Baby Be Mine

. Christian would never have left . . .
    Oh, who am I kidding? He couldn’t even make it home for Barney’s first birthday. I can’t look at our life together through rose-tinted glasses. I won’t.
    I’m alone in this world. Well, not alone. I’m with Barney. It’s just him and me. I wipe my tears from my eyes with steely resolution and set off for home.
    By the time Johnny returns after almost a week away, Barney is much better. My little boy welcomes his biological father home with open arms, but I don’t even want to look at him, much less speak to him. Maybe this is me being irrational, but I feel like I’ve been to hell and back these last few months and I’m starting to accept that it’s not entirely my own doing.
    ‘Alright?’ Johnny asks. He looks knackered – even more so than he did before he left.
    ‘How was Big Sur?’ I ask without smiling.
    ‘We didn’t go there in the end,’ he replies indifferently.
    ‘Where did you go?’
    ‘Up to San Fran. Caught up with some friends.’
    So that’s why he looks whacked. Instead of R&R in Big Sur he went for sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll in San Francisco. My simmering blood reaches boiling point.
    ‘What’s up with you?’ Johnny asks, sensing my mood.
    ‘Barney hasn’t been well.’
    ‘He looks alright to me.’ He reaches down and squeezes Barney’s shoulder, but his cutesy gesture has no effect on me.
    ‘He had an ear infection and then a bad reaction to his antibiotics. I had to call the doctor in twice.’
    ‘You did the right thing,’ he says, which I find extremely patronising. I stand there glaring at him, but he’s seemingly oblivious. ‘Had a hard few days. Going to hit the sack.’ He turns to walk away and I stare after him in disbelief. ‘Probably still going to do Big Sur this week,’ he adds.
    ‘Are you kidding me?’ I practically screech.
    He turns around, confusion etched across his brow.
    ‘You’re not going anywhere!’
    Even I realise I sound slightly demented, but I’ve had it up to my ears.
    ‘Excuse me?’ he replies, slightly sinisterly. Lena hurries out of the office and gives us both a wary look before ushering Barney outside with her. Somewhere inside I’m grateful, but my emotions are mostly anger.
    ‘What’s your problem?’ he asks.
    ‘You! You are my problem!’ Now there’s no end to my ranting. ‘What the hell am I even doing here?’
    ‘Where would you rather be? Back in France, living with your parents?’ he says cuttingly.
    I ignore that comment. ‘You wanted to spend some more time with Barney, yet you’re buggering off with your druggy nut-job girlfriend left, right and centre!’
    ‘Hey!’ he warns. ‘You’re out of line.’
    ‘Why?’ I screech. ‘It’s true!’
    ‘Fuck you.’
    ‘Fuck you!’
    ‘Fuck you!’ He raises his voice and points at me. ‘I won’t have you talking about Dana like that!’
    His words cut like a knife and, to my horror, my eyes fill with tears. I turn and flee up the stairs to the relative safety of my bedroom. I slam the door shut and lean up against it. I’m shaking. Tears pour down my cheeks and I angrily brush them away, furious with myself for not being able to argue my own corner. How can he still reduce me to a quivering wreck? I used to be strong. I somehow found the strength to leave last time – but it took too long. Way too long. I still despise myself for it.
    Oh, God. My life is a wreck. I used to like myself. I haven’t liked myself for a long time. Johnny has always made me feel weak and out of control – ever since I first came to work for him.
    There’s a knock on the door. I pause, wondering if it’s Lena with Barney.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Open up,’ Johnny says.
    ‘Go away,’ I respond angrily.
    He starts to open the door.
    ‘I said, GO AWAY!’ I shout, pushing back against it like a crazy teenager.
    ‘Open the fucking door,’ he says gruffly. ‘I want to talk to you.’
    I’m about to reply, ‘I don’t want to talk to you’ , when I reel my fifteen-year-old self back in. It’s time to regain control.
    I step away from the door and he stumbles into the bedroom.
    ‘What?’ I snap, defiantly staring into his piercing eyes.
    He roughly pushes his hair away from his face. Suddenly the enormous room feels too small. The bed we slept on together is there, right there.
    ‘What do you want from me?’ he demands to know, his chest heaving underneath his black T-shirt.
    I let out a sharp laugh. ‘Are you taking