Watermelon
Page 114

 Marian Keyes

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"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?"