Tuesday 21 March "If
we'd got here on time we could have had a white baby." "Shut
up," I hissed. Honestly, Daniel seems to think making ironic joke of
pretending to be racist can be relied on to make everyone roar with
laughter - even if you are sitting in an ethnically diverse west London
prenatal/infant care class, trying to put a nappy on a black plastic
baby. "What's
the matter, Jones?" he said, still too loudly. "I'm not saying one
colour plastic baby's better than another. I'm just saying if you hadn't
taken so long getting ready we could have made an informed choice as to
what colour baby we wanted. You know," he said encouragingly, as if I
was a celebrity-obsessed halfwit, "...like Brad and Angelina?" "Finished
at the back there, have we?" said Becca, our prenatal class-leader,
sarcastically. She was pretty, but with a dour left-wing-councillor-type
manner which didn't quite fit. "Are we going to show the class what we've
done?" "Fuck,
Jones, come on!" stage-whispered Daniel, flapping around with the baby
and nappy as if in a speed origami championship. "There!" he said,
holding up the baby with its nappy, back to front, hanging off one
little leg. The other couples stared coldly, as if he were an irritating
American movie star, attempting to do slapstick in a crappy Christmas
movie. Sank
down, miserably. Had been so excited when Daniel agreed to come to the
class, feeling surging hope that, once he got sense of tininess and
vulnerability of baby - maybe even seeing adorable babies in video or
holding imitation baby! - he would begin to develop sense of self as
father. This would then totally alter his character, removing
sex-crazed, commitment-phobic-bastard elements and leaving merely
amusingness, intelligence and charm. Unfortunately,
whole thing got off to bad start owing to lateness (was definitely not
my fault - how is one supposed to decide what to wear for a date at a
prenatal/infant care class?) and then, ghastly Becca woman started
showing video "not of lovely pink fluffy babies, but of all revolting
things that happen to them" cradle cap, crepuscules oozing yellow pus,
tummy buttons turning black and stinking and entire baby turning yellow,
blue or purple and screaming head off. Could
feel Daniel going into meltdown at very thought. On top of everything
else, realised all other couples had plastic baby except us, owing to
lateness, so had to ask for baby and discovered there was only one left,
which led to Daniel making tasteless joke. Becca
was now holding said baby up disparagingly by one arm. "Yes. I don't
think we're taking this very seriously, are we?" She dropped the baby
back on the table in front of Daniel with a brutal clatter. "It's a pity
because you're wasting a lot of people's time." Had
never seen anyone attempt to humiliate Daniel in public before - apart
from me and Mark Darcy, that is. "But
on the contrary, Dr... Dr...?" Daniel said, smoothly. "Becca,"
she snapped. "I
had no idea the whole nappy business would be so fascinating, or so
challenging. I have the utmost respect for anyone who is able to... to."
He looked at the nappy with an expression of boyish bewilderment. "Is
this not correct?" A
couple of the pregnant women started to giggle. This only seemed to
enrage Becca more. "I
think," she said, with a nasty smile, "that when you have a real newborn
infant you might find all this isn't so funny. You might find you
actually have to start taking your responsibilities seriously, for once." "But
my dear Becca, you misunderstand me entirely. Taking my responsibilities
seriously is precisely why I'm here today. I am hear to grow and learn -
to learn how to deal with my blue, crepuscular, blackened-penised..." "Get
out," As Becca spat the words a seed of suspicion suddenly sprouted in
my mind into a huge tree or other suspicious plant-life form. "By
all means. Should I take the plastic baby with me or leave him here?" "Just
put it down," she said poisonously, holding open the door. Hurried out
after Daniel, confronting him as soon as the door shut behind us. "Daniel,
have you slept with that woman?" "Unfortunately
Jones, yes," he said, steering me along the corridor. "Though if I'm
remembering the occasion correctly - and have the right person - it was
actually a bit worse than that. Let's go get a drink." As
waited for him to bring the car (unusually gallant offer from Daniel -
which he explained by saying he didn't want his son to be born a frozen
chicken) realised shoelace had come undone. Bent down to fasten it but
couldn't reach because of strange lump, then remembered was own stomach
with baby in. Suddenly felt all alone and tired. Is strain trying to
cheerleader Daniel into enthusiasm for impending baby, when have own
anxieties, problems, etc. "Come
on Jones, let's go find a bar," said Daniel, bursting through the swing
doors looking all glowing and vigorous from the cold. "What's the
matter?" "Can
we just go home?" I said. "I'm a bit tired." "Tired?
It's only 8.30." "Er,
I'm pregnant, remember?" "Oh
yes. OK, I'll drop you off first." Seeing my face, he added: "Or come in
for a drink?" Was
just sinking gratefully into the sofa while Daniel looked around for
whisky when the answerphone clicked on. "Bridget,
it's Mark. You know what I said the other night - about adopting the
baby? I did mean it you know. It's only the wretched Cleaver element
which gets in the way. Maybe we should talk." I
saw Daniel freeze, his back to me, his hand on the whisky bottle. Then
he turned, looking all anguished, knelt in front of me, and put his hand
gently on the bump. "He's
my baby," he said. "He's my little boy. Even if he does come out all
flaky and purple." Oh
God. It's exactly how he used to be with me. He didn't want to commit,
but he didn't want anyone else to have me either. |