by Matt Shaw
“Okay, when you get out we’ll find you something to eat....”
Shit.
We fall back into an uncomfortable silence as my brain struggles to find something neutral to talk about. Something to help us move away from the situation we are both in...
“How come you are so keen for me to keep the baby?” I asked.
Stupid.
Hardly steering the conversation towards a neutral setting.
Well done.
Silence.
Did he get up and go downstairs, to get the sandwich, and I just didn’t hear? I don’t repeat my question - if he is there, maybe it’s for the best he didn’t hear.... or did hear and just chose not to answer.
I splashed around a little to try and get a reaction from him.
Nothing.
No reaction.
He isn’t there.
“Dad?”
Again, nothing. He can’t be there.
Can he?
* * * * *
Fiona is weeping.
I’ve never seen her so upset - not that it’s not understandable. I have no words for her.
Nothing.
Normally, I find words quite easily - when I need to. But not now. Nothing’s coming out. I simply squeeze her hand harder and let her weep. Let her get it out of her system.
I feel bad for her and yet, at the same time, I feel jealous. I wish I could get it out of my system too. I wish it would hit me as hard. I just feel numb. A weird sensation, ever since the Doctor told me our baby was dead.
“Did you want to see?” I asked. “It might help...”
She tried to regain her composure enough to answer me, “Help with what?”
Closure, I guess.
I can’t answer her with that. Too harsh.
I can’t answer her with anything.
I bowed my head to where her hand rested on the hospital bed and gave it a little peck.
Her crying filled the room.
Squeeze the hand.
There’s nothing more I can do.
* * * * *
“Daddy?” Jessica called from the bathroom.
I didn’t respond.
Asking why I am so desperate not to lose this baby; she doesn’t know about our loss.
She doesn’t know about our grief.... her eventual adoption.
She doesn’t need to know.
It’ll only complicate things. I don’t need any more complications in the next few months. And neither does she. It’ll be bad for everyone - including the baby.
Jessica’s splashing around in the bathroom brings me back to reality; dragging my thoughts from the past I struggle to let go of.
“Dad?”
A pause.
“I’m here. Come on, time to get out - let’s get something to eat...”
I didn’t wait for an answer, just stood up and walked down the stairs - towards the kitchen - to prepare her sandwich. She seems to be making a bit more of an effort now. I’m sure it won’t be long before she joins me in the kitchen.
Unless we should eat in the dining room?
Would that be better?
No.
Kitchen.
Get her closer again but not that close. It will only be harder when the time comes. The more I think about the baby.... the more I want it. The more I realise the time has come. There is no turning back now.
I took some bread from the side and pulled out two slices. Butter, from the fridge. Ham? Can’t remember if she even likes ham.
Sure she will.
“Can I see him?”
Jessica’s voice made me jump, as she walked into the room - still damp from the bath - wearing a dressing gown I brought from home for her.
I turned to face her.
“Who?” I asked.
“Darren. Maybe I need to hear him out. See if he really will support me with this baby....”
I smiled at her.
Pretending.
Pretending to be happy for her sudden change of heart.
I wonder, is she saying what she thinks I want to hear? Foolish girl if she tries to pull the wool over my eyes. I’ll see through her. Straight away.
“You want the baby now?!” I tested her.
“I’m not sure,” she said.
Good.
If she said a definite ‘yes’ she’d be lying.
She’s confused.
That’s natural.
More realistic to what she should be feeling.
Feelings.
Like I know what I’m talking about.
“If you’re looking out for me.... and mum.... and if he will stand with me...”
“Yes?”
“Well, maybe everything will be okay?”
No.
I don’t think so.
I smiled at her again.
Keep her calm.
“So - can I see Darren?”
“I’ll see if I can track him down,” I lied.
I quickly threw her sandwich together and put it on a plate before passing it over to her.
“There, eat up....”
She took the sandwich and inspected it closely before taking a bite.
I feel vaguely insulted. As if I’d poison her.
Not with the baby, anyway.
Actually, maybe I should start to have a think about.... when the time comes. Rather be prepared and not need the information compared to the other way round - needing the methods and gameplan and not having it.
Perhaps poisoning is the way to go. Especially as she’ll be so trusting by that stage - I’m sure she won’t always inspect things I prepare for her.
Maybe get Fiona to prepare it.
I smiled at her, “Nice?”
“Yes, thank you.”
We stood in the kitchen, for a while, in silence. Her eating her sandwich and me stood there - watching her. Can’t decide as to whether I regret where we’ve come or whether I’m excited by it.
“Do you think Darren will still want to talk to me? Has he even come by the house since we last spoke?” she asked.
Not entirely sure how to field this question. At least she’s asking me and not Fi. Whenever Fiona tells a lie she always blushes. Whereas me... I’m getting quite good at it.
2.
Here he comes. Just as I knew he would. Walking nervously up the driveway after receiving the text I sent from Jessica’s phone.
Can’t let Fiona or Jessica see him; I grabbed my coat from the bannister and disappeared out of the front door to meet him. Jessica’s in her bedroom, no doubt crying after the lounge incident. No chance of her seeing me - or Darren....
But Fiona...
Fiona is just sat there, in the lounge. She hasn’t moved since Jessica told her she was aborting. She could snap out of it at any moment now....
“I’m here to see Jessica,” said Darren as I walked towards him, “I don’t want any trouble....”
I put my finger to my lips - a gesture to hopefully quieten him....
“She text me.... wants to talk...”
A gesture which he obviously didn’t understand.
“I sent the text,” I hissed.
“What?”
I put my arm around him and spun him around so he was facing his car again.
“Walk with me,” I said.
A quick look over my shoulder.
No one is watching.
Good.
I walked him towards his car.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“A drive,” I told him. “Give me your keys, I’ll drive....”
“Are you insured?”
I fired him a look.
No answer needed. He handed me his car keys and made his way to the passenger seat.
Good boy.
I climbed into the driver’s seat and slid the key into the ignition.
“Seat-belt,” I told Darren the wanna-be responsible father who doesn’t even like to wear his seat-belt. Great start, kid.
He put his seat
-belt on.
“Look,” he said, as I pressed my foot down on the accelerator, “I love your daughter.... and I didn’t mean for her to get pregnant...”
“But she did...”
“Well.... yes....” he said.
A pause.
I obviously took the wind out of his sails. Definitely not a real man.
“I want this baby. I want her to keep it as much as you do,” he eventually said.
Inspiring.
Took a long time for him to think of that. I was expecting something more, to be frank.
“You need to give her some space,” I said.
“What?”
“You need to give her some space...”
“But....”
“Space.”
“We need to talk this through. I think I can convince her it’s a good idea...”
“No, you can’t.”
“Then I need to be there, for her, when she has the abortion.”
“No, you don’t. Give her some space.... I’ll talk to her. You’re just going to make things worse - trust me.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“Trust me?”
“Make things worse. I don’t think I’ll make things worse....”
“Or trust me...”
“I trust you.”
Ha!
Hook, line....
“Then let me deal with this. Give her some space. I’ll talk to her. I’ll make her see sense.”
“I just think...”
“I’m her fucking father. I think I know how her mind works. You keep showing up - you keep texting - you will scare her away...”
He doesn’t say anything. Starting to learn?
I pulled into a car-park, just off the main road, and killed the ignition.
“Can you do this for me?”
He looked at me blankly.
“Can you give her some space? Let me talk to her - we both want the same thing.”
There was a slight delay. I’m guessing it was caused by my words sinking in.
“Well, when can I talk to her?”
“I don’t know....”
“Can you at least tell her I love her?”
“Sure.”
No. The further he is from her - the better... wait... what’s that?
Darren turned away from me and looked out of the car window. His shoulders moving up and down, giving him away.
Crying.
Definitely not a real man.
“I’m sorry,” he said. Sorry for being pathetic, I guess. “I love her.”
He doesn’t know what love is.
Puppy love.
Pathetic.
Play nice.
“I don’t want to lose her.”
Too late.
“I’ll talk to her,” I lied. Well, a half lie. I will talk to her but not for his benefit. I need him to vanish. Leave her be. She doesn’t need him in her life. She doesn’t need him confusing things with his mixed-signals of what he perceives to be ‘love’. She needs him to be gone. Gone for good. She needs to concentrate on her baby. Our baby.
“Really?” he asked.
I nodded, “Of course. I promise, everything will be okay. Everything will be fixed. This.... This is just a blip.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a problem. You just need to trust me and give her some space.”
He nodded.
Sucker.
“I’ll drive to the bottom of my road and walk home...”
“Do they know you are with me?”
I shook my head as I fired up the engine and, again, he nodded.
* * * * *
Darren’s gone. Hopefully for good.
“Where have you been?” asked Fiona as I walked through the front door.
“I went for a walk to clear my head.”
I’m getting good at lying. Should get a medal.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“Upstairs.”
I turned towards the stairs and Fiona grabbed my arm, “What are you going to do?”
“Just talk.”
With a reluctance she let go of my arm. What was she expecting me to say, I wonder?
“I’ll be back down soon...”
“Should I come with you?”
I shook my head, “No, she’ll think we’re ganging up on her. I’ll be fine...”
I walked up the stairs and stopped outside of Jessica’s bedroom door. Why do I feel nervous? Ignore it.
A split second before I knocked gently on Jessica’s door.
I shouldn’t have to knock - I own the house.
There is no ‘come in’.
Ignoring the lack of invite, I opened the door and stepped in, closing the door behind me so we wouldn’t be disturbed by Fiona walking in on us.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
Her red raw eyes gave away how she felt; upset.
“I just want to be alone,” she whispered, as she turned away from me.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” I said. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through....”
I don’t know how a murderer would feel just before they killed someone.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t want it.... I wish I could turn back the clock.”
“Life isn’t that simple, I’m afraid.”
I sat on the bed next to where she was laying and rested my hand on her leg.
“Is mum okay?”
I didn’t say anything. No point in lying by saying ‘yes’ and no point in upsetting Jessica more by telling her the truth.
“I know you’re scared but - this could be the start of something amazing for you. The love you feel for your own child....”
“I’m not saying I don’t want children,” she interrupted.
“See.... the start of something amazing...” I smiled. She won’t kill this baby. Already she’s coming round to the idea.
“I just don’t want them now,” she said. “I’m too young.... I’m not ready.”
“You’re never ready. Never truly ready.”
“It’s not the right time...”
Maybe she is serious about getting rid of it.
“There’s no rush to get it terminated,” I told her. Maybe time will make her see sense.
“There’s no point putting it off - I won’t change my mind,” she said.
God only knows where she got this stubborness from. Certainly not me.
“I just don’t want you doing something you’re going to regret. Your mother and I think...”
“I won’t regret it. My only regret is getting pregnant. I’ve ruined everything...”
She turned her back on me again, as she turned onto her side. A clear sign that this conversation is over. I wait a few more minutes to see if she’s going to say something else but she’s done - nothing else.
I stood up and walked to the door - a final look back to Jessica before leaving.
Stubborn.
Stupid.
I turned away from the door and noticed Fiona stood in the doorway of our own bedroom. A look of anticipation on her face. And hope.
“Well?” she asked.
* * * * *