anna, and we had met a few times. I was apprehensive, as I was pretty sure he thought I was a scumbag.

“Rodrigo, how are you, mate?”

“Hey, Pete! I’m good, man. How is Africa?”

Oh okay, no hate.

“It’s a trip, dude. I love it. Here, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Are you still friends with Anna?”

“Of course, I saw her last weekend.”

"Is she ok?”

“What do you mean?”

“Wasn’t she pregnant?”

“Anna? Pregnant? No!”

Bitch

"But I heard she had to leave Uni and go get it sorted out.”

“Peter, I don’t know where you’re getting this, but Anna is not pregnant. What do you care? You’re the one that ditched her!”

“I didn’t ditch anyone! She told me she was pregnant and got an abortion after three months."

“Hah! She’s just fucking with you.”

“Fucking with me? Rodrigo, she told me the doctors opened her stomach and pulled out my baby!”

“Well, that’s obviously not true!”

“Not to me!”

“Peter, what has this got to do with me? She was probably angry that you left so abruptly.”

“Forget it, man. So she’s not pregant?”

“No, she wasn’t pregnant; relax.”

“Rodrigo, man, listen I know she’s your friend, but that’s a bit much!”

"Oh, come on, you just left her! You barely said goodbye! She cried for weeks after you left!”

“Dude, am, we were like together for just a week.”

“A week? Peter, it was at least three months, according to Ana and I remember the two of you hooking up in October, so it could even be four months.”

“We have different definitions of what constitutes a relationship.”

“You’re a pig. I’m glad she fucked with you!”

I hung up relieved and in a cold sweat. Happiness outweighed my anger, and I immediately ran down to the beach to cleanse myself in the vast Indian Ocean. I’m still impressed with how quickly I went from worrying for her to being relieved for myself.

‘She was just fucking with me. Well, well done. Consider me fucked.’ — The Nervous Man

Time on the island went on and was full of adventures, sex, drugs, riots on the streets peppered with shark attacks, and the memory of a death, but Anna remained embedded in my thoughts.

Had I hurt her that badly? She had been so sweet and soft in my memory, yet her words cut me like a buzz saw through the internet's ether. To this day, I still have stomach problems, and my nerves act up. I’m not pro or anti-anything, but the image she concocted left me hallowed, scared, and ashamed. Maybe that was her plan—to teach me consequences and that for every action there is a reaction. Maybe she was just a psycho who got lucky with a gullible boy.

I still fear she was telling the truth and suffered because of a stupid boy stuck on an island. I fear she had the baby and my child is somewhere in France. Ridiculous, I know but guilt will turn your mind to mush if you allow it.

I fear everything now.

I still fear the thoughts.

I still fear the unreliable narrator and his hazy mind

• It took me two years to save up the money to get off that island.
• Anna was lying
• There was no job for me in Reunion
• When Sean and Nate left, I became homeless
• I miss those days

I have been Peter Murphy, and you have just read my stuff.