by Matt Shaw
Jesus.
Tonight is a life-changer.
I think I’m entitled to be nervous.
I got to the front door and paused.
Breathe in.
Calm.
You’ve got this.
It’s all good.
I reached forward, with my shakey right hand, and knocked on the door; hard enough to be heard but not hard enough to hurt my knuckles.
Wait.
Footsteps from the other side.
Calm.
You’ve got this.
It’s all good.
The front door opened revealing her dad stood there.
“Ah, you were summoned as well then,” he said as he stepped to one side to let me in.
He must know.
Does he?
“Yes,” I said - too scared to give anything away on the off-chance he doesn’t yet know. Tonight could be the night she tells them; pregnant and keeping it.
I smiled.
A good day.
My mind can’t help but wonder to thoughts of being a dad again. Since finding out I’m to be a dad, I’ve often drifted into a fantasy world, despite my best efforts to think of other things and keep my mind from it until I know what she wants to do - after all, can’t force her to keep it if she doesn’t want it.
Can I?
I’m going to be the best dad. Do all the things fathers should do. Do all the things my own father didn’t do with me when I was growing up. Show him how it’s supposed to be done. Show him how to be a real dad.
“Take a seat,” her father said, as he crossed the lounge to where her mum was nervously sitting. She gave me a little wave ‘hello’ and I waved back.
Why is everyone treading on egg-shells?
They must know.
She has made a decision and wants to tell us all together.
They definitely know. They’ve changed to how they normally are. Not as bubbly. Even her dad - normally relaxed or keeping busy doing other things whilst half-listening to conversations.... even he seems to be tense.
“Jessica coming down?” I said.
“She’s just in the bathroom, be right out I’m sure....” said her mum.
I sat down in one of the lounge’s many spare seats. Honestly, never seen so many places to sit in a lounge.
Silence.
Well, this is weird. I wonder, am I supposed to say something? Perhaps apologise for knocking up their daughter?
“So.....” I started.
“Hi, Darren....” said Jessica, as she walked into the room.
Phew.
Hopefully it will be a little less awkward now.
I stood up, and kissed her on the cheek, “Shall we go upstairs?”
“Please, take a seat....”
Fuck me, what is this - a job interview?
I sat down.
Good dog.
I slid over in my seat so Jessica could sit with me but she passed right past me and stood by the fireplace - her back to everyone in the room.
I looked over to her parents and they were both looking at Jessica - waiting for a reaction.
What the fuck is this?
I feel like I’ve entered the Twilight Zone.
“Jess -” she didn’t answer me.
“I’ve been thinking about the baby...” she said, when she finally turned around.
Our baby.
“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.”
Fuck me, less of the melodrama...
“Weighing up the good and bad of the situation....”
“We can make this work,” I whispered - giving her a wink of encouragement.
Her dad shot me a look.
“I don’t feel ready for a baby. I want to live my life....”
I feel myself sink back in the chair. A crushing blow. It feels as though my heart has exploded in my chest. A little piece of me - dead.
Great - now I’m being melodramatic...
Her mother is crying, quietly.
Her dad stood up and walked over to her - I can’t tell from his facial expression whether he is happy or sad, “You don’t need to do this. You still have time to think about it....”
“I’ve thought about it dad, I’m sorry.”
I feel like I’m not even here.
Just a nobody sat on the outside looking in.
She turned to me, “I’m sorry,” she said.
Oh, I am here.
I couldn’t think of anything to say. I don’t accept her apology. I don’t. She wants to kill my baby. She wants to kill my son.
Or daughter?
I’d want a son.
Not that it matters.
She’s killing it.
She’s killing me.
Definitely killing us.
“I think we need to take a break,” she said.
Another crushing blow.
“No,” I said, “I don’t agree....”
I’m not letting her kill my child and our relationship. I won’t allow it. I won’t.
“I’m sorry but this can wait,” her dad said, “you’re upsetting your mother - we need to finish talking about the pregnancy....”
I shot her dad a look but he glared at me until I backed down.
Fuck him.
I’m losing everything.
He’s losing nothing. This isn’t his child. It’s my child. It’s my child and my girlfriend and I’m on the verge of losing everything. I don’t want to lose everything. I don’t want to lose any of it. Ignore him.
“Jessica, please.... can we just go somewhere and talk?” I begged.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this...” she said as she ran from the room, tears starting to roll down her cheeks.
I went to go after her but her dad blocked my path, “I think you’d best go. She’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
There was no sense arguing with him. Not yet. He has a look in his eye. Back down.
Maybe she’ll talk on the phone.
Whatever.
Tonight is not the end of us.
I won’t allow it....
5.
On the drive home, my mind races faster than the engine of my little car. Who the fuck does she think she is? And her father - who the fuck does he think he is?
It’s not his baby.
It’s my baby.
It’s our baby.
What we do or don’t decide, with our child, is none of his fucking business.
Fuck him.
To Hell and back.
Calm down.
No.
YES.
He was on your side, sort of.
It didn’t sound like he wanted Jessica to abort the baby either. It sounded as though both her mum and dad wanted her to keep it. Her dad just wasn’t fussed about her keeping me.
Well, touch.
We’re a package.
We aren’t over.
We aren’t finished.
I’m not going anywhere.
I need to talk to her.
Properly.
Just the two of us. Fix us and then fix the baby situation. If I can talk to her, just her and me... I’m sure I can make her see it’s a good idea to go ahead with it.
Ahead with it and ahead with us.
I’m sure I can.
If it was just me and her....
Just the two of us.
Well....
The three of us.
I pulled my car over, to the side of the road, and reached for my mobile phone - which had previously been sliding around on the passenger seat.
No messages.
Not that I expected any.
I didn’t grab it for that reason; I selected contacts from the phone’s menu system and scrolled through to Jessica’s name. The green button to call...
Ringing.
Come on, Jess, pick it up.
Ringing.
Come on...
Ringing.
Jess....
Dead.
SHIT!
&nbs
p; A dull sounding woman offered to take my message.
“Jess, please.... don’t do this. Please. Just call me. Let’s talk - just the two of us... please. You owe me that much. Surely.” I paused for a moment whilst I thought of something to say which would ensure she’d call me. Shit. Can’t think of anything.... “You can call me anytime.... Please.”
Red button to hang up.
Green button to call...
Ringing.
Ringing.
Ringing.
Ringing.
The very same dull woman - offering to take my message.
Red button.
Green button.
Redial.
Ringing.
Ringing.
Voice-mail.
Quicker this time. She hung up on me? Accident? On purpose?
Green button.
Straight to voice-mail.
Screening my calls. Ignoring me. Hating me?
I should turn the car around. I should drive back to her house and climb to her bedroom window. Make her let me in... and then lock the bedroom door to keep her mum and dad out; lock them out so we don’t get disturbed.
I threw my mobile phone to the passenger seat and embraced the steering wheel, ready to spin the car around. No. Don’t. That won’t solve anything. Just go home and keeping calling her mobile.
She can’t ignore me for......
A text message.
A text message?
A text message!
I picked my phone up again and loaded the new message.
Jessica!
My heart skipped a beat. She needs to see me. She wants me to go back. I couldn’t help but smile. She’s obviously had time to think.
She’s had time to think and time to calm down.
Maybe, even, time to change her mind about the abortion?
I threw the mobile phone back onto the passenger seat and performed a u-turn.
This is it.
This is the one.
She is the one.
* * * * *
Stood at the front door again, waiting for Jessica to answer my excited knocking.
Okay, don’t get ahead of yourself.
Don’t get ahead of yourself.
Don’t get ahead of yourself.
Don’t get ahead of yourself.
Don’t...
Don’t blow this. Don’t come all this way and blow it.
The door opened.
Oh, fuck.
“Come in,” said her dad.
I sheepishly thanked him and stepped into the house. He smiled and closed the door...
End of part two
EPILOGUE
My free hand clenches the hood tightly as more tears roll down my cheeks.
I’m not crying though.
Well, not properly.
I’m angry.
I’m frustrated.
I’m scared.
I’m confused.
I’m...
I’m...
What am I?
I don’t know.
I don’t know what I am.
There’s so many emotions flowing through my body, I can’t hardly make any of them out properly...
How could he do this to me?
How?
I thought - I thought he loved me.
I felt as though he was part of me.
I felt as though I was part of him.
He doesn’t care about me.
I know that now.
Did he ever care?
Did he ever want me?
Did he ever want me or was it just the baby he wanted?
I feel betrayed.
I love him and he does this to me.
No... I loved him.
Now, now I hate him.
Hate.
How could he do this to me?
As soon as I pulled the mask from his face, he ran from the room - after standing there for a couple of minutes. I’m not sure how long ago that was but it seems like hours.
I screamed again - hoping to get his attention. Hoping to get him to come downstairs and talk to me. Talk to me and make me understand...
I don’t understand.
I’ll never understand...
I heard footsteps from above. My scream disturbed him. Another scream. No words in particular - just noise. A scream as loud as I can.
The footsteps walked across the floorboards above my head; he’s coming back.
Another scream.
Get him down here.
The door, at the top of the stairs, opened.
“Ssh...” he said.
“Please... I want to talk.... please....”
There was a pause as he decided what to do.
“Please.... daddy.... I just want to talk, dad.”
His footsteps, slowly, started to come down the stairs.
TO BE CONTINUED
NINE MONTHS
BOOK TWO
PART THREE
1.
As I sit in the hospital corridor, I feel numb. It’s as though my brain has completely shut down all capabilities of allowing emotions to flow through my body. Given the circumstances, it’s probably for the best.
“I’m sorry, Mr Jenkins,” said the doctor as he looked down at me.
I smiled at him, to show I acknowledged him at least. A fake smile to show I understood what he said. I didn’t smile because of the news he gave me. I’d never smile at that. Part of me feels I’ll never smile, properly, again.
“Fiona?” I asked.
“Sleeping... you can go and see her now,” said the doctor.
At least Fiona is okay. She lost a lot of blood but, she’s okay. Just a couple more minutes, alone, and then I’ll go and sit with her until she wakes up. I want to be the one to tell her. I don’t want them saying anything.
“In a minute, I said.”
The doctor nodded.
“I want to break it to her,” I said.
Again, the doctor nodded - probably thankful he doesn’t have to break the news twice. No one ever thinks about how they feel - the professionals who have to give the bad news. They just think about themselves. It must be horrible.
It was certainly horrible to hear it.
“Again, I’m very sorry - if there’s anything we can do - please let us know...”
“Can I see him?” I asked. I’m not sure why.
The doctor didn’t respond straight away but when he did it was with a nod and a ‘of course’. He left me alone, as he went to get things ready.
Alone.
The corridor is filled with people going back and forth - visitors, doctors, nurses, patients.... yet I feel alone. At least I’m feeling something, I thought.
If this had to happen - I wish it could have happened at the start. To come this far, with Fiona.... to come this far.... attend the classes..... read the books.... prepare the nursery.... to come this far..... So close. My left eye wells up.
We should be a family now.
