by Matt Dunn
I find a bench overlooking the water, Charlie’s words echoing round my head, and sit down to try and make some sense of it all, but after an hour or so I’ve only reached one conclusion: life isn’t fair. I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to stop my best friend from getting married for all the wrong reasons, but instead all I’ve managed to do is make him more determined to go through with it. And to cap it all, now Charlie’s dad is going to be after me with a shotgun.
I look at my watch, and suddenly remember that I’m due to meet Mark for a drink this evening, so stand up and walk miserably back towards my second home. By the time I arrive at the bar and beckon Rudy over I’m more in need of a drink than I can ever recall.
‘Mine’s a large one!’ I say, without a trace of a smile.
Rudy takes one look at my sullen expression. ‘Jeez, Adam! I know you and Charlie are in what’s called a “serious” relationship, but you don’t have to take it so literally.’
When I don’t respond, Rudy raises one eyebrow and pours me a whisky, which I down in one and then struggle not to bring straight back up again. I slide my glass over for a refill.
‘Bit of a serious drink for this time in the afternoon,’ he says, removing my glass and pouring me a coffee instead. I don’t argue, and sip the steaming liquid gratefully.
‘Tell me something, Rudy. Do you like kids?’ I ask him.
Rudy looks at me suspiciously. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Have you ever thought about having them, you know, starting a family, all that stuff.’
He laughs. ‘Well, seeing as Pritchard and I don’t actually have a womb between us, that might be a little difficult.’
I put my cup back down on the bar. ‘No, I mean, don’t you sometimes wish that things could have been different, and maybe you’d followed a different route, where you’d have someone to pass the bar on to when you and Pritchard are gone?’
Rudy mulls this over. ‘Hmm,’ he says. ‘A little Pritchard?’ He seems to find the prospect highly amusing, but I decide to press on.
‘Well, don’t you want someone to keep you later in life, when you’re a drooling wreck in a retirement home somewhere?’
‘Adam – you paint such a rosy picture of old age. Besides, that’s what Pritchard’s for.’ Rudy taps the side of his nose. ‘He’s younger than me, you know.’
Even in my somewhat preoccupied state, I don’t have to be particularly perceptive to know he’s being sarcastic. ‘Seriously, Rudy. Has it never crossed your mind?’
Rudy walks round to my side of the bar and sits down. ‘Why are you asking?’
I take a deep breath. ‘Because . . . I’m going to be a father.’ It’s the first time I’ve uttered those words and I’m surprised at how strange they sound. Fortunately Rudy doesn’t clap me on the back and order champagne for the whole bar.
‘Charlie?’
‘Yup.’
‘Didn’t your mother ever warn you how addictive Charlie can be?’ he asks. ‘Perhaps you should have just said no . . .’
I lean heavily on the bar. ‘A little late for that now.’
I explain the whole situation in great detail, although leave out the part about my mighty sperm, and tell him about her ultimatum, or so it seems to me, tomorrow night.
‘So,’ says Rudy. ‘That doesn’t leave you a lot of time. She’s obviously going to want an answer of some sort.’
‘I know. And I’ve been trying to think it through logically, but . . . A baby?’ I shrug and look at him helplessly.
‘Well, there’s your problem,’ he says, leaning back and folding his arms. ‘You’re looking for logical answers to a trick question. It’s not really about the baby.’
I look up, confused. ‘It’s not?’
Rudy rolls his eyes. ‘Of course not. Well, not completely. It’s about you and Charlie.’
I’m no clearer. ‘How do you mean?’
‘What do you feel for Charlie? Forgetting the baby for a moment.’
I wish I could. ‘Er, dunno. She’s not bad, I guess.’
‘Adam. Drop the bravado. It’s me you’re talking to. Do you think you and her could have any kind of future together?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps. I haven’t really though about it.’ Just call me Mr Commitment.
‘Well, you can be sure she has. Do you love her?’
I feel myself blushing. ‘Er, I guess. Possibly. Yeah, maybe.’
‘Have you ever told her?’
‘Don’t be ridic—’ Rudy’s steely gaze stops me mid-flip. ‘No. Not in so many words.’
‘Well think about it. You two have been ticking over quite nicely for a while now, but not once have you told the poor girl how you feel about her.’ Rudy holds up a hand to stop my feeble protestations. ‘So perhaps, even though things are going great, she’s been feeling a little insecure. Possibly she’s been hurt in the past – who knows? Maybe she’s even aware of your reputation. And now, this happens, and presumably she knows that having children isn’t particularly high on your list of priorities. Maybe that’s why she’s given you this get-out clause. At least this way she won’t feel that it’s her you’re rejecting.’
I look at him, dumbfounded. ‘So what do I do?’
Rudy thinks for a moment. ‘Does the thought of being a father scare you?’
‘God yes!’
‘Good. It should. Will having this baby make her happy?’
‘Oh yes.’ I’m sure of that.
He stands up and leans in close to me. ‘Well then, what you’ve really got to decide is this. How important is it to you that she’s happy? And, then, how much do you want to be a part of that happiness? Once you’ve worked those two things out, all you have to do is tell her.’
Rudy pats me on the shoulder and heads off to serve some other customers that, as usual, he’s been ignoring for the last five minutes. And as I sit there, staring into space, I realize that Charlie’s happiness is probably the most important thing I can imagine. But as for the second part . . .
I order another coffee and leaf distractedly through a discarded copy of the Evening Standard until Mark arrives, on time for once. He nods hello to Rudy and slumps down on the bar stool next to me, yawning loudly.
‘Keeping you up?’ calls Rudy, sliding a beer along the bar, which Mark just about manages to grab.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘India wakes me up at six o’clock every morning. I can’t even remember when my last lie-in was.’
Oh great, I think to myself. ‘How is my goddaughter, by the way?’
‘Fine,’ he says. ‘A little terror sometimes, but I wouldn’t change her for the world.’
‘And Julia? Not giving you too much of a hard time? Particularly given the whole, you know, pregnancy thing.’
Mark puts down his bottle and looks at me sagely. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘I’ve decided that the secret of a happy marriage is a bit like doing your tax return.’
‘What’s this? The Accountant’s Guide to Relationships?’
‘No, I’m serious. As long as you declare everything up front, you’ll avoid any unexpected demands.’ I smile politely at this.
We find a table, order something to eat and spend the next few minutes talking about nothing in particular. Eventually, I can’t ignore it any more.
‘Mark, why did you and Julia decide to start a family as soon as you got married?’ Julia had become pregnant with India on their honeymoon, and I’d never asked him why so quickly, mainly because I’d never been interested. Now, for obvious reasons, I am.
He looks up, a little surprised I guess at hearing such a question from me, and takes a large bite of his taco before answering.
‘Well, to tell the truth, we hadn’t quite planned on having India so quickly, and I for one had always been very careful on the withdrawals and deposits front, if you see what I mean.’ I do, but I wish the image wasn’t quite so vivid. ‘But,’ he continues, ‘on our honeymoon we went for a walk along the beach one day and found a particu
larly sheltered stretch, and just couldn’t help ourselves.’
‘Didn’t you have any, er, protection?’
Mark smirks. ‘Sadly just a bottle of factor 25, the application of which started the whole thing off. Besides, we thought it would be okay, given the time in Julia’s cycle and all that. Unpredictable things, the female reproductive organs.’
Too right, I’m thinking.
‘Why do you ask?’ he says. ‘Feeling broody?’
‘No, it’s just, I mean, did you always know you wanted kids? That you’d be a good dad?’
Mark shakes his head. ‘Not really. To tell the truth, I had visions of Julia and I spending a good few years together before we even broached the subject. I hadn’t really thought about it until it was sort of sprung on me, if you like, and then when I saw how different Julia was when she learnt she was going to be a mum it kind of made it all worthwhile.’ He makes an embarrassed face. ‘Corny, I know.’
‘Different? How?’
Mark ponders this for a while. ‘Happier. More . . . radiant. And that was just while she was pregnant.’ He takes a long sip of his beer. ‘Then, once India was born, well, I know it sounds like a real cliché, but the minute this little thing, this little part of the two of you, sees the light of day, and looks up at you, or grabs your finger with her tiny hand, I challenge any man to not go through an amazing range of emotions. Pride, protectiveness, love . . .’
‘That’s what Nick said he felt when he got the Ferrari.’
Mark gives me a dirty look. ‘That’s one of the reasons we made you India’s godfather. So you’d at least get to experience this and share in the development and shaping of a new life.’
‘What?’ I’m a little shocked. ‘Don’t you think I’ll ever have kids then? Get married? Settle down?’
Mark laughs. ‘Well, you’ve got to admit, it’s a little far from your current circumstances, isn’t it?’
Little does he know. ‘Er, yeah, but maybe I’ve just not met the right girl yet.’
‘Or maybe you have but you’re just too scared to admit it.’ Mark downs the remainder of his beer. ‘Are you having one?’
I almost choke.
He holds up his empty bottle. ‘I’m getting another drink. Are you having one?’
‘Oh. Er, yeah. Thanks.’
Mark orders a couple of beers and puts one down on the table in front of me. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, Adam. When you have children your priorities change. Really change. Suddenly you realize that you’re not the most important person in the world any more, and you don’t just come second, but in fact third, behind your baby and its mother.’ He takes an olive from the bowl on the table and chews it thoughtfully. ‘That might be quite hard for some people to take.’
‘Meaning me?’
Mark nods, swallows and helps himself to another olive. ‘Yeah. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I look at you with your superficial life, and I see Nick with the way he just throws money at everything in the hope it will make him happy, and while I might occasionally get pissed off because I can’t have a flashier car, or I get woken up by India in the middle of the night because there’s a monster under her bed, I just have to look at my little daughter when she’s asleep, or playing happily with Julia, and I have absolutely no doubt who’s got it right.’
‘In your opinion,’ I say, testily.
‘Yup – in my opinion. Which is all that really matters, right? “Perception is reality” and all that bollocks. Fatherhood is great. Even Julia thinks you should try it one day.’
I bang my bottle down. ‘Why are people like you and Julia always trying to change other people’s minds about this sort of thing? It’s like when I bought the flat and you kept telling me that I could have bought a whole house out where you live for that sort of money. Why do people always have to assume you don’t know facts like this. What do you think I’m going to do – slap my forehead and say “Oh no – if only I’d known, what a fool I’ve been”? Christ, Mark, people make choices in life and if you want to live where I live, or, more importantly, live how I live, then you know the price you have to pay for it. If you make a rational decision to do that then surely that’s fine.’
‘Steady on, mate,’ says Mark, looking a little shocked at my outburst. ‘And, anyway, how can not wanting children be a rational decision? It’s a biological fact!’
How can tying yourself to the same woman for the rest of your life be rational? I want to ask him, but bite my tongue. Instead, I try and explain.
‘What I mean is, when you tell people you don’t want kids, they assume that you haven’t given the decision much thought and always try and change your mind. Don’t you realize, it’s actually a harder decision to make not to have them than just to go along with the rest of life’s lemmings and reproduce two point four of the little buggers. It’s the same reaction I get when I tell people I don’t like fish. They always want me to taste theirs, thinking surely theirs will be the piece of wonder fish that will suddenly convert my tastebuds, not even thinking that my opinion might be based on years of consideration and experience.’
Mark looks at me disdainfully. ‘And your point is?’
‘My point is that I’m fed up of other people asking me to try their fish. This desire for children? I just don’t have it. Can’t you just accept that, just as some of us are bad drivers, or can’t cook, or have no ear for music, some of us can’t get how children work?’
‘They change your life . . .’
‘What’s wrong with my life the way it is? And don’t you take this the wrong way, but who are you to judge me? What’s so great about trying to produce a couple of smaller versions of you and Julia, who’ll grow up in a world with fewer natural resources and then help to reduce these even further. You’ll spend all your time and effort working to provide for these kids in the hope that by the time you’re past it they’ll be earning enough to support you and make sure you can afford to live out your last days in a decent manner. Why not spare yourself all the trouble and effort, keep the money you would have wasted on their education, toys and so on and buy yourself a Porsche, or even just stick it in the bank and watch it, rather than them, grow?’
Mark’s a little taken aback by this. ‘But think what you’re missing out on—’
‘No, Mark. Think what you’re missing out on. And that’s part of the problem. I think a lot of people have kids because, and don’t take this at all personally, they can’t think of anything else constructive to do with their lives, so they take the easy option and decide to do what everyone else does. And they don’t just have the one, either – they go for two or three in the hope that at least one will turn out okay, and not become a drug addict, or a criminal, or even a lawyer. And you ask me why I don’t want to get involved in this?’
Mark looks at me, open mouthed. ‘Er . . .’
‘Far better surely that I assume the position of dutiful godfather and play, however small, an active, positive role in India’s upbringing?’
‘Maybe,’ concedes Mark. ‘But aren’t you worried that you’ll get to old age and find yourself sitting there all alone, your Porsche rusting in the garage, because you’re too decrepit to drive it and you’ve got no one to leave it to?’
‘Again, I draw your attention to the benefit of godchildren.’
‘But bringing a little person into the world is so rewarding.’
‘Surely so is, I don’t know, painting a picture, or learning a language?’
‘Ye-es,’ concedes Mark. ‘But refresh my memory – which of those are you currently doing? And, besides, those things are rewarding for you. This is for someone else. You might want to think about that for a change.’
We sit in an embarrassed silence for a while, staring at our beer, while Mark finishes off the olives. ‘Anyway,’ he says, frowning at the empty bowl, ‘why are you talking like this? Anyone would think you’d gone and got Charlie pregnant.’
When I don’t contradict him, his expression ch
anges to one of concern. ‘You haven’t, have you?’
I look at him helplessly. ‘I don’t know how it happened.’
‘Well, usually, the sperm swim up the fallopian tubes . . .’
‘No, I mean . . .’
‘I know what you mean,’ he says, smiling. ‘And, at the risk of asking a rather indelicate question, she wants to have it?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘And it’s yours? No other shooter near her grassy knoll?’
I haven’t even thought about the possibility it isn’t. ‘Yeah.’ I grin, even though I’m not feeling particularly amused by the whole situation.
‘Bit ironic, isn’t it?’ observes Mark, once I’ve finished explaining the circumstances.
‘Ironic?’
‘Yeah. You know – here’s Julia and me, and it takes us years of trying to have another baby, and here’s you, trying all your life not to have one, and the first time you . . . well, bingo! What are you going to do?’
‘Good question. I was hoping you might be able to throw some light on the whole situation for me, but . . .’ I let my voice tail off.
‘Fuck, mate. Why on earth did you let me lecture you like that for the last five minutes?’
I shrug. ‘I dunno. I just wanted to talk round it in an unbiased way, I suppose. Try thinking outside the box for once, if you know what I mean.’
But what was I hoping? That Mark could suddenly convince me I would, in fact, like fish? Or even that Rudy would provide me with some incredible unbiased revelation? I shake my head slowly. ‘I just don’t know how they work.’
‘Babies or women?’
I manage a wry smile. ‘Both, it seems.’
‘Listen,’ he says, an awkward look on his face. ‘Do you want to, you know, talk about this some more?’
I shake my head. ‘Er, no, thanks. I just need to think this through on my own for a while.’