by Matt Dunn
‘We’ve got five minutes, surely?’ I plead, looking towards the director. My eyes feel red and watery from lack of sleep, and I guess this must give me an air of emotional fragility, because Charlie’s expression suddenly softens.
‘Okay,’ she says, sitting back down reluctantly. ‘Five minutes.’
I hold up the pliers. ‘Whilst I’m here, did you want me to . . . ?’
‘Not on your life!’ says Charlie, sitting on her hands.
As we sit facing each other across a mock kitchen, I realize that, with time against me, it’s time to play my trump card. I’m tired, but not too far gone to recognize that, even though it’s a bit of a shameful tactic, the Nick incident is a fantastic excuse for my bad behaviour. So firstly I tell her about the Ferrari and Beachy Head, and how I thought I’d lost my oldest friend, which makes Charlie take hold of my hand in sympathy. Then I describe my ‘encounter’ with Sandra, reminding Charlie that it was her idea, which makes her let go of it again. And, lastly, I explain what happened when I came round to her flat and found Rick there.
After I’ve finished, Charlie stares at me for what seems like the longest time.
‘Adam, that guy at my flat was—’
‘Your brother. I know that. Now. Which is why I need to apologize for my behaviour. I’ve not been thinking straight. All this stuff with you and me, and Nick and Sandra, and then when I saw you with Rick, I just flipped. Particularly because . . .’
‘Because he was so good looking?’ teases Charlie.
‘No. Because of what I felt . . . feel about you.’
Charlie looks puzzled. ‘What?’
‘I said, “Because of what I feel—”’
She rolls her eyes. ‘No,’ she says. ‘Not “what” as in “pardon”. “What” as in “What do you feel about me, Adam?”’
I take a deep breath and clear my throat. ‘I love you, Charlie. And I haven’t said that word to anyone before and meant it. Ever. Well, except for my mum. Oh, and my dad, of course. And Patch – he’s my parents’ dog. But I was a lot younger then. Anyway . . .’
Charlie stops my rambling by leaning across and placing a finger on my lips. ‘And how do you feel about the . . .’ She’s having difficulty saying the word, as if she still can’t believe it herself. ‘. . . Baby?’
It’s my turn to correct her. ‘Not the baby, Charlie. Our baby. And although you were right the other day, that, given the choice, I wouldn’t choose to be in this—’
‘Mess?’ interrupts Charlie.
I shake my head quickly. ‘No, not mess. Situation. Not right now, anyway. But we are. And I stress the word “we”.’
People are starting to move back into position around the set, and I realize that my five minutes are almost up, particularly when one of the My Little Pony lookalike ad-men walks up behind Charlie, coughs loudly and points to his watch.
‘Anyway’ I continue, ignoring him. ‘The point is, I do love you, and, because of that, the more I think about our situation, the less it concerns me . . .’
Charlie swallows hard. ‘It’s the other way round for me.’
I soldier on, worried that I’ll lose my nerve, which might lead to me losing something, or rather someone else.
‘. . . and, quite frankly, I know you’ve seen how awkward I am with kids, and I’m actually more worried that you won’t want me to be a part of our baby’s life than the changes I’ll have to make to mine.’
‘Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that,’ she says, affecting concern.
‘And all this stuff with Nick has made me realize some things too.’
Charlie grins. ‘Not to leave the roof down on your Ferrari?’
‘No, smart-arse. Not to take people for granted. And not to let opportunities pass you by. And how to recognize a good thing when you see it.’
Ponytail snorts derisively from where he’s still standing behind Charlie, causing me to redden slightly.
‘But aren’t you scared?’ whispers Charlie.
‘Of course I am. But I’ve also realized that sometimes you can go along through life and spend all your time looking down just to make sure you don’t tread in anything, when in reality all you’re doing is missing what’s going on around you. I know how much you want this baby. Our baby. And the fact that it makes you happy makes me happy too.’
‘Oh per-lease,’ sighs the ad-man, shaking his head and walking away.
I have a sudden brainwave. Picking up one of the bottles labelled ‘still’, I pour some water into a glass, placing it down on the table in front of Charlie.
‘Look at this,’ I tell her. ‘Some people would say the glass is half full, and some would say that it’s half empty, and there’s a big difference between the two points of view.’
Charlie frowns. ‘Thank you, Dr Freud.’
Placing another glass next to the first one, I find a different bottle of water and remove the screw top with a ‘pssst’.
‘Well, this is how I see my glass at the moment,’ I say, filling the second glass up until it spills over the rim and on to the table. ‘It’s overflowing. And with sparkling water.’
I sit smugly back in my seat, but Charlie just looks at me as if I’ve gone crazy, and starts to mop up the water with a tea towel. ‘So what are you saying, exactly?’
‘Didn’t I make it clear?’
Charlie looks puzzled. ‘No. Not unless I missed something.’
Taking the towel from Charlie, I hold on to her hands with both of mine. ‘I’m saying that I want to be with you, Charlie. And I want to be a part of a family – our family – if that’s the two of us, or three of us, or however many. I’m sorry if you don’t think that I’ve been as enthusiastic as you’d ideally like, but I will be. I promise.’
Her fingers tighten round mine. ‘But I’d hate to think that you were having to compromise,’ she says, quietly.
‘Quite the opposite, in fact,’ I say. ‘You inspire me, Charlie. You make me want to do the right thing all the time. And while I realize that I might not be able to make the rest of the world a better place, at least I can make something of our world.’
Charlie doesn’t say a word as I lean across and rest my hand on her stomach. ‘And I’m hoping that the minute little Adam, or little Charlie—’
‘Or Adam and Charlie,’ she interrupts mischievously.
‘. . . pops into this world I’ll suddenly be imbued with dad skills, and turn into the best father I can be. And if not . . .’
‘If not?’ sniffs Charlie.
‘If not, then I’ll give it a damn good try.’
Not for the first time in our relationship, Charlie starts crying, but this time these tears are good.
I think.
Acknowledgements
Thanks be to Patrick Walsh and Kate Lyall Grant; so good at spotting talented new writers that they can afford to spend time on the likes of me. To Tony, Loz, John, Stew, Chris, Seema and everyone else who has played even a small part in this process, I will be eternally grateful. And lastly, but by no means leastly, to the lovely Tina. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, have done it without you.
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