Kiss My Name

by Calvin Wade

  I noticed I was speaking quickly. It was down to the nerves.

  Jason followed me through to the lounge. It was giving me a real buzz to see him looking so uncomfortable. He had probably taken a long time to pluck up the courage to enter what he imagined to be a cauldron of hate, but instead he was greeted like an old friend. I suspect he thought I had been pumped full of Prozac. As Jason entered the lounge, Dad was sitting with his backside perched on the edge of the settee, a little nervously, whilst Will was spread-eagled across the carpet, playing with his favourite Lego toys. As a toddler, Will was a very shy little boy and as soon as he saw the unfamiliar figure, of Jason looming over him, he stopped what he was doing, stood up and made a run for the back of my legs, clasping his arms around them and trying desperately to change to a blue colour, like a chameleon, so he could be camouflaged by my jeans. Jason bent down on his knees and shuffled towards Will, who just clasped me tighter.

  “Hello Will, “ Jason said attempting to befriend his son, “you’ve grown so tall, haven’t you and you’re a good looking little fella, like your Dad! What have you been up to today, then?”

  Will didn’t say a word. My Dad said he just looked up and scowled. He had no idea who this strange man was. I could have made the situation easier for Jason by speaking to Will in comforting tones to ease his uncertainty, but opted instead to make life harder.

  “William McLaren,” I shouted at him, “this man is your father, stop hiding behind my legs this minute and go and give him a hug!”

  The ‘shouting’ tactic was never going to work, I knew from experience it just made him cry and using the word ‘father’ to coax him into a change of attitude was also hopeless, Will had no idea what a ‘father’ was. He would probably have known what a ‘Daddy’ was, but Daddy’s were people who lifted pushchairs down stairs, gave hugs to dry tears and read bedtime stories. Jason McLaren was a sperm donor not a Daddy.

  Jason didn’t say anything. He just looked on helplessly as Will began to cry.

  “He’ll calm down in a minute,” Dad suggested, trying to put Jason’s mind at rest.

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ I thought.

  “Let me take him out for a moment,” I said to Jason, pretending to help his cause, “maybe if I settle him down a little, he’ll be OK.”

  I picked Will up and with him tucked under my arm, I took him up the stairs and to his room. Once we were there, I didn’t say a word for a couple of minutes to allow Will to calm down. I should have kickstarted my dastardly plot even before Jason had arrived, but my imagination had only been spurned into action, by Will’s initial response to Jason.

  “Are you alright now, little man?”

  “I fink so,”

  “Why were you crying, honey bun?”

  “I didn’t like that man,” Will said between snivels.

  “Why didn’t you like him?”

  “He was going to take my Lego away.”

  As an only child, Will had not learnt to share too well. This was a problem I had noticed when we had been at ‘Toddler Group’. He obviously saw the movement of Jason towards him on his hands and knees as putting his Lego in jeopardy.

  “I see. Do you know why Jason is here today, Will?”

  Will didn’t reply. He just looked at me with puzzled eyes.

  “He wants to take over from Simon,” I explained.

  I don’t really think Will knew what I meant, he just picked up on the word ‘Simon’.

  “Simon’s my best fwiend.”

  “I know love, but Jason wants to be your new best friend now. He wants you not to see Simon again and Jason will come here every day instead. You’ll have baked beans for lunch every day and sprouts for tea, as they are Jason’s favourites.”

  “I hate beans and spwouts!” Will said pulling a distressed face.

  “Well,” I said scooping him back up, “we need to go and see him now. Poor Jason will be wondering where we have gone. He may even have gone into the kitchen whilst he’s been waiting, to make us all his special baked beans!”

  “Yakky beans!”

  “Or maybe he’s been playing with your Lego. If he likes it, shall we let Jason take your Lego home with him?”

  “No, it’s my Lego!”

  “I know love, but if Jason likes it, maybe we should let him have it and maybe he could have Wabbit too.”

  My Dad had bought Will a large Bugs Bunny toy. Will took it to bed with him every night, but as he couldn’t remember the name ‘Bugs Bunny’, he just called it ‘Wabbit’. Dad went through a spell of calling Will ‘Elmer’.

  “He can’t have ‘Wabbit’!”

  I carried Will back down the stairs. I had deliberately taken him out to make his bad mood worse. The last thing I wanted was Jason winning him around. After a prolonged absence from fatherhood, that would not have seemed like justice. We returned to the lounge with Will no longer crying but with his dislike for the strange visitor now strengthened.

  As soon as we entered the room, Jason stood up and came towards Will and me with his arms outstretched.

  “Are you alright now, Buddy?” Jason asked in a friendly voice.

  I went to pass Will into Jason’s arms obligingly, but Will did not fancy the idea of being passed to this Baked Bean and sprout loving, Lego and ‘Wabbit’ thief. Will kicked, screamed and gauged Jason like a Kung Fu loving, rugby playing, boy band fan.

  “What’s the matter with him?” asked an increasingly bemused Jason.

  “I don’t like you!” said Will answering the question for me, “I want Simon not you, you’re not my best fwiend. It’s my Lego! MINE!”

  Will angrily banged his fists against Jason’s back.

  “What’s he on about Lego for?” Jason asked, putting Will on the floor. Will proceeded to kick Jason’s shins and punch his thighs.

  “Oh, take no notice of him,” I said, as Jason retained a hand on Will’s head to keep him slightly further than striking distance away.

  “He thinks everyone wants to take his Lego,” my Dad explained.

  “My Lego!” Will repeated in case anyone should be under any illusions that the Lego did not belong to him.

  A further uncomfortable ten minutes ensued where Jason and Will shared a room but any approaches Jason made to make peace with Will were met with a firm rebuttal. An exasperated Jason eventually called a temporary halt to the attempted peace process.

  “Can I have a word with you, Nicky, in the Hall?” Jason requested.

  “Can we not speak here?”

  “I’d rather we didn’t. Arthur, are you OK keeping an eye on Will?

  My Dad looked at his watch. Babysitting toddlers had never been his occupation of choice.

  “Not for long. I’m off down to my allotment in a bit.”

  “We’ll literally be two minutes,” Jason re-assured him.

  Jason and I headed through to the hallway.

  “What is it, Jason?”

  “I’m not happy about the amount of time Will is spending with Simon Strong.”

  I gave him my best ‘you’re a lunatic’ look.

  “How do you know how much time he’s spending with Simon Strong?”

  “Will has spent most of his time saying he’s his best friend!”

  “Jason, Will is two and a half years old, if you spent more time with him, he’d tell you that there are elephants in Euxton and chimpanzees in Chorley, it doesn’t mean that there are.”

  “And your Dad said.”

  “Did he now?”

  Typical Dad. Blabber mouth.

  “Look Nicky, I’m just not comfortable with Simon Strong being around Will.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m just not, alright. I hate that bloke.”

  “Why?”

  “He foams at the mouth when you’re around. He always has, it gives me the creeps.”

  “Why is that a reason to hate him, Jason? You probably foamed at the mouth when that tarty lecturer was at Runshaw. Did people hate you for that?�
�

  “It’s different.”

  “How?”

  “You’re the mother of my child?”

  “So what?”

  “So I don’t want him near you or my son.”

  “Ah! So this is why you’ve come, is it? You spoke to my Dad and he was probably moaning on about Simon and you decided to come around and lay down the law.”

  “I came to see my son.”

  “Really? You’ve only been here for quarter of an hour and already other matters are taking priority over your son.”

  “This is to do with my son.”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s to do with you not wanting anyone else playing in your old playground, although you’re happy to go off and ride as many bikes as you can find.”

  “Spend some time with him, Jason.”

  “What’s the point? The kid doesn’t even like me, Nicky.”

  “His name’s Will, Jason and he doesn’t know you! How can you expect him to like you? He doesn’t even know you!”

  Jason rubbed his eyes as if he was tired or had hayfever.

  “Alright, I’ll keep coming here for him then. We’ll start doing things together, him and me. Well get to know each other.”

  Half of me didn’t want this at all but I knew for Will’s sake, despite having tried to sabotage this initial meeting, that I should not be depriving him of the opportunity to bond with his father.

  “That’s good, Jason. Every time you are back from Uni you should see him.”

  “I will do. As long as you promise me one thing.”

  “What?”

  I had a feeling I knew what was coming and my feelings are normally spot on.

  “He has no contact with Simon Strong. You see him if you want, go to the cinema or shopping or whatever, but keep him away from my son.”

  I wouldn’t say I was a woman with a temper. Ask any of my friends and they will tell you that I am calmness personified. Sometimes admittedly, because of the way I’ve been designed, there are times in the month that I can be a little cranky, but not very often. I rarely completely lose my temper, very rarely, but this was one of those rare moments.

  “Hang on a minute, pretty boy, who the hell do you think you are?”

  “I’m the father of that boy in there, I have rights.”

  “Yes, you have rights, but not to who he sees or doesn’t see when you’re not with him, you big pompous clot! Can I remind you that you have never been deprived of access to your son, you fool. You have just chosen not to see him. Now, if you want to go through the courts, Jason, you probably have the rights to see Will every other weekend or something like that, but what you don’t have, is the right to dictate to me who I see when I’m looking after our son.”

  “Alright, Nicky, calm down!”

  There’s nothing more annoying than the person who caused you to lose your temper in the first place telling you to calm down!

  “Don’t tell me to calm down!”

  “You son’s next door, think of him.”

  “Yeh right, like you always do!”

  “Why are you so defensive about Simon Strong anyway? Is he dipping his wick in you now?”

  “Grow up, Jason!”

  “No, come on, level with me. What’s so good about Simon Strong?”

  “I’ll tell you, shall I? Whilst you have done nothing for your own biological son, Simon has treated him like his own. Will loves Simon, he makes him laugh, he plays with him, he gives him hugs. Simon Strong is a man with a big heart and he doesn’t have a selfish bone in his body. He is the polar opposite to you.”

  “I know he is. He’s an ugly bastard!”

  “Bloody hell! Listen to yourself. So what if he’s not good looking? He’s a gentleman.”

  “A gentleman! He’s a window cleaner!”

  “So? He doesn’t spend his life looking for the next opportunity to notch another one up on his bedpost. He doesn’t cheat and lie or abandon his own child. I tell you what, I wish he was Will’s Dad, I really do.”

  “See! This is exactly why I don’t want him anywhere near my son, you fancy him! Listen to the way you talk about him as if he was some fancy knight in shining armour. He isn’t, Nicky! Simon Strong is a fat, ugly, dreary bloke. I pity you, Nicky.”

  “Get out!”

  “What?”

  “Get out my house! You can fight me through the courts if you really want to, but until they tell me that you must have access to Will, I don’t want you anywhere near him, so go on, do one.”

  I started pushing Jason towards the door. He made no attempt to stay, no attempt to say he wanted to say goodbye to his son or give him a kiss. He did want to make one further parting shot though.

  “You must be desperate Nicky, having to hang around with the likes of Simon Strong. I remember at school, you were the girl everyone wanted and look at you now. You’ve lost all respect for yourself.”

  I felt my calmness return. I wasn’t arguing with anger with any more, I was arguing with logic.

  “Do you know what, Jason, you’re completely wrong. I’ve done a lot of growing up since I had Will, I’ve had to, I’m still only nineteen years old and I have a two year old. One of the things I’ve learnt is not to judge a man by his handsome face. I mean you’re an attractive man and some girls will part their legs on that fact alone, God knows I did, but I’m beginning to learn that honesty and integrity don’t tend to come in the same package as looks. Looks tend to be parcelled up with a large ego and a selfish streak.”

  “You’re full of crap, Nicky.”

  “I’m actually not. Thanks for coming around, Jason. Surprisingly, I’m glad you came.”

  “Don’t lie, Nicky! I know you’re not!”

  “I’m not lying. Simon Strong wanted a relationship with me and I wasn’t interested but thanks to you, I’ve just realised I’d be a fool to lose him. Thanks for that, Jason, for once you’ve just done Will and me a really big favour. I shall look forward to seeing you in court!”

  NICKY – July 1995

  I rarely went to Simon’s house, as Simon had generally tended to call around at mine, so knocking on his front door inevitably brought back memories of the tragic day that Colin died and I had rushed around to see Simon. Simon and I had always had a bond. I had just never considered it to be a romantic one. Knocking on his door, as a nineteen year old, I still wasn’t sure. Simon was no Mr.D’Arcy but I knew I thought a lot of him and I couldn’t think of anything worse than not having him in my life. Perhaps if you want a rollercoaster ride, you sometimes get thrown off if you don’t wear a seatbelt whilst if you are prepared to stick to the carousel, you know you’re likely to get a pleasant trip around. That was all I wanted from life at that stage, a pleasant trip around.

  “Hiya love,” Simon’s Dad said as he answered the door, “come in.”

  “Thanks!”

  Simon looked like his Dad much more than his Mum. His Dad was thick set with a round face, like Simon had, but he obviously looked older with a bald spot on his crown and black hair that was speckled grey in his sideburns and above his ears. His face was heavily lined for a man in his late forties. I put it down to a life spent outdoors and the pain of losing a son.

  “Not got the little boy with you today, then?” he enquired pleasantly.

  Mr.Strong wasn’t a man I saw regularly but when I did see him, he always made every effort to be friendly.

  “No, I left him with my Dad for an hour, as I wanted to have a word with your Simon, is he in?”

  “He’s always in on a Saturday morning, Nicky. I’m not the fittest of men for my age, so Simon does a lot of the grafting on our round, you know like carrying the ladders and doing the upstairs windows, so he always just likes to chill out at home on a Saturday morning. He’s in the kitchen, go through.”

  I walked through into a long, narrow kitchen. As you entered there was the oven and the hob on one side and the fridge and freezer on the other, surrounded by lots of cupboards and drawers, but at the fa
r end, it opened up into a dining area, where Simon was sat on a small, white circular table on one of four chairs, coffee in hand and reading a newspaper. He looked up from his paper, but didn’t say a word at first, he just half-smiled.

  “I’ll leave you two to it then,” Mr.Strong said as he discreetly made his exit, “lovely to see you again, Nicky.”

  “You too, Mr.Strong. See you later!”

  “Sit down,” Simon gestured pulling out a chair for me to sit at. “Do you want a tea or a coffee?”

  “No, I’m fine thanks, Simon,” I said as I took a seat next to him, “I’m not staying long, you know what my Dad gets like if he’s left with Will for long!”

  “Grumpy and stressed,” Simon replied.

  “Exactly. Will misses you, Simon.”

  “I miss him too, Nicky.”

  “He would have got himself into a right state if he knew I was coming to see you but not bringing him with me! I don’t think he would have allowed me to come without him. He’d have locked his arms around my leg and I would have had to drag him along the floor to get here.”

  “Where did you tell him you were going?”

  “The Butcher’s.”

  “So are you going to take him some sausages home?”

  “That might be an idea!”

  We smiled at each other but they were sad smiles. The type of smiles people do at funerals when they are trying to be upbeat but there is an underlying heartbreak.

  “Are you sure I can’t get you a drink? I’ll make it milky so you can drink it quick.”

  “I’m positive, thanks. Simon, why have you kept away from us?”

  Simon fidgeted in his chair.

  “Do we have to talk about this?”

  “Yes, we need to. Whatever happens, I’m not going to allow you to avoid me for the rest of your life, Simon.”

  “I wouldn’t want to.”

  “Good. So why have you been avoiding us recently? It’s not been fair on Will. If I’d had a pound for every time he’s told me you’re his ‘best fwiend’, I’d be sunning it up in St.Lucia now.”

  “Look Nicky, you were right, I shouldn’t have mentioned about wanting a relationship with you. We’re best friends, we’ve been good friends for a long time and I’m sorry I jeopardised that friendship by mentioning how I felt. I’ve stayed away because I’m embarrassed about the whole thing. I feel a bit of an idiot. Say sorry to Will for me and let him know I’ve really missed him and that I’ll call around soon. As long as that’s alright with you?”