I staggered through the night streets of London, my steps unsteady after a generous nightcap. Where Id ended up didnt matterthis was my hometown, and my feet would eventually find their way home. I was too busy with something more pressing, muttering my thoughts aloud.
Why, why is my life like this? Im twentyseven; my mates kids are already in school, yet every girl I meet seems to disappear within a month. Rough? Im not rough well, maybe a bit. Thats the sort of bloke I am, I said, smiling despite myself. The only thing Ive managed is a decent business. Im far from a millionaire, but its enough for a comfortable life.
Suddenly I clutched my head, tears spilling from my eyes. Ive paid a fortune to that GP, and he says, I cant help you. Heres the address of a top London specialist, but I doubt even hell sort it out. Ill see him tomorrow, I thought.
I approached a bridge and stared down at the dark water. Should I drown? I whispered. The river was deep, everything that fell in vanished. No, I wont go under. Its cold, and Socrates the cat isnt fed. Ill just go home.
As I stepped onto the bridge, a young woman appeared in the middle, a small backpack cradling a baby against her chest. She stared at the water, then climbed onto the railing, lifted onto the top rail, and spread her arms as if ready to leap. I lunged, caught her waist, pulled her close, and we both tumbled onto the dusty stones below. The baby began to wail.
Are you an idiot? I shouted, sobering instantly. What do you want? Why are you getting involved where youre not wanted? she wailed.
I thought you were dying too early, I said, nodding toward the crying infant. Hes even more vulnerable. Get up and go home to your husband or your mother! Who are you supposed to be with?
No home, no husband, no mother. Ive got nobody! she sobbed.
I set her down with the child. Youre on my doorstep now, I said, helping her to her feet. Lets go.
She shrank back. I wont go anywhere with you. What if youre a madman?
Drownings an option any time, love. And a madman? Thats scary, isnt it? I tugged at her arm. Come on!
We trudged through the night, the babys cries echoing behind us. Finally I could take it no longer.
Why does he keep bawling? I asked.
Hungry? she pressed the child to her chest.
Give him some milk then.
Ive got no milk, no money, and no brains to boot, she replied miserably.
Lets head to the allnight grocery on the corner, I suggested, pointing.
The shopkeeper and security gave us a wary glance, but I grabbed a basket and turned to the woman. Wheres the milk?
She pointed to a chilled display. Take what you need, I instructed.
She grabbed a small packet. More, please. Take as much as you want, I told her, watching her fill the basket. Anything else?
Diapers, she said.
What are diapers? I asked.
She smiled faintly. Theyre over there.
Grab them, I said. And wipes?
Sure, she replied.
At the register I handed over a card. We only take cash, the clerk warned.
I pulled out a crumpled bundle of £20 notes and handed over one. No change? the clerk said.
Give the change to the chocolate on the shelf, I muttered, pointing.
We entered a flat. The woman looked around, bewildered. The landlord slipped off his shoes, darted to the fridge, flung a piece of fish at a waiting cat, then gulped a juice. After filling himself, he turned to the guest.
Youll be sleeping in that room, he said, indicating a door. Kitchen, loo, bath all there. Im off to bed. He headed to another room, paused, then turned back. Whats your name?
Emily, she answered.
It looks like youre not a lunatic after all. She went into the kitchen, switched on the gas hob, set a kettle on. Blimey, I almost drowned! If it werent for that nutcase What would Ruslan and I have been doing out there in the cold? Well be kicked out tomorrow anyway. At least well be warm tonight.
The kettle whistled. I carried the crying infant to the bed, produced a bottle from my bag and hurried back to the kitchen. I washed a bottle, poured in milk, diluted it with hot water. The little one gulped it down greedily and soon fell asleep. I wiped him with a wet wipe, slipped on a fresh nappy, and he drifted off.
I went to the bathroom, freshened up, then returned to the kitchen. My stomach growled, so I opened the fridge. My hand automatically snatched a slice of smoked sausage and shoved it in my mouth. While chewing, I tore off a piece of crusty bread, a bit of cheese, and more sausage.
When my hunger eased, I realised Id acted rather sloppily. I waved my hand, collapsed onto the bed beside the child, and fell asleep instantly.
Morning came. Throughout the night Id woken a few times to feed the baby. He was eight months old and always hungry. I heard the landlord moving in the kitchen, and now he was up.
Its time, I whispered, careful not to wake the child. Good things cant last forever.
He was fiddling with the stove. I washed my hands quickly and slipped into the kitchen.
Take a seat, he said, pointing to a chair. Ill make some scrambled eggs.
No, you sit, I nudged him away from the hob.
I chopped fresh dill, sprinkled it over the eggs, polished the mugs, and brewed a cup of tea. He kept talking on the phone, ordering, arguing. Emily seemed to think he barely noticed her. He ate, sipped his coffee, and stood up.
Emily tensed, waiting for the inevitable.
Listen up, Emily! Im off to Manchester for a week. The most important thing is to feed the cat, Socrates. Dont give him any cheap cat food! He gets fresh fish, fresh meat. Stay out of my study. In the other rooms you can do as you like.
A soft wail rose from the bedroom. Emily sprang up, eyes wide.
Go! he said.
A few minutes later she returned with the baby in her arms, a stack of £20 notes on the table.
Should be enough for the week, he said, nodding at the cash. Im off.
He stepped toward the door, but the little one reached out, babbling something like papa. It struck a chord deep inside me. Id never been a father.
Emily, may I hold him? I asked, surprised at my own words.
Go on! she handed the child over, a faint smile playing on her lips. Never held a baby before?
Thats how its done, I said, cradling the infant, who cooed and waved his tiny hands merrily. I stared at the little miracle, my heart tightening. Ill never have a son, I muttered, handing the baby back to Emily before walking out.
I headed home, still reeling from the London specialists verdictno children for me. My mood was sour.
Whats the point of all this cash, a fourbedroom flat, a Kia? A man should earn for his family. My flat is a mess, the cars cramped.
I entered my own flat, everything spotless, the womans guilty smile greeting me.
Papa! flashed the babys tiny hands in my mind.
My bag dropped, my hands reaching instinctively for the child
