Baby Be Mine

died when he was thirteen, and he moved down to London to live with his dad. Back then his dad overdosed on drink, drugs and women, and even though Johnny’s mum warned him not to end up like his father, he always worries that he has.
    ‘I thought your dad had changed since he got married?’ It was almost three years ago.
    He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. ‘He’s getting a divorce.’ He meets my eyes. ‘Shelley is pregnant,’ he explains.
    ‘No! But how old is she?’
    ‘Forty-five, something like that. Dad has been having an affair for the last year with some bimbo from the social club. So now my half-brother or half-sister is going to grow up having a shitty excuse for a father, just like I did.’
    ‘Oh, no, Johnny, I’m sorry.’
    ‘Just like Barney has,’ he adds.
    ‘Hey,’ I say warningly. ‘You’re not a shitty excuse for a father.’
    He puts his head in his hands and moans. ‘I can’t believe I let all those fucked-up losers come over when he was in the house.’
    I say nothing. I still can’t believe he did that either.
    He glances up at me. ‘I didn’t take drugs that night.’
    I avert my gaze.
    ‘I know you don’t believe me.’ He stares at me, anguished. ‘But it’s true. Not knowingly. Someone spiked my drink.’
    I stare at him, not sure whether or not he’s telling the truth.
    ‘I swear to you, Meg. I was only drinking. That night, at least,’ he admits, because he can’t fool me that he was only abusing alcohol on the nights in December when the paps kept snapping him for the papers.
    ‘Who spiked your drink?’ Dana?
    He looks down. ‘I don’t know.’
    Neither of us says anything for a while.
    ‘I just wanted to explain,’ he tells me. ‘I really need you to understand.’
    I shake my head. ‘I’ll never understand you.’
    He regards me sadly. ‘No. I guess not,’ he says quietly.
    ‘Dana understood you,’ I point out, as sick nerves start to plague my insides.
    He shakes his head. ‘No.’
    ‘More than I ever have.’
    ‘No,’ he says resolutely. ‘No, that’s not true.’
    I pause. ‘I thought there was something about her that you couldn’t give up?’
    He looks at me for a long time with those piercing eyes and I struggle not to look away. ‘Turns out I was wrong.’
    ‘You think,’ I say wryly.
    ‘If she’s capable of hurting herself like that to get back at me, then I’m as bad for her as she is for me. I assume you saw the stories in the press.’
    I nod. ‘What if she changes?’
    ‘She won’t.’
    ‘You don’t know that.’ Why am I playing devil’s advocate?
    ‘Believe me, I do. Even if she gives up the drink and drugs she won’t change. There’s a darkness inside her. She’s not a good person to be around. For anyone to be around, not least my son.’
    ‘I never thought I’d hear you talking about her like that.’
    He stares at me directly and I try to ignore the swirling nerves. ‘I had a lot of time to think about things while she was in rehab.’
    Seconds pass before I tear my eyes away. ‘I think I’m going to go to bed.’
    He nods and stands up before I do. ‘Me, too.’
    He holds his hands down to me. I hesitate for a split second before taking them. His grasp is warm and firm as he pulls me to my feet, and then I’m standing right in front of him, holding his hands and looking up into his troubled eyes. It’s the second time this evening that a room has felt too small. I want to step backwards but the sofa is there. My heart starts to beat quicker, but I can’t look away. And then he lets go of my hands and puts his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. He rests his chin on the top of my head and my pulse starts to return to normal. This is just a hug. He’s not going to try to kiss me. I relax into him as he holds me tenderly and it feels like the most natural place in the world for me to be. Neither of us speaks, but I know he’s sorry. I know he regrets what he’s done to me. Eventually he lets me go and smiles down at me sadly. I feel at peace with him for the first time, possibly ever.
    ‘Night, night, Nutmeg,’ he says softly, squeezing my hand one last time before letting it go.
    I smile up at him before pulling a funny face. ‘Hang on, you don’t even know which room you’re sleeping in.’
    He pulls a sad face. ‘I thought I was sleeping in yours?’
    ‘Oi!’ I whack him on his arm. ‘You can’t give me one nice cuddle and then expect to get into my pants.’
    He