Authors: Matthew Turner
Tags: #coming of age, #love story, #literary fiction, #contemporary romance, #new adult, #mature young adult
“
I need to have a reason for
feeling good?
”
“
Considering a couple of weeks
ago you were verging on suicide.
”
“
I was not
suicidal.
”
“
I was
worried.
”
“
No, you
weren
’
t.
”
“
I was. I thought about calling
The Samaritans or writing a letter to the local
paper.
”
“
You going to help me choose
names or not?
”
“
Hell, no. What do I care if you
call your kid Bob or Darren?
”
“
Two terrible
names.
”
Tapping his finger on the table, he coughed.
“
Bob Dylan,
brother. You know, the guy you
’
re half named
after.
”
“
Oh,
”
I considered, flicking back to the
Bs.
“
Anyway, enough names. Come on,
what happened to make you happy?
”
“
Nothing.
”
I sighed.
“
It
’
s not
like there was a single moment or anything. Things are just easier.
I
’
m not worrying as much. I
’
m actually
excited to meet him, and each new day brings
the
day
closer.
”
“
Yeah? That
’
s
it?
”
“
Yeah.
”
I closed the book and placed it on
the table.
“
Anyhow, why are you so bothered? You hate all this baby
nonsense.
”
“
It isn
’
t
nonsense.
”
“
That
’
s what you said
last week.
”
“
When?
”
“
Right here,
”
I said, pointing to
the table next to us.
“
Regardless, it
isn
’
t nonsense. I mean, it is to me, but I suppose you
have to enjoy it to an extent. Or, at least, pretend to. But I do
care about you, and my job as your best friend - and
let
’
s face it, only friend - is to take an interest in
your life.
”
“
But not my
baby
’
s?
”
“
Exactly.
”
Rolling my eyes again, I picked up the book and tossed it
in his direction.
“
It
’
s just a bunch of little stuff,
that
’
s all. Like not freaking out when I see a baby on the
train; reading books and focusing long enough to actually
understand what they say; and sleeping at night, and when I do, not
dreaming about eating my damn offspring.
”
“
That
’
s
good.
”
I nod.
“
I
don
’
t know why or what
’
s happened. Maybe
this is how it is for fathers. All I know is
this
…
I feel much lighter at the moment.
”
“
Yeah?
”
“
I feel human
again.
”
“
You look human
again,
”
he said, lifting his pipe from his blue blazer
pocket.
“
And most important of all, this is exactly what I said
would happen, which means once again I
’
m
right.
”
Chewing the end of the pipe, he smiled.
“
That
’
s reason to
celebrate.
”
“
You
’
re an
idiot.
”
“
A correct
idiot,
”
he said.
“
I suppose
B
can now forget about protecting you
and become a hormonal, crazy person. Fun times.
”
“
Yeah, fun times
indeed,
”
I
said.
Spinning my glass in my palm, I watch her study the menu,
screwing up her nose and tilting her head from one side to the
other.
“
I think I
’
ll have the soup.
What do you think?
”
she says, not looking at me.
“
What do I think about you
eating soup?
”
“
Yes. Good
choice?
”
“
Sure. I mean,
it
’
s no haloumi and hummus, but each to their
own.
”
She
shakes her head.
“
You truly are useless.
”
“
In a good way,
right?
”
She
places her menu on the table and falls back into her chair.
“
Where
’
s Joseph? It
’
s not
like I
’
m pregnant and starving. He
couldn
’
t be on time just this once?
”
“
We can order without
him.
”
“
Oh no, I
wouldn
’
t dream about it,
”
she says, rubbing her
bulging tummy and pursing her lips.
“
How are you
feeling?
”
I
ask.
“
You tired? We can go home if you like.
”
“
I
’
m
fine,
”
she says, running her fingers through her fringe.
“
Just
hungry.
”
“
Should I order? Honestly, we
don
’
t have to wait for Joey.
”
“
I
’
m fine.
Let
’
s wait,
”
she says, her voice quiet.
“
You sure?
”
She nods.
“
You
’
re getting quite the
appetite, aren
’
t
you?
”
“
I know. At this rate I may
develop an arse.
”
“
It
’
s a shame you
can
’
t go for a run and work it all off.
”
“
Don
’
t remind me. I miss
it so much. I hate feeling so heavy and tired.
”
“
I know, but
I
’
m sure you
’
d be okay if you
took it easy.
”
“
That
’
s not how I
run. You know I like to go fast.
”
“
I know you do. Still, I do
quite like the idea of you having a big arse. And big, fatty arms.
And chunky thighs.
”
“
Stop it,
”
she says.
“
I
don
’
t want to be fat all over. I feel heavy enough as it
is, and the bigger I get the harder it is to run at
all.
”
“
At this rate, you may become a
mountain of a girl.
”
“
You, mister, are
terrible.
”
She glares at me, but with a soft smile.
Although not quite how we used to be, this feels normal.
Our chatter
’
s back, as is the
comfortable silence that lingers between us. I
don
’
t feel like a stranger around her anymore, and
although we may never retrieve what we had, this is fine, because
we
’
ll evolve into who we need to be.
Maybe
Joey
’
s right, that clinging on is why I hurt for so long;
why I lost myself in confusion and fear. I clung on to something
that was already gone, past tense slipping past us each day, for
it
’
s who we are today, and who we become tomorrow that
counts. Not much changes, because we are who we are, only snippets
of everyday shifts in life.
Like last week, as we searched a quaint odds-and-ends shop.
Something we
’
ve done countless
times before, but rather than head to the railings of clothes and
boxes of dusty vinyl, we slipped into the corner of baby-whatevers.
With a shelf full of baby
’
s first spoons,
forks, and tiny glass bottles; frames of varying types, some made
of wood, others from glass; and tiny hats and doodads; we fawned
over everything, not wanting to buy for the sake of our son, but to
fulfil our own cute fancies.
Picking up a small white vest with the words
‘
I Love My
Mummy and Daddy
’
across the chest, I slid my
fingertips over its smooth fabric. I flipped it over,
reading
‘
Baby
‘
Your Name Here
’’
written at the
top, and instead of laughing and condemning such nonsense, I turned
to
B
and smiled.
“
Have you seen
this?
”
I said, handing it to her.
“
That
’
s too damn
cute.
”
“
Right? What
’
s
happened to us?
”
“
Us? What
’
s
happened to you?
”
Stepping into her, I wrapped my hands around her bigger
than usual waist.
“
Is this what it
’
s like from here on
in? I
’
ll forever want to buy useless crap, all so I
can dress our son in adorable tat.
”
“
I do believe
that
’
s what happens,
”
she said.
“
Should we get
it?
”
“
Really?
”
she asked, eyeing me
with an air of suspicion.
“
Why not? He has to come home
from the hospital in something, right?
”
“
This is
true.
”
Taking the vest back, I stared at the line of text decked
across the shoulder.
“
Baby Ashford,
”
I said.
“
Just think, soon we
’
ll be a family of
Ashfords.
”
She
stepped into me and held my hand.
“
Come on. We need to
get going.
”
“
Where to?
”