Some Kind of Wonderful

by Giovanna Fletcher

  He looks like me but with blond hair. Everyone’s said it. I love that we’re so similar and I’m sure it’s deepened our bond.

  This is the second time I’ve visited. We all came over first thing yesterday morning, as soon as Stu phoned to say baby Duncan had arrived. It was crowded and everyone kept hogging the baby, so I thought it would be best to come back today on my own so I can have uninterrupted cuddles while checking in on my little sister. For the most part she’s seemed fairly upbeat so far, no baby blues here. Although she did cry when Stu said he was going to go down to the shops to get them some more milk and biscuits. You’d have thought he’d declared he was having an affair and leaving for Thailand the way she dissolved into tears. He didn’t even flinch. Maybe he’s found an even stronger sense of admiration for his strong wife now that she’s pushed his son out of her nether regions.

  ‘It was fine,’ Michelle shrugs, wiping her hands on a tea towel before picking up her mug of tea for a slurp. ‘I mean, it wasn’t all sunshine, rainbows and unicorns – but it was, hands-down, the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.’

  ‘You’re joking?’ I ask, having never heard childbirth described in this way. It’s usually portrayed as the most horrific event of all time. I’ve always thought it’s a wonder why anyone does it more than once.

  ‘Would you do it again?’ I ask.

  ‘Right now I’d say yes, but let’s wait and see what the damage is to downstairs first. I did have a gander with a mirror earlier, not the easiest of tasks but I saw it. Very swollen,’ she says, pulling a worried look in my direction. ‘Stu might not want to come near me.’

  ‘Michelle!’ I choke, covering the baby’s tiny ears.

  ‘I’m only joking,’ she says, leaning across while putting on a baby voice as she begins talking to Duncan. ‘Mummy and Daddy will be back to bonking like rabbits soon enough.’

  ‘Nice!’

  ‘He’ll have to put up with it if he wants a sibling or two,’ she chuckles to herself, pulling a face at me before looking down at the newborn in my arms. The sight seeming to catch her off guard, she sighs and melts into the sofa, while her eyes soften as they fill with tears. ‘He’s so perfect.’

  ‘He is. What do you wish for him?’ I ask, enjoying seeing her in this gentler role. In all honesty, she’s never been the most maternal person out there so I had worried about her natural instincts. This is probably what she was referring to on the phone during labour. But right now, sitting and watching her as she visibly pours love into her son from the other side of the sofa, it’s clearly visible how much motherhood suits her. ‘If you could grant him a wish, what would you ask for?’ I repeat to the blank expression that’s glaring at me.

  ‘I feel like we’re in a Disney film,’ she says, screwing up her face in disgust. ‘Are spinning wheels about to burn? Is he going to go live in a forest with three dippy fairies while harbouring a deep affection for wildlife? Should we tell him to be wary of poisonous apples?’

  ‘Very funny,’ I say, gently gliding my fingertip along his fine hair. ‘And they were gifts in that film. Not wishes.’

  ‘My Disney knowledge is not what it once was,’ she mutters, taking another gulp of her drink.

  I give Duncan a kiss on his tiny little forehead and start rocking, beginning to sing, ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little st—’

  ‘Nope,’ interrupts Michelle, firmly. ‘No!’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Can’t you just be quiet for a bit?’ she asks, exasperatedly. ‘You keep bursting into song like you’re Julie flipping Andrews.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I mutter, although I’m happy to acknowledge she’s right. I have my first rehearsals with the choir tomorrow and am clearly excited as I keep musically erupting without even thinking.

  A silence falls over us. There’s no TV on for background noise, no music blaring out of the radio, just the sound of a clock ticking on the mantelpiece and Duncan breathing in and out contently. He’s so beautiful. You often hear about the bond between a mother, father and their baby. I knew Michelle and Stuart would be in awe and love straight away, but I hadn’t realized I’d get smacked with such all-consuming love too.

  ‘Contentment,’ Michelle says, taking me by surprise. It takes me a second to understand what she’s talking about. The wish. ‘That’s all that matters,’ she continues, moving along the sofa so that she’s sitting next to me while looking directly at Duncan, as though she still can’t believe that he’s finally here. ‘Money is pointless if all you ever want is more of it. A good job means nothing if you hate it. Life will always be a disappointment, no matter what you achieve, if you’re longing for something else.’

  ‘But dreams push you further,’ I say, thinking of all the things I longed to do and be when I was younger and how they spurred me on to try things. The end of my relationship has given me another push, and I’ve loved rediscovering a thirst for new experiences.

  ‘I’m not talking about not aspiring to achieve or settling for something that’s less than you deserve,’ Michelle explains. ‘I don’t want a lazy bum for a son. I just want him to look at his life every now and then and reflect on how lucky he is. He might never be the richest, the smartest or the most good-looking, but nothing comes from comparing. I want him to do things because he wants to do them, not because he feels like it’s the right step to getting somewhere else. I hope he realizes that his life already contains some kind of wonderful and embraces it.’

  ‘I’m sure he will,’ I say, just as Duncan starts shifting in my arms, his mouth opening as he starts seeking out his next feed. ‘You won’t find anything in there, Mister!’ I say, delicately passing him back to his mum. Having not held many babies in my life I’m clumsy and unsure, but Michelle seems confident and fearless.

  ‘Come here, little man,’ she says, unclipping her maternity bra and taking him to her boob. It’s a fascinatingly intimate moment to witness, even if he is a noisy little chomper.

  ‘Does it hurt?’ I ask.

  ‘Stings,’ she admits, sucking in some air through her gritted teeth before visibly relaxing. ‘Only at the start, luckily.’

  ‘I guess that’s something,’ I say dubiously.

  ‘One of my NCT friends has had a nightmare with it. Blisters, the lot.’

  ‘Ouch,’ I wince, as though my own nipples can feel her pain.

  ‘Exactly. For me, this is simply not the sort of nipple action I’m used to, that’s all. I’m all for a playful nibble or tug here and there, but this is something quite different,’ she titters to herself before looking up at me, her eyes widening as though she’s just remembered something important and can’t wait to get it out. ‘Mum says you’ve met someone!’

  ‘What?’ I say, laughing; this is not what I was expecting her to say. I thought she’d be talking more about her bruised and swollen fanny. ‘How the bloody hell does she know?’

  ‘Mum has ways,’ she says, raising an eyebrow at me.

  ‘Connie’s mum!’ I guess, knowing that Sue would’ve got the lowdown from her daughter straight away. I should be more surprised that it’s taken this long to circulate and find its way back to me.

  ‘You went home with him, apparently,’ says Michelle, unable to keep a smile from spreading across her face. I can tell she’s desperate for details.

  ‘I did,’ I smile in return, thinking back to last week and how I didn’t want the night to be over once the club had kicked us all out. I was on such a high I wanted it to keep going, so I jumped at the offer of going back to Alastair’s even though Connie and Matt were heading home.

  ‘And? Did you?’ she asks, looking at me expectantly.

  ‘A lady should never kiss and tell,’ I state primly.

  ‘I’m not talking to a lady, I’m talking to you,’ she prods. ‘And your reluctance to spill all speaks volumes, you big whore bag.’

  ‘Actually. No. I didn’t,’ I say honestly. It’s mean to stamp all over her hopes of some gossip and saucy behaviour when she clearly
desires it so much, but I don’t want an exaggerated version of the truth making its way back to Natalia via Stu and their mutual mates. That would be awful. I haven’t even started my new job yet and don’t want to annoy my new boss.

  ‘Bit of oral?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hand job?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Dry humping?’ she pleads.

  ‘No!’ I shriek, laughing at the fact I’ve had to face the same line of questioning from Connie. She wouldn’t accept the fact that nothing happened either. In fact I’m pretty sure she still doesn’t believe me and instead thinks I’m just being coy about the whole thing.

  ‘At least tell me there was a bit of fondling or nipple twitching,’ Michelle begs, shaking her head at me with despair. ‘He’s a fucking Adonis. Please tell me you didn’t miss your opportunity to let down that man bun and run your fingers through that gorgeous hair. Just the thought of his stubble nuzzling into my neck is enough for me to orgasm,’ she smirks naughtily. Completely unfazed by the fact she has her newborn in hearing range and suckling on her breast.

  ‘How do you know what he looks like?’ I ask.

  She gawps at me for a second or two. Her jaw drops, her eyes big and round as she realizes what she’s said.

  ‘Might’ve had a little Facebook stalk,’ she shrugs, trying to bat the whole thing off in a totally unashamed way, although I see the tops of her cheeks reddening slightly.

  I don’t care. In fact, for the first time since deleting it, I wish I still had a Facebook account, purely because I too would love to perve over pictures of my non-shagging partner all day long. I debate asking Michelle to have a cheeky stalk now via her own account, but decide against it. Mostly because I know exactly how smug she’d be about it. ‘This has to be a serious perk to Ian dumping you,’ Michelle adds.

  ‘Yes, I’m very grateful,’ I say sarcastically.

  ‘You were seriously punching above.’

  ‘Thanks, sis.’

  ‘So what did happen? I know you went to his place, so what went wrong? More importantly, what did you do wrong?’

  ‘Flipping cheek!’ I say, rolling my eyes at her before explaining. ‘Yes, I went to his place, but we were with Natalia as well.’

  ‘Weird,’ she frowns.

  ‘They’re best mates.’

  ‘She was cock-blocking,’ she says bluntly, as though it’s totally obvious.

  ‘She’d just offered me a job.’

  ‘She was still cock-blocking,’ she repeats adamantly.

  ‘I don’t think so …’ I say, thinking back to what happened when we got back to his trendy converted warehouse flat in East London. There was more alcohol offered around and a pizza was shared. It was a friendly gathering more than anything else. I didn’t feel like Alastair was willing either of us to leave, and nor did Natalia seem pissed off that I was there. We simply weren’t ready for the night to end. ‘I wouldn’t have slept with him that night even if we were alone anyway.’

  Michelle laughs so loudly Duncan scrunches into a little ball. She places her hand on him for reassurance and soon enough he’s going at it again, although she can’t control her giggles.

  ‘What?’ I demand.

  ‘Of course you would have shagged him, that’s just what you’re telling yourself to make you feel better about it not happening. Or to make you think you’re a better human than you actually are,’ she says, tapping my arm and pointing at the biscuit packet beside me, silently instructing me to pass it over. She continues as I do so. ‘I’m sure you’d like to think you’re prim and proper and a real credit to Mum and Dad, but if you were being really honest then you’d have to admit that all you really wanted him to do is bang your brains out.’ And with that she takes a mammoth bite of her Chocolate Hobnob, looking rather pleased with herself as she munches away.

  ‘You’re probably right,’ I sigh, remembering how charged and alive I felt that night. It wasn’t solely down to meeting Alastair, but his attention certainly added to the confidence I felt. Since that night I’ve thought about him a lot while remembering the way he looked at me or kissed me. Each time I might as well have been back on that dance floor reliving it all again. My body has reacted in just the same way each time. Wanting him completely, longing for his touch. He’s intoxicating, but of course he is. He’s a self-confessed player. They’re always the most charming because they’ve had limitless encounters to learn from.

  ‘When are you going to see him again?’ Michelle asks, her face full of hope.

  ‘I don’t know if I will,’ I admit, aware of a sadness creeping over me as I say it.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He has a reputation,’ I say honestly.

  ‘Haven’t we all?’

  ‘I’ve just been dumped after ten years of playing the dutiful non-wife, so no,’ I say with a dramatic sigh.

  I can’t see myself walking around Ikea and arguing over flat-pack furniture instructions with him or anyone else any time soon, but I realize it has been brilliant to move my attention away from Ian for a while.

  Right now I’m not looking to find someone who’s going to fill the void that he left behind in my heart and soul. I don’t want to depend on another person to complete me because I now realize that people change and evolve. They always do. That makes them unreliable and unstable, no matter how much we’d love to think differently.

  Perhaps I’m thinking too much like a woman who’s had her hand severely burned by the flame, because despite these thoughts I know I had an unbelievable night. I loved everything about it. And yes, I loved the way Alastair made me feel sexy, proud and confident, but it simply irks me that it has taken someone else to coax out that side of me. It makes me uneasy.

  I just want to get me back, and that’s a task I need to do for myself and by myself. I don’t need some man swooping in and saving me, because no matter how delightful that might sound it’s not a realistic end to my problems. This isn’t a fairytale and the story isn’t going to end with me riding off into the sunset for my happily ever after. I thought I had that and it disappeared, so I’m not even sure I believe in them any more. Who knows, maybe Prince Phillip treated Sleeping Beauty awfully after he woke her up with a kiss. Maybe he kept using the fact he got ripped to pieces by rose bushes, and (probably) got burned by the fire-throwing dragon against her in arguments. Maybe he turned out not to be the man of her dreams and more like Joffrey in Game of Thrones, with a thirst for cruelty and torture. Maybe Aladdin was just a street rat and a thief. Maybe The Little Mermaid’s Prince Eric smelt of fish all the time. Maybe the ultimate one, Cinderella’s Prince Charming, was actually a sex addict with a wandering eye and that’s why no one had been able to pin him down before. Even my favourite TV show Friends left me thinking Ross and Rachel finally got together after years of make-ups and break-ups – but what about Paris? What if it was all too much, or not enough? What if it didn’t live up to the expectations they’d spent years building up? Then there’s Bella and Edward, Pacey and Joey, Mickey and Minnie and Leonard and Penny – their lives all continued after the last page or when the cameras stopped rolling, and none of us can predict what happened when we turned off the TV or shut the book. All I know for certain is that these tales have given me high expectations of what a man should be and possibly even moulded what I thought I wanted in life.

  And this isn’t me swearing off men and relationships or my desire to get married one day, just me recognizing the fact that now is not the right time to embark on anything serious with Alastair that could muddy the waters even further. I need to think about me and sort whatever is going on in my heart and head before I take on someone else’s ego.

  ‘I’m really not looking for a relationship, and from what I know he isn’t either,’ I explain eventually.

  ‘So shag him instead,’ she says flippantly.

  I’m instantly aware of the flutter of excitement the thought sends through me. It’s not as if he’d say no to the suggestion, and Michel
le’s right, things might’ve progressed that way if Natalia hadn’t hung around. ‘Trust me, I’ve thought about it. I don’t want things to get messy with Natalia.’

  ‘Hmmm … you don’t want to upset things with the new boss who didn’t understand you guys wanted to screw each other senseless?’

  ‘You’re so crude. Plus, you know her!’ I remind her.

  She shrugs in response and buries her head in her changing bag, pulling out more muslins even though Duncan hasn’t moved for the last ten minutes.

  ‘I don’t know what I want right now, but I’m not ready for anyone else’s problems to be added to my own,’ I admit. ‘It’s probably a good thing we didn’t exchange numbers.’

  ‘What?’ she shrieks, her head whipping back around.

  ‘I promised him and Natalia I wouldn’t earlier in the night, and then neither of us asked,’ I say, remembering how we clumsily exchanged a quick peck on the lips before Natalia and I left. ‘It’s for the best, though. I don’t want him getting in my head, not when I’ve finally started making some big plans.’

  ‘Such as?’ she asks doubtfully.

  ‘I handed in my notice yesterday,’ I say, delivering the line with pride. ‘I bit the bullet and took a gamble. Even if the job with Natalia doesn’t happen I needed to make a change and figured it was best to do it while I’m still at Mum’s and not spending as much.’

  ‘And?’ she asks, not giving me the shocked reaction I was looking for. I thought resigning was a big deal. Clearly Michelle doesn’t think so.

  ‘And I was hit with a sense of possibility,’ I share.

  ‘So poetic,’ she gently mocks.

  ‘I think it’s time to be a little selfish for a bit and put myself first.’

  ‘Finally!’ she shouts, raising her hands to the heavens as though her prayers have been answered at last.

  ‘Michelle?’

  ‘What?’ she asks, gazing back to me while looking as perplexed as I feel. ‘Stop being such a sap, Elizabeth. Don’t be the dependable one making sure everyone else is happy all the time. Do you. Go chase your own contentment.’