Be My Baby

by A. L. Michael

  ‘That’s what happens when you don’t have carbs before bed,’ Mollie groaned, rolling over to face her friend, whose hair was sticking up at weird angles, and black eyeliner was smudged around her lids.

  ‘Oh, that’s great, that’ll go down well at the healthy eating workshops,’ Evie snorted, grinning at her friend. ‘So... how are you?’

  ‘Hangover is hovering, but not as bad as I thought. It’ll probably be one of those ones that require a two p.m. nap. How about you?’

  ‘No, hun, I mean... how are you?’ Evie clasped her hand, and Mollie felt herself soften suddenly.

  ‘My mum and Jamie’s mum conspired to keep us apart. His mum paid my mum to make me get an abortion. Esme loves Jamie. She called him Dad today. She’s out with him again. Doing sports. He kissed me last night and it made me feel like a whole person for the first time in a decade. And I’m so angry with myself about how pathetic that is that I could scream.’

  Evie blinked and nodded, squeezing her friend’s hand as she shuffled closer to her in the bed.

  ‘It’s not pathetic. It’s a connection.’

  ‘Like you and Nigel,’ Mollie said snarkily. Nigel had been Evie’s teenage boyfriend, the one she stuck with eventually, ending up back in their dead-end town doing nothing with her life. Until he proposed, and she left.

  ‘Nothing like me and Nigel. You guys were real, you were crazy about each other. We... we were just hanging out together because no one better was around,’ Evie shrugged. ‘Sounds horrible but it’s true. He didn’t make my chest thump or my face hurt from smiling. He was just... an ally in the war against Badgeley. Jamie’s more than your ally. He’s your beginning, and in a sense, he’s your family.’

  ‘But he’s not my ending,’ Mollie said bitterly.

  ‘Only you get to decide that, babe.’ Evie shrugged, ‘You want that, take it. He’s there with his heart all neatly displayed on a sushi platter.’

  ‘He’s a sniper! He was a vegetarian when I knew him! And now he kills people for a living!’

  ‘Pretty sure that’s not entirely how it works,’ Evie snorted, ‘and he’s in therapy, isn’t he? I mean, that’s a good sign. He knows he wants to feel better.’

  ‘And when he feels better, he’ll be okay for active duty and then he’ll be gone again!’

  ‘Maybe he won’t.’

  Mollie let out a frustrated huff and flung herself from the bed, ignoring the thumping at the back of her neck. ‘And maybe reindeer will tap dance on Donald Trump whilst singing a glitzy rendition of Singing in the Rain, but life has to go on!’

  Evie snorted, ‘Just ask him.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ask him about the fucking note, you wimp. Ask him if he sent you that note and what it meant.’

  Mollie sagged, her shoulders dropping and her head rolling back dramatically. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You can.’

  ‘What if he admits it, what if he tried to leave?’

  ‘Then he was a dumbass teenager who’s here now.’

  ‘What if he denies it?’

  ‘Then maybe there’s a good explanation?’

  ‘And what if I’m just one more of those pathetic women, one who believes in the happy ever after so desperately that she never bothers to move on? That he admits he left me, that he was a coward, just as I’m starting to feel something again? What could be more fucking pathetic than that?’ Mollie’s eyes were frantic and wide, demanding an answer from her friend.

  ‘You’re not pathetic,’ Evie shook her head, frowning at her friend. ‘Life is complicated. Let it be complicated.’

  ‘I don’t want complicated. If I wanted complicated, I would have stayed in Badgeley, and dated Divorced Dave, and ended up with Esme being some kind of step sibling to those kids of Kayleigh’s he took on when he married her, where everyone’s related and involved in everyone’s business, until two cousins start dating and no one can tell if it’s first cousins or second cousins and whether that makes it okay or not!’

  Evie burst out laughing as Mollie stood there, manic and desperate in her unicorn pyjama bottoms and black t-shirt. Mollie shook her head and sat back on the bed.

  ‘It was a good kiss, Eves. Like, world class, stars behind the eyes, fingertip-tingling kind of good. Those kisses you dream about as a teenager before you realise it’s all washing machine tongues and stale cigarette smoke.’

  Evie smiled at her friend, watching as she closed her eyes and tugged at her fluffy blonde hair, twisting it around her fingertips.

  ‘Molls, crazy question: why not just go for it? Why not be happy? Be a happy family, even?’

  Mollie’s eyes opened, dark brown irises staring solidly at her with no uncertainty, ‘Because if this goes wrong, Esme gets hurt. And I have dedicated my life to avoiding situations where Esme might get hurt. That’s my only job. The only one that counts.’

  ‘And what if no one gets hurt? What if it’s all some big misunderstanding where everyone’s blameless and everyone’s good?’ Evie smiled, but it faded as she saw her friend’s serious face, her unblinking eyes and incredulous gaze.

  ‘You’re back to those tap dancing reindeer again Evie. Someone has to get hurt, and I’d rather it was me now, than my daughter down the line.’

  ‘You’re being cowardly,’ Evie said gently, reaching for her hand, as Mollie stood up and avoided her.

  ‘I’m being practical. Come on, let’s go make a fry up. I’m not talking about this any more. No more drunken kisses and fake ideas of happy families. We’re already a family, we don’t need any more drama.’

  Chapter Ten

  Time passed in that way time does; painstakingly slow and yet too fast to enjoy it. They had settled into a sort of pattern at the studios. Jamie would come by on Wednesday nights for time with Esme, taking her out to do these sporty things she apparently loved so much, then he’d come and do the healthy cooking workshops, and would stop by on Sunday for games night. It was friendly, grown-up and it was absolutely killing Mollie. She felt like she was two different people; one was desperately mooning over Jamie, waiting for him to kiss her again. The other wanted to rip his face off in a jealous rage whenever he took her daughter to the park or to see a movie. And the worst part was he always invited her. He always wanted to include her. It was Esme who would pipe up and say, ‘Oh, that’s not Mum’s sort of thing.’ She was right, obviously, but it hurt to be left out, to have to share this person that she had raised and grown and cared for. This person who had been the other half of her, part of her for so long. Now Esme had things she didn’t share, things that were just for her and her dad. And that killed her.

  But, there was no more talk of bullying from the school, and life was quiet, the only energy at the studio was Mollie’s baking and the increasing build-up of tension for Chelsea and Kit’s wedding.

  She played her music loudly in the studio, blasting out not only in the main room, but the kitchen and the conservatory. She yelped along to everything, not hearing her own pathetic voice as she sang along to song from the fifties and sixties, swinging her hips and wiggling as she stirred cake batter. There was no healthy limitation on this one – Chelsea’s wedding cake. Three tiers. Three delicious flavours. No thoughts about sugar, fat or additives. Chelsea had simply said, ‘Make something delicious with no thought as to the consequences. But if you mention matcha, chia or goji berries, I will end you.’

  Mollie grinned to herself as Elvis came on, and she swayed more slowly, mouthing the words to Love Me Tender as she stirred the dark, rich batter. Black Forest gateau – Chelsea’s favourite as a teenager. Dark and sweet and devilish. The cherries were soaked in red wine. The next layer would be Kit’s favourite, double fudge sundae with a chocolate swirl running through it. Then, the top, a grown-up cake, a light sponge with raspberry and champagne jam, and fresh cream. The colours would graduate up, becoming lighter, then be dusted with icing sugar, topped with flowers and fruit, and served naked – rustic, simple and delicious.


  Mollie swirled around, mouthing along to the song. She waltzed with the bowl as she stirred, feeling the crispness of the autumn air through the open windows in the conservatory. It was going to rain soon, fresh and heady. It was a night for hot apple and cinnamon with their board games that evening, spiked with rum, served with spiced apple cookies and veggie pesto tartlets. Warming food. Finger food in between games of Jenga and Dixit.

  She felt his kiss on her neck, gone before she could say anything. Jamie took the bowl from her, bright eyes holding hers as he placed it down on the side, then snaked his arms around her waist.

  ‘Dance,’ he nudged her, pulling her towards him so that their chests were touching, so that his hand lay flat on her back, holding her close. They swayed, her looking resolutely past him, refusing to be taken in.

  ‘Where’s Ez?’

  ‘Having a shower. She doesn’t like that physical exercise makes her “icky”,’ he grinned, hands dropping to her hips.

  ‘Good to know she’s still my daughter in one way at least,’ Mollie smiled half-heartedly.

  ‘She’s your daughter in every way, Molls, from the way she tilts her head when she’s thinking about making a joke, to the way she tells me I’m a terribly silly man and I need to try harder.’

  Mollie fought a smile, and failed, keeping only the centre of her lips still. They swayed in silence for a moment, Mollie focusing on everything around them, how long the oven needed to be preheated, if she had greased the cake tins, whether the cherries were boozy enough.

  She was not thinking about the smell of him, the feel of him as he held her firmly but let her be in charge. How desperately she wanted to place her head on his chest and tell him to fight for her, fight for all of them. To see through the coldness and the insistence that he should leave her alone, for Esme’s sake. Instead, she simply looked up to see his bright blue eyes boring into hers, as he was mouthing the words.

  ‘I love you so,’ he whispered along, eyes not leaving hers, ‘...always will.’

  Mollie stopped dancing and said three words before she scuttled from the room and up to the flat: ‘Fuck the cake.’

  ‘You know,’ Jamie called after her, yelling up the stairs, ‘Women in this family have got a terrible habit of running away from me when they have something to say.’

  ‘Maybe they’re waiting for you to get the hint!’ Mollie threw back from the landing.

  Esme opened the door and looked out at the two of them, her wet hair heavy down her back, wrapped in her fluffy blue towelling robe.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she frowned, looking back and forth between her parents.

  ‘Absolutely nothing.’ Mollie said distinctly, ‘Nothing at all.’

  ***

  Despite her childish behaviour, Jamie could not be dissuaded from games night. He sat there, laughing with Killian, teasing Chelsea as she desperately tried to avoid the snacks Mollie had put out, but suddenly gave in halfway through the evening and inhaled them, before getting tearful that she wouldn’t fit into her dress.

  ‘Here,’ Evie handed her a glass of wine, ‘take this and shut up. We don’t talk about calories and crap in here, this is a guilt-free zone. We have an enquiring young mind who will soon be a teenage girl, and we are not giving her any body issues, are we Ez?’

  ‘Nope... don’t think so,’ Esme shrugged. ‘Now what are we going to play? Time to vote!’

  ‘Scrabble!’ Kit said, putting an arm around Chelsea as she pushed the snacks towards him, ‘Chels, just eat the fucking Nik Naks, would you? What’s the point in being miserable for a party? We’ve already got my family coming, there’ll be misery enough.’

  ‘Well said,’ Killian grinned at his friend, then shook his head, ‘but no Scrabble.’

  ‘Actually, me and Ez bought a new addition for games night, didn’t we?’ Jamie piped up, holding a plastic bag. Esme nodded, looking at her mother proudly, and surveying the adults with a steely eye.

  ‘And you all have to promise to play. Pinky promise.’ Esme raised an eyebrow and tapped her foot, ‘Now.’

  ‘Esme sweetheart, how exactly do we all pinky promise, do you go around the group individually?’ Kit grinned, sipping at his beer.

  ‘No, silly, you all link pinkies in a circle.’

  Esme watched as the adults all crossed hands and linked pinky fingers, making a mess of it and laughing at themselves.

  ‘Well, that was atrocious.’ Esme shrugged, shaking her head, ‘Okay, here’s what we got...’

  She stood with her hands wide, like a little magician, gesturing for Jamie to pull it from the bag.

  ‘Twister!’

  The adults groaned in unison.

  ‘Baby girl, I have not been bendy enough for Twister since I was sixteen,’ Chelsea said sadly, inhaling her wine.

  ‘And you don’t want to know what she was doing that made her so flexible!’ Evie snorted, raising her glass, ‘Also, bullshit, Miss Hatha Yoga every day at six a.m. If anyone’s flexible it’s you.’

  Chelsea looked to Kit to defend her, but he shrugged and shook his head, ‘No way I’m daring to have an opinion here. Whatever level of flexibility you are, you’re amazing and I’m excited to spend my life telling you that... dear.’

  Jamie looked at the two of them, settling back and cuddling into each other, ‘You two are very calm about all of this getting married stuff. Aren’t you freaking out?’

  They looked at each other and laughed, heads tilting back and forth as they silently discussed whether to share their secret.

  ‘We’ve actually been married for a couple of weeks – legally.’ Chelsea shrugged, ‘Went to the registry office and got it over with. And so far, got to say, married life is pretty sweet. It’ll be even better when I don’t have to deal with wedding plans any more. That’s got to be the biggest advantage of being married.’

  ‘That and being able to eat without my mother calling to know what’s for dinner,’ Kit sighed.

  ‘Well, congrats,’ Jamie said, sticking out his hand to shake Kit’s, and kissing Chelsea on the cheek, ‘or best wishes, rather.’

  ‘Very courteous,’ Chelsea grinned up at him. ‘Ever the gentleman, Jay.’

  ‘Look, mate, you should come to the wedding,’ Kit said suddenly, looking at Chelsea, who looked at Mollie. Mollie looked at the floor.

  ‘Oh, no, really, thanks but...’

  ‘But nothing,’ Kit blathered on, gesturing wildly, ‘come and dance, and watch Esme being an amazing bridesmaid, and eat the delicious cake Mollie’s making for us. You’re part of the family now, right? You’ve got to come.’

  Jamie’s eyes slid sideways to Mollie, but she resolutely didn’t look at him, instead studying the back of the Twister box like it was written in Japanese.

  ‘Well, yeah, great. Thank you,’ Jamie exhaled awkwardly, hands in his pockets.

  ‘And feel free to bring a date if you want, we’ve got lots of room, it’s a really relaxed affair,’ Kit shrugged, finishing his beer, oblivious to the silence around him. Chelsea elbowed him in the ribs, her lips a thin line, but Kit just looked at her, confused.

  ‘So,’ Killian jumped in, wide-eyed. ‘Ez, we setting up Twister or what?’

  Time passed excruciatingly slowly for Mollie, who kept excusing herself to go and check on her cakes, when often she just sat in the darkness of the conservatory and breathed, thinking about nothing. She did play along with the game a couple of times, but whenever Jamie was playing, his arm brushing against hers, his body curving over hers, head near her neck, close enough to kiss, she dropped out on purpose so she could move away. It was impossible to think when he was too close.

  At the end of the evening, everyone slunk away gradually, not at all eager to leave. Chelsea rubbed her back and stretched, complaining about being old and kissed Esme on the cheek.

  ‘You make me feel ancient but you’re wonderful,’ she laughed. ‘We’ll go pick up your bridesmaid dress this week, okay?’

  ‘Will I match Celia?’

/>   ‘Mostly,’ Chelsea’s lips twitched, ‘but she’ll be there and we’ll go have food, okay? Lots of MSG and sugar.’

  Chelsea looked to Mollie, expecting a stern word or an exclamation, but there was nothing. Mollie was in another world, frowning at the floor.

  ‘Okay, well, see you guys,’ Kit hustled Chelsea through the door, and Mollie watched as their hands intertwined naturally, swinging back and forth between them. Evie and Killian had already gone upstairs, and Mollie was left to say goodbye to Jamie. They watched Chelsea and Kit disappear down the street before they spoke.

  ‘She’s a lot softer than she used to be,’ he commented, ‘she never used to let a boy hold her hand.’

  ‘That’s because boys tend to take it as a sign that they can guide your hand to things they’d rather you were holding,’ Mollie frowned.

  Esme looked up at her, ‘What do boys want you to hold?’

  ‘Footballs, obviously,’ Jamie jumped in, widening his eyes at Mollie.

  Esme pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose, crossed her arms and looked at Jamie in disappointment, ‘That’s gender stereotyping, Dad. And it does no one any favours.’

  ‘Oh right,’ Jamie nodded, ‘I see. Well, I’ll go and read up on that so I don’t make the same mistake.’

  ‘I think that’s wise,’ Esme nodded, reaching out her arms for a hug. ‘Goodnight, thanks for Twister.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ He squeezed her as he lifted her up, closing his eyes as his chin rested on her shoulder. Then he put her down and ruffled her hair, ‘Go on then, spit spot.’

  Esme looked to her mother, and as she nodded, ran off upstairs.

  ‘She thinks I don’t know she’s got two apple cookies stuffed in her back pockets,’ Mollie snorted, shaking her head, feeling the tiredness wash over her.

  When she turned back to look, Jamie was staring at her intently, leaning against the doorframe.

  ‘What’s up with you Molls, what’s going on?’

  He simply stared and waited, his face a blank canvas. He’d never had trouble with silence, always happy to wait for the answers he wanted. It was Mollie that broke whenever it was too quiet, whenever someone simply waited for her to fall apart. She could always be counted on to oblige. Except this time, it was about Esme, not about her.