I start to feel a bit creepy just staring at her, so I roll onto my back and think about last night instead. It comes back to me in snapshots – kissing on the stairs, kissing on the landing, kissing in the doorway to my room, kissing as we made our way towards the bed. We didn’t speak. We just kissed. In fact, I’m pretty certain I’ve never kissed anyone for that long and that continuously before. Not that it felt like a chore. It felt the opposite. It felt as natural as breathing, as thrilling as a bungee jump. My lips feel sore and slightly swollen. I like it. I don’t want them ever to return to normal. I want ‘recently kissed by Jojo Bright’ to be my default state from this moment on.
I imagine the day ahead. I’ll let Jojo doze a bit longer and then I’ll make her breakfast. If it’s a nice day, maybe we can go for a walk, down to the river perhaps. And if it’s not, we can hang out here. Maybe we can watch a film, or listen to some more records. If I’m honest, I don’t care what we do. I just want to be with her.
I must fall back to sleep because the next thing I know, the light is brighter and Jojo is sitting on the edge of my desk chair pulling on her socks. She’s back in her own clothes, the Rolling Stones T-shirt folded neatly and placed at the end of the bed.
‘Hi,’ she says, biting her lip.
‘Hey,’ I say, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
‘I should get going,’ she says.
‘Now?’ I grope for my phone so I can check the time. It’s just gone nine. ‘It’s still early.’
‘I know. I just …’ Her voice trails off.
‘What about breakfast?’ I ask.
‘Breakfast?’
‘Yeah. Do you like eggs, then?’ I say. ‘I’m a demon scrambler.’
A ‘demon scrambler’? What am I even on about?
‘No, thanks.’
‘Toast then? Or cereal? We’ve got cornflakes, Coco Pops, Crunchy Nut, granola, some thing Ruby’s into that’s like 50% marshmallows …’
‘Honestly, it’s fine,’ Jojo says. ‘I’m actually not all that hungry.’
‘Well, at least let me get you a tea or coffee then.’
Jojo hesitates.
‘Please,’ I add.
‘OK.’
I jump out of bed and pull on a T-shirt and pair of tracksuit bottoms over my boxers.
Down in the kitchen, Jojo sits at the breakfast bar as I make her tea (not too strong, milky, half a sugar). I commit her preferences to memory. Just in case.
There are so many things I want to say.
Last night was incredible.
I don’t want you to go home after you’ve drunk your tea.
You look really fucking beautiful when you sleep.
But I can’t seem to pluck up the courage to say any of them.
‘Is it OK?’ I ask instead, nodding at the steaming mug in her hands.
‘Spot-on,’ she says.
I take a deep breath. ‘About last night,’ I begin.
‘Please don’t,’ Jojo says.
‘Please don’t what?’ I ask, blinking.
‘Say … stuff.’
I’m opening my mouth to ask her what on earth she means when I hear the lock in the front door. I enter the hallway just in time for Mum, Laleh and Roxy to tumble in, Roxy in Mum’s arms.
‘Hey, sweetheart,’ Mum says. They all look knackered.
‘What are you guys doing here?’ I ask. ‘I thought you weren’t due back until teatime.’
‘We think Roxy might be allergic to Mum and Dad’s new cat,’ Mum says, sighing. ‘She’s been up all night coughing and sneezing, poor baby.’ She kisses a miserable-looking Roxy on the head. ‘Come on, you,’ she adds. ‘Let’s get you a drink of water, then straight to bed.’
In the kitchen, Jojo is standing next to the fridge, her face bright red.
‘Oh, hello,’ Mum says, setting Roxy down.
‘Mum, you remember Jojo,’ I say.
‘Of course I do,’ Mum says. ‘You’re Frankie’s friend.’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you?’ Roxy says, her face visibly brightening.
‘Er, yes,’ Jojo says.
‘Is she here too?’ Roxy asks eagerly.
‘Er, no,’ Jojo stammers. ‘She’s in Tenerife.’
‘Awwwwwww,’ Roxy says, pouting.
‘Sorry,’ Jojo says, her face growing redder by the second.
Mum looks from me to Jojo and back to me again.
‘Jojo and I were at the same party last night,’ I say.
‘And I forgot my house keys,’ Jojo blurts. ‘So, er, Ram said I could stay here.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, following her lead. ‘She, er, slept in Laleh’s bed.’
‘I hope that’s OK,’ Jojo adds quickly.
‘Sure,’ Laleh says, shrugging and prising the lid off the biscuit tin.
‘I was just going actually,’ Jojo says, tipping her unfinished tea in the sink and rinsing out her mug.
‘Oh, don’t rush away on our account,’ Mum says. ‘Please.’
‘No, no, I need to get back,’ Jojo says.
She wishes Mum, Laleh and Roxy a stilted ‘Happy New Year’ and heads for the door.
I follow her.
‘What are you doing today?’ I ask in a low voice as she sits on the bottom step – the exact same step we collapsed onto kissing less than five hours ago – and laces up her trainers.
‘I have plans with my mum and stepmum,’ she says.
Only she doesn’t. They were at a party in the Peak District last night and aren’t due back until the evening. She told me so last night. Last night, when everything was different. When the world was alight with possibility. I want to go back in time and hold onto it somehow, bottle it, keep it safe from harm.
Jojo stands up and pulls on her coat. I watch her, chewing my lip.
‘Thanks for having me,’ she says, not quite meeting my eye as she yanks her jade-green bobble hat down over her hair. The colour makes her eyes look even more striking.
‘You’re welcome,’ I murmur.
As I sleepwalk towards the door and unlock it, there are a million things I want to say but I don’t manage any of them, my tongue in knots.
‘Happy New Year,’ Jojo says, stepping onto the path. It’s pearly white with frost.
‘Happy New Year,’ I echo.
I stand in the open doorway and watch her walk down the path and turn left onto the pavement.
I will her to look back.
She doesn’t.
Go after her, a voice at the back of my head whispers as she walks down the street.
She doesn’t want me to, I hiss back.
How do you know that?
‘Jojo!’ I yell. ‘Wait!’
I slip my feet into a pair of old wellies and run after her, the cold air nipping my bare arms. As I plant myself in front of her, I realize I have no idea what I’m about to say. All I know is, I have to say something.
‘What is it?’ Jojo asks.
‘I want to see you again.’
‘Ram, we can’t.’
‘At least think about it.’
‘It was a one-off.’
Despite her words, the tremor in her voice gives me a sliver of hope.
‘But why?’ I say. ‘I mean, do you want it to be? I don’t think I do.’
‘It’s not about what we want, Ram.’
‘Of course it is.’
‘What about Frankie?’
‘But you called her. She said it was OK.’
‘There’s a pretty big difference between just hanging out and what ended up happening, Ram.’
‘She’d understand.’
‘Would she?’
‘Well, maybe not right away, but give her a bit of time …’
Jojo shakes her head. ‘No. It’s not fair.’
‘But last night. It was … damn, it was amazing, Jojo. Are you honestly prepared to turn your back on that?’
Jojo hesitates before answering. ‘We have to.’
‘But Jojo—’
‘Frankie’s my best friend,’ she says, talking over me. ‘And you were her first love.’
I wince.
‘But that’s all in the past now,’ I say. ‘We broke up.’
‘Yeah, like barely two months ago.’
‘She was the one who dumped me, remember?’
‘It doesn’t matter. This would crush her.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I know Frankie. And I know how her heart works. Any other girl, she might be able to cope with. But me?’ Jojo shakes her head hard. ‘No way.’
‘What about further down the line? Once there’s a bit more water under the bridge? I mean, I’ll wait, if that’s what you’re asking.’
Jojo takes a deep breath. ‘Ram. I like you. I like you a lot. And last night was … amazing.’ Her cheeks flush. ‘But Frankie cannot ever know about it.’
‘What, never?’
‘Never.’
‘But things might change. Maybe if she starts seeing someone else …?’
Jojo doesn’t say anything, just chews her bottom lip, her face tense with worry. All I want to do is hug her and tell her it’ll all be OK and take her back inside.
‘Can I text you at least?’ I ask.
‘I think it’s best if you don’t. I’m sorry, Ram. I just can’t risk hurting her. She’s my best friend. She’s too precious to me.’
I let out a long exhalation. ‘You’re a really fucking good person, Jojo.’ And right now, I wish you weren’t, I add silently.
Jojo laughs a hollow laugh. ‘No, I’m not, Ram.’
‘Yeah, you are. Frankie’s lucky to have you.’
She presses her lips together and for a second I think she might cry. ‘I should go,’ she says.
‘Can I at least check in, in like, I dunno, the spring or something?’ I ask. ‘See how the land lies then.’
She shakes her head sadly. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘But—’
‘Please, Ram. Promise me you won’t make this harder than it already is.’
I hesitate.
‘Please,’ she repeats.
‘I promise.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she says.
And I can tell she means it. Not that it makes any of this feel any less shit.
‘Happy New Year,’ she adds one final time, her voice almost a whisper.
‘Happy New Year,’ I murmur.
There’s a beat, then she turns on her heel and walks briskly away from me.
This time I let her go.
When I return inside, I head into the kitchen where Mum and Laleh are eating crumpets slathered with peanut butter.
‘Laleh,’ Mum says. ‘Would you mind going into the living room?’
‘Why?’ Laleh asks.
‘I just want to have a private word with your brother.’
‘Can I watch telly?’
‘Yes. But make sure you close the door. I don’t want you to wake Roxy.’
Satisfied with this arrangement, Laleh picks up her plate and leaves the room.
‘So, what’s up?’ I ask, peeling a sticker off a sad-looking apple from the fruit bowl.
‘You tell me,’ Mum says, cocking her head to one side.
I shrug.
‘Where did you say Jojo slept again?’
‘In Laleh’s bed.’
‘I thought that was what you said. It’s just that I put Roxy to bed just now, and, call me crazy, but Laleh’s bunk didn’t look all that slept in to me.’
I hesitate.
Mum smiles. ‘Ram, it’s fine. You’re sixteen. I’m OK with girls in your bed. It’s just a bit of a surprise – I didn’t realize you and Jojo were an item.’
‘We’re not,’ I say.
Mum blinks. ‘Oh. I assumed …’
I shake my head and take a bite of the apple. It’s too soft, the flesh all woolly.
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘Not right now, thanks.’
‘OK, sweetheart. But know that I’m here if you change your mind.’
I nod. ‘I might just head upstairs actually, have a lie-down. It was kind of a late one.’
She gives my shoulder a squeeze and lets me go.
Up in my room, the twin indentations from mine and Jojo’s heads are still visible on the pillows. I chuck the apple in the bin and pick up the T-shirt she wore, lifting it to my nose. It smells of us both, our scents mingling together. It works. It makes me want to chase after her and wave it under her nose as proof, but I get the feeling it wouldn’t change anything. At least, not right now.
I flop on to the bed, open Spotify on my phone and type ‘First Day of My Life, Bright Eyes’ into the search bar. I close my eyes and listen to the song five times in a row like the lovesick fool that I’ve become.
Chapter 32
Was that all really only nine months ago? It feels like a lifetime has passed. In the gap, it’s taken on a hazy dreamlike quality, my memories of the night reduced to a series of flickering snapshots – Jojo reading from Sparkling Cyanide; Jojo creasing up with laughter as I danced around to ‘Superman’; the look in her eyes before we kissed for the first time; the way her skin felt against mine …
‘But we used protection,’ I say.
Another one of my memories – retrieving a condom from the box I keep at the back of my sock drawer, my fingers trembling as I ripped open the packet.
‘I know,’ Jojo says. ‘I was there too, remember?’
‘Did you realize it had split?’
‘Of course not. I would have done something about it if I had.’
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
There’s a pause.
‘When?’ I ask.
‘What do you mean?’
‘When did you, er, give birth?’
‘The first of August.’
I begin to do the maths in my head.
‘He was early,’ Jojo says, cutting off my calculations.
He. It’s a little boy. I have a little boy.
Wait.
The first of August. That’s three weeks ago.
Three whole weeks.
Twenty-one entire days.
He’s existed all this time and I had no idea. Jesus, I didn’t even know Jojo was pregnant. Why didn’t Frankie say anything? She must have known. There’s no way she couldn’t have. We just spent three hours stuck in a car together. Did it not dawn on her to mention it? To think it was relevant somehow? Unless this was all just some elaborate ruse to get me down here. But that makes no sense either.
My head is spinning.
‘When were you going to tell me?’ I ask.
Jojo doesn’t answer.
‘OK, let me rephrase that. Were you ever going to tell me?’
Jojo’s eyes flash. ‘I didn’t know what I was going to do, OK?’ she says. ‘I still don’t know!’
‘You’re talking like you’re the only one who gets a say.’
She doesn’t answer, just continues to rock the baby, our baby, in her arms.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant in the first place?’ I ask. ‘I know we’re not a couple or anything, but surely I was entitled to at least know. Whatever you’d have wanted to do, I’ve have supported you.’
‘I didn’t know,’ Jojo says, her voice flat.
‘About what?’
‘I didn’t know I was pregnant. And before you say, “that’s impossible”, let me assure you that it isn’t.’
‘But how could you not know?’ I ask. ‘Didn’t you put on weight and stuff?’
I picture my mum when she was pregnant with Laleh and then Roxy. Both times, she was huge, so huge I remember my dad wrapping his arms around her bump from behind and his fingers only just managing to interlace at the front.
‘I feel like a walrus,’ she used to sigh.
‘A very sexy walrus,’ Dad would say, kissing her on the neck and I’d groan, outwardly mortified by their affection for each other, at the same
time as being secretly delighted by it.
‘I didn’t show,’ Jojo says. ‘I was carrying him up behind my ribs apparently.’ She relays what the doctors told her. From her slightly weary delivery, I get the feeling this isn’t the first time tonight she’s had to explain this.
I nod, trying to take it in.
‘So when did you find out?’ I ask. ‘How late on was it?’
‘The first of August.’
‘Wait, you didn’t realize you were pregnant until you were, what, in labour?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where were you?’
‘The bathroom.’
‘You had him at home?’
She nods.
‘Was someone with you?’
She shakes her head.
‘You were all alone?’
She nods once more.
‘But that must have been terrifying.’
‘Ha. That’s one word for it.’
She’s trying to make light of it, but I can see the darkness in her eyes.
‘Did it last long?’ I ask instead. ‘The birth, I mean.’
‘Honestly? I have no idea …’
‘You should have called me,’ I say.
Jojo lets out a hollow laugh.
‘I’m serious,’ I say.
‘And said what? Oh, hi, I know we haven’t spoken in eight months, but just so you know, I’m in labour, oh, and guess what, I’m pretty certain it’s yours.’
‘I wouldn’t have cared!’ I insist. ‘Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to call or text you? Probably hundreds. The only reason I never actually pressed “call” or “send” was because of that promise you made me make on New Year’s Day.’
She bites her lip.
‘I’d have been there for you, Jojo. Every step of the way.’
‘It’s not that simple, Ram.’
‘I didn’t say it was. But that’s no reason to keep me out of everything. I mean, Jesus, Jojo, I’m his dad.’
Saying it out loud is one of the most surreal moments of my life.
I’m his dad.
First Day of My Life Page 20
