New Beginnings - another short story ;)

“Motherf...”

Not again. When are these idiots going to finish this damn road? Does it really take three years to upgrade a bloody road? If I worked this bloody slowly I’d be out of a job by now. Whoever said 'change is as good as a holiday' must have been smoking their socks. Don’t need any change here. I'm enjoying the view from this rut. Bloody idiot construction workers.”

This was the monologue in Carl's head as he was driving home. It was a beautiful summer’s afternoon in the Mother City with all the attendant hallmark images of butterflies and birds fluttering in a multitude of breezes but all this was lost on Carl who's attention was firmly taken up by his one-sided dialogue with the construction workers walking or standing along the side of the road who were taking no notice of him. A few were visibly amused by the irate motorist's tirade and this infuriated Carl even more. He swore at everyone from the oblivious workers to the drivers in front of him who were, according to him, “driving like bloody virgins” to the “bloody idiot DJ” on the local radio station.

Carl was not by nature an intolerant or even a violent person. Driving just brought out the reptilian side of him. As did anything that upset his well-ordered world. Carl also hated being late; which he now was. He was taking his girlfriend Emily to the doctor this afternoon and he was already ten minutes late picking her up. She hadn’t been feeling too well the last few days and had been putting off going to the doctor. Carl had finally convinced her to see the physician, making the appointment himself.

The doctor's office is full and despite the appointment they still have to wait,. This does not sit well with Carl who feels that having gone to the trouble of making the appointment they should not have to wait. Emily however seems unperturbed if a little green around the gills. When they finally get in to see the doctor he asks the usual questions while placing his hand on various parts of Emily's abdomen nodding sagely at her replies.

“Does this hurt? Does this hurt? What about here? And here?” and on it goes. Emily is finally sent off to pee in a cup leaving Carl alone with the doctor. The silence seems to deepen and Carl cannot stop fidgeting. The doctor seems not to notice his discomfort all the while scribbling in Emily's file. Carl stares out of the window seeing nothing wishing Emily would return. Finally the door opens and she walks in triumphantly holding her cup of yellow liquid aloft.

“Just put it down there please, my dear.” says the doctor indicating the edge of his desk all the while scribbling furiously. Finally he gets up and removes a strip from a container, inserts it in the urine, immerses it for the requisite amount of time, removes it, places it atop the container and returns to his chair to scribble some more. By this time Carl is beside himself and is seconds away from jumping over the desk and shaking some life into this “idiotic excuse for a physician”. Only Emily's firm grip on his hand restrains him. Finally the doctor gets up, looks at the strip, checks again as if to verify the result and turns to both Carl and Emily and says, “Congratulations Mr and Mrs Simmons...”

“We're not married” interrupts Carl.

“We're not Mr and Mrs Simmons.”

Emily shoots him an irritated look and increases the pressure on his hand.

“Well we're not.” says Carl sulkily.

“Please continue doctor.” says Emily.

“Where was I? Oh yes. Congratulations you're going to be parents.” he frowns and looks at Carl as he says this as if wondering whether that would be such a good idea.

“See here there are two lines and THAT means that you're pregnant.” he continues pointing at the strip while waving it in front of their faces.

Emily has let go of Carl's hand and has taken the test strip from the doctor and is examining it as if to confirm the diagnosis.

“Bloody hell!” thinks Carl.

“Bloody, bloody steaming cow dung from hell!”

“Oh my word, babe. Isn’t it amazing? Oh my word!.” gushes Emily, her nausea and other assorted ailments forgotten for the moment.

“Lovely.” replies Carl through clenched teeth.

At home Emily is already making plans for where the baby's room will be, what colour to paint the walls what they should name the baby; in short all manner of things that cannot be decided on immediately but that she feels should be handled right away. Of course they have to move into a bigger place. Their child should have space to play and explore and discover and set his/her mind free to soar to the highest peaks possible so that he/she can fulfil his/her full potential...blah blah blah. Carl is brooding, mourning for a freedom he is about to lose. He resents already the little cluster of cells growing and multiplying (plotting, to Carl's annoyed brain) inside Emily's womb. Conspiring to rob him of what little freedom and spare time he has left. While Emily is traipsing through the flat he is sitting on the couch staring at, but not seeing, the soccer or rugby game (he cannot tell anymore and does not care) he is pretending to watch.

Early the next morning he is up and out the door giving Emily the usual peck on the cheek as she also gets ready for work. Stuck in the left-over high from the revelation at the doctor's office she hardly notices how detached and uncommunicative Carl has become and puts his silence down to the shock of his imminent fatherhood. She does not think for even a second that he cannot be as giddy with excitement as she is. The day goes quickly for both of them and at the end of it they find themselves seated side by side on the couch with a bowl of microwave popcorn and the late night movie as is their custom. There is little communication as every movie night and Carl can almost delude himself into believing that things are as they have always been and have not changed. That is until Emily breaks the silence by asking, “Do you think Martin is a good name if it's a boy? Martin was my dad's name and I’d like him to have a little bit of his granddad you know?”

“Uhh hhumm.” is Carl's only response.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“You want to name it Martin after your dad I got that. I just don’t have any feelings on the subject one way or the other. Do whatever you like.”

The argument that follows is a battle of two stubborn wills. A titanic storm of recrimination and resentment. Things are said that cannot be unsaid and demons are dredged up from the past that were best left buried and undisturbed. The next morning in the aftermath of the biggest fight of their relationship it seems that the temperature in the flat has dropped by a few degrees. Polite greetings and how-are-you's are exchanged as if they are strangers meeting for the first time instead of the intimate lovers they had become over the many years of their shared life. It seems their relationship has been broken and each blames the other for the break. They live like this for days and then weeks and all the time the stifling atmosphere chokes a little more of whatever life had remained in their relationship until all that is left is a lifeless shell of what had once been. After three weeks of living past each other Carl comes home one day to find that Emily has moved out; left with everything she owns. He reads the letter she has left him and does not recognise the woman he fell in love with in those words. Does not recognise the way she describes him. Surely he is not as she sees him. He does not hate their child. Does he? He sits alone on the couch and stares at the television and sees nothing and hears nothing lost in a world of shock at the loss of the woman he loves and anger at her for making this all his fault. He moves from being completely in tears one moment to anger of such strength that he feels he could punch through walls and break things. Of course he doesn’t as that would cause a mess and then he'd have to clean it up but he placates himself with imagining smashing every cup and plate against the walls and leaving it all lying on the floor. He gets up every morning and goes to work and comes home after to cook supper and sit alone on the couch he once shared with Emily aching to have her close again, needing to feel her in his arms, dying to apologise and beg her forgiveness but too proud and stubborn to do any of those things. And so he sits alone as the days drag into months and the wounds on his heart scab over and harden. He calls daily to ask how Emily is and accompanies her to the check-ups and doctors visits and has seen the scans and ultrasound results. They are having a boy and have decided to name him Martin after all. Martin Simmons.

Emily is due at the end of June and on the twenty-fifth of that same month Carl is required to attend a conference in another city. He cannot refuse, that much is made clear to him, so he dutifully boards the plane and books into the hotel and sits through hour after hour of mind-numbing lectures on subjects that no-one but the lecturer finds fascinating. He gorges himself on free conference food and networks like all the other attendees but all the while his mind is elsewhere wondering whether Emily has gone into labour, whether her water has broken. Surely she would call if it had. Wouldn’t she?

“So yeh we tried for years and spent obscene amounts of money on it and nothing ever came of it.”

“Sorry what were you saying?” asks Carl

Laughing, the other man at the bar who has suddenly befriended Carl and has started telling him his life story says, “I was saying, my good man, that Fiona, that's my wife, and I had been trying to have kids for years. Cost us an awful lot of money but it just never took, you know. The attempts nearly broke us and almost ended our marriage. In the end we had to call it quits and accept that we were not meant to be parents. Took us a while to accept it and lots of therapy but we came to terms with it and moved on. Those lucky buggers out there who fall pregnant at the drop of a hat, or a pair of pants, are the lucky ones. What I wouldn't give to have a son of my own to...”

And Carl was off, running out of the bar to the astonishment of all the patrons.

“Hey was it something I said?” was the last thing he heard as he rounded the corner and headed for the stairs taking them two at a time in his haste to get to his room.

The door opens and Emily is standing there arms crossed and looking daggers at him standing on the doorstep.

“What do you want?” she asks.

“Can I come in, please?”

“What for?”

“We need to talk. Please.”

“I don't have anything to say to you, Carl.”

“Please let me at least say what I've come to say. Please. I miss you and I love you.”

“Fine.” and she steps aside to let him in.

They sit down in the sitting room he on the couch and she on a chair. She glares at him and says “Well get on with it then.”

“Emily.” begins Carl. “I miss you. I was an idiot and a fool. I was immature and stupid and I never meant to say the things I said. I am miserable without you and I couldn't go on without you. Please give me another chance. I couldn't go on living without you and Martin in my life. I was an idiot and a fool and...”

“Stop. All this means nothing to me. You hurt me that night and now you come here and expect that these words will get you back in my life? Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I can't live without you. You are my life. You and Martin. I am going to be a father. I finally get what that means and although it scares me I want to do the best by him that I know how. I want to do the best by both of you. I am begging you to please give me another chance. Please Emily.”

She looks away a tear sliding down her cheek.

“I want to believe you but I'm scared that you'll hurt me again. I couldn't take being hurt like that again. Not ever.”

“I promise that I will never do anything to hurt you ever again. I am so sorry. I know how inadequate those words are but I hope you can hear the sincerity behind them.”

She turns to him tears pouring from her eyes. A deluge of emotion. He gets up and walks to her and takes her in his arms. No words are spoken, none need to be spoken. Their hearts are whole once again. They hug and kiss and cry and hug some more, rather awkwardly with Emily's bump in the way and for the first time in many months they both smile.

“Tell me.” says Emily after they had separated and were sitting on the couch holding hands, “What was going through your head that night.”

“Do we have to go there? Please can't we just put it all behind us?” pleads Carl.

“I want to know. I cant just pretend it never happened. I need to understand it.”

Rather reluctantly Carl tries to explain to Emily how he had stupidly resented the baby's intrusion on their lives and had somehow become angry that their lives were going to change so drastically. He had had months to think it all through and analyse everything that had been said and left unsaid.

“So why did you come here today and pour your heart out so spectacularly?” asks Emily.

“I realised that I had thrown away what many people struggle their whole lives for and I finally saw what an ass I was.”

“Aww that's so sweet. You're right you were an ass but I love you, babe”

“I love you too, hun.”