Marian Keyes - Watermelon (41 page)

"How are you, Claire?" he asked politely.

"Fine," I said shortly, wishing he'd get on with it.

"Claire," he said, with great weight, "I have something to tell you."

"Well, go ahead," I cordially invited.

"Claire, I hope you don't mind, but I've met someone else."

"Oh," I said. "Well, what do you want me to say? Congratulations?"

"No," he said. "There's no need for that. But I thought I had better tell you, seeing as you made such a fuss the last time."

With monumental self-control I didn't hang up the phone.

"Thank you, James," I managed. "That's very thoughtful of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go."

"But don't you want to know all about her?" he said quickly.

"No," I said.

"Don't you mind?" he asked anxiously.

"No." I laughed.

"She's lots younger than you," he said nastily. "She's only twenty-two."

"That's nice," I said mildly.

"Her name's Rita," he said.

"Nice name," I commented.

"She's an actuary," he said, sounding a bit desperate.

"How lovely," I exclaimed. "You must have so much in common!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he shouted.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I protested.

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"Why are you acting as if you don't give a damn?" he thundered. "I've just told you I've got a new girlfriend!"

"I suppose I must be acting like I don't give a damn because I actually don't give a damn," was the only thing I could come up with.

"Oh, and James," I continued.

"Yes?" he said hopefully.

"Kate is fine," I said. "I'm sure it's just an oversight that you forgot to ask. Now I'm going. Great news! I'm delighted for you. Long may it last and all that. Good-bye." I slammed the phone down.

How pathetic can you get? What did he expect me to do? Burst into tears and beg him to take me back? Hadn't he learned anything?

I went back out to the garden. Anna had come to and was sitting up playing with Kate. She was so beautiful. Kate, that is. Although Anna was lovely too, no doubt about it. But Kate, she was more lovely. She had started to develop a little personality all of her own. When you spoke to her she made gurgly noises and laughed sometimes and made eye contact. It was almost like having a conversation with her.

Although she wasn't doing too much laughing at that moment. Her fat little face was bright pink and shiny under her yellow sunhat and she looked as if she didn't want to do any more sunbathing. "I'm hot and bored," her look said. "And I've had quite enough of talking to this flake."

"Who was it?" asked Anna.

"James," I spat, barely able to say his name.

"What's up with him?" asked Anna.

"He has a new girlfriend," I said curtly.

"Do you mind?" she asked anxiously.

"Of course I don't mind," I said, outraged.

"So why are you acting so cross?" asked Anna.

"Because he disturbed my sunbathing--made me get up off the lounger and walk--just to tell me that. I can't believe it! I really can't. What an as- shole."

Never mind James. I was worried about Kate.

"You don't think she's burning, do you?" I asked Anna anxiously. "Maybe I should have used a higher factor."

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"Maybe," agreed Anna doubtfully, "but I don't think they make a higher one."

It was true. I had smothered Kate with a sunblock that had the highest protection factor known to man. Was I being an overprotective mother? I couldn't help myself. I worried about her. I mean, after all, she was a baby and her skin was very delicate. I didn't want to take any chances.

"I think I'll bring her inside," I said, "just to be on the safe side."

"Relax," advised Anna.

"No, I'd better take her in," I said. "She might burn."

"Oh, don't go," pleaded Anna. "I'll have no one to talk to."

Just then we heard voices in the kitchen. It sounded as if a small commo- tion had broken out.

"Helen's home," I said to Anna, "you can play with her."

"Oh no," groaned Anna. "She'll be talking about killing herself if she fails and could she stomach having sex with Professor Macauley and asking me all these stupid questions about ancient Greece.

"I mean, what do I know about ancient Greece?" she asked, sounding wronged and very put out. "Just because I worked in a bar for six weeks in Santorini she thinks I should know about Zeus and all that crowd."

She sighed and began to gather her things. "I think I'll come in with you."

But before she could make her escape, Helen burst into the garden. She was wearing a little denim skirt and a T-shirt. Her hair was wound up on top of her head and as usual she looked beautiful.

She stopped when she saw us and stared long and hard.

"Look at them," she said bitterly. "Just look at them, the lucky bitches."

"Hi, Helen," said Anna warily.

"Lazy cows, just lying around doing nothing while I have to work my ass off studying," she continued resentfully.

I shaded my eyes with my hand to look at Helen, at her furious little face. And it was only then that I realized that Helen was not alone.

She had brought a guest.

A male guest.

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A tall, handsome male guest.

A gorgeous, blue-eyed, dark-haired, square-jawed, tall, handsome, male guest who was wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt.

One who'd gotten a tan since I last saw him.

I hadn't thought that he could get any better-looking, but it would appear that I was wrong.

The bastard!

"Hi, Adam," I said, wanting to burst into tears.

"Hi, Claire," he said politely.

I held my breath and waited for him to go back into the house. Then I realized, with horror, that he wasn't going.

"Oh shit," I thought frantically, "he's coming over."

Helen and Adam made their way over to the little oasis of chaise lounges, diet Coke, suntan lotion, women's magazines and potato chips that Anna, Kate and I had created. Adam stood for a moment, and loomed over Anna and me, prostrate on the loungers. He didn't seem too relaxed. His usual, easy charm was missing. He looked awkward, a bit unfriendly.

My heart pounded. I felt at such a terrible disadvantage. Jesus, why couldn't Helen have given me some warning that she was bringing the beautiful Adam here. I could have put on some makeup and a nice bikini. Because when I said earlier that I was lying around the garden wearing cut-off shorts and little tops, I wasn't for a moment implying that I looked like one of those sexy babes from Baywatch. God no! The shorts were ancient and made from really nasty brushed denim and were cut in a really weird way. They were totally unflattering and made my butt look really wide. And there was no Lycra left in my bikini top, so it was all droopy.

It was the romance novel versus real life syndrome all over again. Whenever they're caught unawares by their men they just happen to have gotten out of the shower and are covered in fragrant body lotion, their hair is in damp little tendrils which escape from their towel and they look abso- lutely beautiful in a totally innocent and natural way.

Enough to make you puke.

But in real life you can put money on looking at your very, very worst when the man you like/love/fancy arrives unex-

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pectedly. Well, that's always been my experience. You might be a bit luck- ier.

I wish he wouldn't just stand there looking down at me, I thought nervously.

"Adam, you're blocking out the sun," I said, trying to make it sound like a joke. "Why don't you sit down." He sat down. It was quite amazing how a man so big and tall could make sitting down look so graceful. Sorry, I shouldn't have noticed that. I certainly shouldn't have remarked on it.

He smiled over at Anna.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi, Adam," she simpered.

"How are you?" He sounded as if he was really interested.

"Never mind her! What about me?" I nearly shouted.

"I'm fine," said Anna, smiling back shyly.

"Jesus," muttered Helen, giving Anna a "you're so pathetic" look.

Adam and Anna continued to murmur to each other.

Then Helen turned her attention to me.

"Get off that," she ordered, trying to push me off the chair. "I've just taken an exam. I need to lie down."

"That's fine," I said, getting up. "I was just going anyway."

It was important for me to let her know that she hadn't forced me into relinquishing my chair. That I was doing it of my own accord.

Power games.

I was so childish.

"Yes," said Anna hastily, her face like a tomato. "I'm going too."

"Why, where are you going?" demanded Helen.

"Inside," I said.

"Oh great," she said. She was really pissed off. "I've just taken an awful exam and I've got to learn the entire anthropology course this evening and you won't even stay for five minutes to chat and help me unwind."

"But Kate's too hot," I said.

"Go on then," she said gloomily. "Go."

She looked at Adam. "We'll start in ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed.

"What'll we do first?" she asked.

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"What do you want to do?" he replied.

Correct answer. He obviously had a good idea of how to treat Helen.

"I suppose we could do dysfunctional families," said Helen. "Seeing as you know so much about that."

She laughed nastily.

"Helen," said Anna in a shocked voice.

"What?" said Helen, all belligerent. "It's only a joke. Anyway, he does. Don't you?" she demanded of Adam.

"I suppose I do," he said politely.

That was enough. I was going. I picked up Kate and walked across the lawn (lawn! what a joke!) with her. The couple of yards felt like miles and miles. All I could think about was Adam's eyes homing in on my highly unattractive ass in the awful shorts.

I finally reached the safety of the kitchen.

I realized that I had left my magazine in the garden. Well, it could stay there! You wouldn't catch me going anywhere near Adam of my own vo- lition.

Oh dear!

I was very upset. Because, over the past few weeks, I had begun to suspect that maybe Adam hadn't been that attractive at all. That in my recently deserted state, my judgment had been impaired. Perhaps I had been so grateful for the attention from him that I had managed to convince myself that he was gorgeous.

But no. It wasn't true. The bastard was gorgeous. I hadn't imagined it. I hadn't been deluded.

And he looked even nicer with a tan. And his arms were so big and muscley in that T-shirt.

Jesus! It was too much to bear, what with my being celibate for close to five months, not counting that one night with Adam.

Actually, it was a lot longer than that, because James wouldn't touch me with a stick in the last four or five months of my pregnancy.

Anyway, what was Adam's problem? Why was he all cold and unfriendly to me? Surely that was a bit unnecessary? Was he afraid that I was going to attempt to jump on his bones?

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That I wouldn't be able to restrain myself? Did he feel that he had to keep me at bay?

Well, he needn't worry, I thought. He was safe. I wouldn't attempt to come between him and his girlfriend. I wasn't as stupid as I used to be. I recognized a no-win situation when I was looking it in the face.

"Isn't it weird?" I thought as I carried Kate upstairs. "The last time I saw Adam I had just gotten out of his bed. We had been as intimate as two human beings could possibly be. And now we're acting like polite strangers."

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Kate was a lot happier inside. All smiles and gurgles and kicks when I put her into her crib. I held her hot little feet and cycled her legs--she loved that. Well, at least I hoped she loved it, because I enjoyed it im- mensely--when I heard the knock on my bedroom door.

What was going on? No one knocked in our house.

The door opened and Adam loomed into the room. Everything instantly looked much smaller, like a doll's house.

"Oh Lord," I thought, going into shock and abruptly abandoning Kate's little legs. "What does he want?"

Maybe he wasn't able to believe how awful my shorts were and was coming for a second look.

"Claire," he said sheepishly, "can I talk to you for a moment?"

He stood there, so big, so beautiful, an anxious look on his handsome face.

I looked at him and something happened inside me (no! not that!), something wonderful.

My heart lifted and a surge of gladness rushed through me, so strong it nearly knocked me over. I was suddenly filled with hope and gladness and happiness. That elation when you thought all was lost and then you realized that everything was going to be fine.

You know the one I'm talking about. The one that only happens once or twice in a lifetime.

"Yes," I said, "of course."

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He came over and shook Kate's foot and then sat down beside me on the bed. The mattress nearly hit the floor, but never mind that.

"Claire," he said, looking at me beseechingly with his blue, blue eyes, "I'd like to explain about my girlfriend and my baby."

"Oh yes?" I asked, trying to sound brisk and businesslike. As if he wasn't having a very unsettling effect on me.

His bigness and nearness were a bit overwhelming. As I said before, the first thing I had ever noticed about him was his manliness. And now it was as if he had doused the bed with testosterone. Or as if he'd walked around the room with one of those incense dispenser things that the priests wave around at Benediction, except, instead of incense, his dispenser thing was filled with Essence of Man.

I couldn't help it if I thought about having sex with him. I was only hu- man. If you prick me do I not bleed? If you stick a gorgeous man under my nose, do I not want to rip the clothes off him?

I mean, I don't make the rules.

It was imperative that I got myself under control. Adam was not here to offer me his body. He was here, well, at least I hoped he was here, so we could untangle whatever was happening in our lives when we met each other. Then maybe we could be friends.

I realized that I'd really, really like to be friends with him. He was so interesting and entertaining and sweet. He was a lovely person to be around. Special, you know. Whoever this girlfriend of his was, she was one lucky woman.

"Claire," he said, "thank you for giving me this chance to explain."

"Oh God," I said, "get a grip. Stop sounding so humble."

"It's just...I don't know." He faltered. "It must have been a bit of a, a...surprise when Helen told you about me having a child."

"Yes, it was a...surprise," I said with a little smile.

"Okay, okay," he said. He ran his hand through his lovely, silky hair. "Maybe surprise is the wrong word."

"Maybe," I agreed. But in a nice way.

"I should have told you," he said.

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"Why?" I asked. "It's not as if we were going out with each other or anything."

He stared at me. He looked sad.

"Well, even if we weren't going out with each other, I still felt that I should have told you," he said. "But I was afraid that I'd frighten you off," he continued.

"That was hardly likely, considering my circumstances," I replied.

"But I thought you'd wonder what kind of guy I was that I wasn't al- lowed to see my own child. I wanted to tell you. I nearly did try to tell you lots of times but I always lost my nerve at the last minute."

"And why are you telling me now?" I asked.

"Because it's all fixed," he said.

"Well, wasn't it a stroke of luck that Helen invited you here today and that I just happened in?" I asked a bit tartly.

"Claire," he said anxiously. "If you hadn't been here today I would have called you. I thought you'd gone back to London ages ago. Otherwise I would have been in touch sooner.

"No, honestly," he assured me when he saw the skeptical look that I gave him.

"All right," I conceded. "I believe you.

"So tell me all about it," I suggested, forcing myself to speak gently. Trying to keep the urgent curiosity out of my voice.

I always enjoy a good human interest story, even if I happen to be peri- pherally involved.

A series of peculiar, gurgly type noises came from Kate's crib. Oh please don't cry, darling, I hoped desperately. Not right now. I really want to hear this. It's important to Mummy.

And would you believe it? She quieted down again. She'd obviously inherited something good from her father.

But sshush now, ladies and gentlemen, Adam was going to explain all.

"I had gone out with Hannah for--" he began.

"Who's Hannah?" I interrupted.

It's always good to sort out who all the main characters are before the story begins.

"The mother of my child," he explained.

"Fine," I said, "go on."

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"I had gone out with her for a long time, about two years," he said.

"Yes." I nodded.

"And it ended," he said.

"Oh," I said, "that sounds a bit abrupt."

"No, no, it wasn't," he said. "What I mean is neither of us ran off with someone else or anything like that. It had just run its course."

"Yes." I nodded.

"So we split up," he said.

"Yes," I said. "I'm with you so far."

"But I was still really fond of her," he said. "I missed her. But every time we saw each other it was awful. She'd cry and ask why hadn't it worked and could we try again and that kind of thing."

"Yes," I said. This was all very familiar.

"And we always ended up going to bed together," he said.

He looked a bit embarrassed when he said this. I didn't know why. I mean, everyone does that when they split up with someone they once loved and still do in a way, don't they?

It's the rule.

You split up, you say you'll still be friends, you meet up a week later for your first "friendly" drink, you get drunk, you say how weird it is not being able to touch each other even in an affectionate way, you kiss each other, you stop and say "No, we mustn't," you kiss again, you stop and say "This is ridiculous," you kiss again, you say "Maybe just this once; it's only be- cause I miss you so much." You get the bus back to his place, you practically have sex in someone's backyard when you get off the bus, you get to his house, everything is so familiar and you cry because you know you don't belong there anymore. You have sex, you cry again, you go to sleep, you have horrible dreams where one minute you're back together and the next you've split up again and you wake up the next morning wishing you were dead.

Everyone knows that rule. It's one of the first principles governing the end of a love affair. Adam must be very naive if he thought it's only ever happened to him.

"Anyway, Hannah got pregnant," he said.

"Oh dear," I said sympathetically.

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He looked at me a bit sharply. He thought that I was being sarcastic. I wasn't, honestly.

"We talked about it and we considered everything. She wanted to get married. I didn't want to, because I thought it was a stupid thing to do. I didn't see the point in getting married to give the child a stable home if its parents didn't love each other anymore."

"Mmmmm," I said noncommitally. I mean, technically he was right. But as one woman to another, my heart went out to the misfortunate Hannah.

"I suppose you think I'm a total bastard," he said, looking a bit wretched.

"No, not really," I said. "I agree with you that getting married achieves nothing in that situation."

"You do think I'm a bastard," he said, "I can tell."

"I don't," I said, exasperated. "Get on with it, would you."

There was far too much developing of the characters and not enough action in this story for my taste.

"We thought about her having the baby and putting it up for adoption but Hannah didn't want to do that. Then we talked about her having an abortion."

I flashed a quick look at Kate. I couldn't help it. I just felt so incredibly lucky that I hadn't had to consider an abortion when I found out that I was pregnant.

"Anyway, an abortion seemed like some sort of solution," he said wearily. "But neither of us wanted to do that."

"I'm sure you didn't," I murmured, trying to sound like I believed him.

But I wondered to myself "Is this guy for real?"

I'd always suspected that most men thought that abortion was almost a sacrament, a gift generously bestowed on them by Heaven to make their lives uncomplicated and pleasant. To deal with nasty little nuisances, like children, which might interfere with their life of gay bachelorhood.

Of course there's always the crowd who get all sanctimonious and self- righteous and say that abortion is murder. You'll find that the men who are quite happy to say this are the ones whose girlfriends aren't pregnant. But the minute their women have an "accident" and are with child, it's usually a very different story.

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They're often the very first to tentatively suggest that maybe now is not the right time to have a baby and that there's nothing to an abortion, really. That it's easier than having a tooth out. And that in most cases you don't even have to stay overnight. And there's no need to feel guilty because, at this stage, it's not even a child, just a few cells. And that they'll come with her and pick her up afterward. And maybe in a few weeks they'll go away for a weekend to help her get over it. And then, before the woman knows what's happening to her, she's lying on an operating table in an expensive "clinic" wearing a paper gown that opens all the way up the back, with a needle stuck in her arm, counting down from ten.

Sorry, sorry! I got a little bit distracted there.

As you may have noticed, this is something I feel very strongly about, but maybe now isn't the time to go into it. Suffice it to say that Adam had me convinced that he wasn't one of those men.

But just one more thing and then I'll shut up. Show me a man who's pregnant, penniless and partnerless and then invite him to stand on the soapbox and tell me that he still thinks abortion is completely wrong. Hah!

Anyway, back to Adam the feminist.

He was still explaining, all anxious and earnest, staring at me with a be- seeching look in his beautiful eyes.

D'you know, he had the most gorgeous eyelashes? Really thick and long and...sorry.

Ahem.

"I said that if she had the baby, I'd do whatever I could to help," he said. "I promised I'd support her financially and that I was happy for the baby to live with me. Or with her. Or we could share. Whatever Hannah wanted. I wanted her to have the baby but I knew that at the end of the day the decision was hers. I couldn't decide for her and I didn't want to put pressure on her to have the child because I knew she was scared. She was only twenty-two."

"Oh dear," I said, "that's very sad."

"It was," he said miserably. "It was really awful."

"And then what happened?" I asked.

"Her parents got involved. And when they found out that we'd discussed her having an abortion, they went crazy. Fair

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enough, I suppose. And they took her away, from my supposedly evil in- fluence, to their house in Sligo."

"Jesus," I said, imagining Hannah being locked up in a tower in the middle of nowhere like the princess with the long golden hair. "How awful. It's barbaric! Like something out of the dark ages."

"No," he said quickly, eager to put me right, "it wasn't that bad. They meant well. They only wanted the best for the baby. After all, it was their grandchild and they wanted to make sure that Hannah didn't have an abortion. But then they wouldn't let me talk to Hannah any time that I called. And they said that when the baby was born, I was to leave them alone."

"Are you serious?" I said, outraged. "I've never heard anything like that. Well, I suppose I have. But only about uncivilized, crazy people. And then what happened? Didn't this Hannah have any mind of her own? Didn't she tell these parents of hers where to get off? I mean, she was a grown woman!"

"Well," he said awkwardly, "then Hannah didn't want to see me either. I went to Sligo and she spoke to me and told me that she didn't want any- thing further to do with me and she didn't want me interfering when the baby was born."

"But why?" I cried.

"I don't really know," he said unhappily. "I think she felt very bitter that I wouldn't marry her. And she was angry with me for getting her pregnant. Her parents had convinced her that I must be the son of Satan to have thought about an abortion."

"I see," I said, "so what happened next?"

"I got legal advice to see what I could do. And, do you know what? I've got almost no rights at all. Practically none. But even if I could have insisted on my right to see my child, I didn't want it to be a vicious legal battle. I really couldn't believe that Hannah would do that to me. It was terrible."

He was silent for a few moments.

Kate was being suspiciously quiet, I thought in alarm. But she looked fine.

"The worst time of all was when the baby was born," Adam went on. "I didn't even know if it had been born or not.

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I didn't know if it was healthy. I didn't know whether it was a boy or a girl. Then I called her house and her father told me that it was a girl and she was fine. And that Hannah was fine too. But he said she didn't want to speak to me."

"Isn't that awful?" I breathed.

"Yes, it was. And for a whole year I heard nothing," he said. "It was a nightmare. I was totally powerless."

My attention was distracted from Adam's sorry plight by the sound of feet pounding up the stairs. Then Helen burst into the room. She stared from me to Adam and back again. "What's going on here?" she asked in astonishment.