Authors: Matthew Turner
Tags: #coming of age, #love story, #literary fiction, #contemporary romance, #new adult, #mature young adult
“
Yeah,
”
I sigh.
“
Sorry. Sorry. I
’
m being a shit
friend.
”
He takes a deep breath.
“
Just feeling sorry for
myself. Come on, tell me about you and the baby and all that
crap.
”
“
We
’
re
fine.
”
“
Bullshit.
”
He snorts, clearing his
throat.
“
You seem to forget I
’
ve known you longer
than that girl has.
”
“
Don
’
t remind me,
”
I say, looking up to
the ceiling with various black streaks smudged across it.
“
I
don
’
t know
…
I won
’
t lie,
it
’
s been an intense few weeks. To be honest,
I
’
ve been fucking useless throughout the whole
thing.
”
“
Oh, come on.
You
’
ve
—“
“
I have. Trust me.
I
’
ve let her down.
”
“
Don
’
t talk nonsense,
brother. You
’
re handling this far
better than most guys our age would. Can you imagine
me?
”
“
No, but I also
can
’
t imagine you spending enough time with a girl to get
her pregnant.
”
“
That
’
s certainly the
plan.
”
“
You aside, I sense most would
have been better equipped than me.
”
“
Stop this nonsensical bullshit.
You
’
re a good guy, one of the best. And
you
’
ll be a top dad.
B
knows it. I know it. Deep down, I
sense you know it, too. You just need to get out of your head and
stop worrying about whether you are or aren
’
t
letting
B
down. I love you like a brother, brother, but your love for
that girl will one day give you a heart attack.
”
I
laugh, sitting down on the drummer
’
s
stool.
“
It
’
s true. It freaks me
out how you place so much trust in someone, but I suppose you found
one of the good ones. She
’
s a good girl, but
she isn
’
t perfect.
”
“
I know she
isn
’
t.
“
“
Do you?
”
He smiles, nudging me
again.
“
The sad thing is, my dad probably thought
she
was perfect at some point. Goes to show how stupid we can
be, doesn
’
t it?
”
“
Joey
—“
“
B
is
one of the good ones, though. In fact, she
’
s so good, she
wouldn
’
t want you to beat yourself up over utter
nonsense, either.
”
“
I know, I
know.
“
“
Then stop it.
You
’
re doing alright. You
’
re doing
alright.
”
“
But
…”
“
But what?
”
“
The next
scan
’
s coming up.
”
“
So? Does it matter if
it
’
s a boy or girl?
”
“
It isn
’
t
that.
”
I push off with my feet and spin in the stool.
“
What if I
panic like last time? What if I just sit there again,
useless?
”
“
You won
’
t.
”
“
What if I
do?
”
“
You won
’
t.
”
He stops my spinning
with his knee.
“
You
’
ll be fine. You
’
ll hold her hand and
kiss her. You
’
ll write her a
letter because you
’
re a complete and
utter sap. You
’
ll be daddy-cool,
because behind me, you
’
re the coolest guy
in town.
”
I
laugh under my breath and rub my hands down my faded red
chinos.
“
Maybe.
”
“
No maybe, brother.
You
’
ve got this. You
’
ll step up like you
did on stage. King of the bass. The bass-man. Lord bass of bass
town.
”
“
Well, if
fatherhood
’
s as easy as playing
guitar, I should have it covered.
”
He
nods, looking above and beyond me.
“
It was an amazing gig,
wasn
’
t it?
”
“
Yeah.
”
“
The crowd, the noise, the
weather, and the way everyone danced like they
didn
’
t give a shit. The microphone was part of me. I could
touch and taste the sound
’
s vibrations, and
the damn-good-vibes flowing through the air.
”
He sighs.
“
I miss it
already.
”
Swivelling on the stool again, I
stare at my beaten brown Derby shoes.
“
It
’
s good that
it
’
s getting easier,
”
he says.
“
And you know I said
you
’
re one of the best guys I know? I lied.
You
’
re the best by a distance. Seriously, I
don
’
t think you appreciate how brave you are. So many guys
would run a mile. I would, and I hate myself for that, because
that
’
s what she did. She ran. She left. I
don
’
t like to think I
’
m like her,
but
…”
“
You
’
re not, Joe. I think
you
’
d surprise yourself, because if what I am right now is
brave, you
’
re more than cut out
for it.
”
He
smiles that barely visible smile and places his left hand on my
shoulder.
“
Maybe. Better not impregnate anyone just in case,
huh?
”
“
That
’
s probably a
good idea.
”
He
laughs and dashes to the other side of the band room.
“
Jesus, can
you imagine what my child would be like?
”
“
I
’
d rather not, if
it
’
s
okay.
”
“
I
’
d definitely
procreate a better son than you.
”
“
Shut up.
”
“
You know it
’
s
true.
”
“
Shut up.
”
He
laughs louder, picking up his guitar and holding it above his
head.
“
I suppose I
’
ll have to give in
one day, won
’
t I? It
’
s why
we
’
re here in the first place, to learn and pass on our
awesomeness. How could I possibly neglect the future of our human
race its finest specimen yet?
”
“
I have no
words.
”
“
A little boy with my good
looks, wit, charm, and overall demeanour
…
combined with
Harriet
’
s incredible figure, hair, and
intellect
…”
He thrusts the guitar into my arms.
“
Are you kidding me?
That kid will rule the world.
”
“
Or destroy
it,
”
I
say.
Smirk and all, he places his arms behind his neck.
“
One day,
brother. If I fail to rule the world, he will. I
’
ll make
sure of it.
”
AUGUST 18
TH
- A BUSY BABY SHOP:
As
I survey the near-endless row of baby cots, I imagine The Shawshank
Redemption and Morgan Freeman
’
s husky voice.
Watching an entire movie is an arduous task, but when it features
Morgan Freeman, as so many do, it
’
s less torturous. I
often imagine Morgan narrating the books I read, his voice an
improvement over my own.
“
What are you
thinking?
”
B
asks, approaching
from behind and interlocking our arms.
“
You look deep in
thought.
”
“
The Shawshank
Redemption,
”
I say, looking at a lime green cot.
“
Come again?
”
“
They
’
re like mini
prison cells, aren
’
t
they?
”
I say, pointing to the beige cot in front.
“
Row after
row of little baby cells, ready to house little baby
fugitives.
”
“
I see,
”
she says, stepping
towards them and running her hand along a wooden railing.
“
When you
look at my baby
’
s future bed, you
think about prison?
”
Spinning on the spot, she leans back and
smiles.
“
Is that what you
’
re
saying?
”
I
laugh, stepping in and wrapping my arms around her waist.
“
A little,
yes.
”
“
You are
useless.
”
She laughs and places her head into my chest, me resting my
chin on her and inhaling her hair
’
s fresh aroma of
coconut shampoo and peach conditioner.
“
Don
’
t you think
it
’
s odd how they make them like this?
”
I say, peering over
her shoulder.
“
Imagine you
’
re a baby for a
second. One moment, you
’
re rocked to sleep
in your mother
’
s arms, the next you
wake up at the bottom of a bottomless pit.
”