Chapter 14 #2
The fact that he was beginning to open up to me about his life felt like real progress.
As long as I was careful not to overstep any boundaries or press him with anything too personal, I hoped things would continue moving in the right direction.
I eventually bade him adieu and went to bed – exhausted yet quite content.
I’d started the weekend off right, and dozed off, thinking about possible things I could get into tomorrow.
There was a farmer’s market on Battersea High Street that I’d always wanted to visit.
Perhaps I’d swing by tomorrow morning – maybe with Theo, if he was free?
It would be wholesome, and cute. I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and sent him a DM on Instagram:
Hey! I know this is really random and by all means please feel free to decline, but I’m thinking of going to a farmer’s market tomorrow morning or early afternoon in my area and I was wondering if you wanted to tag along? It’s on Battersea High Street!
Two minutes later, a response:
This one can’t get enough of me, can she?? Haha, I may have some time tomorrow, I know the market you’re talking about. That’s the place that does the viral sourdough ploughman’s sandwiches right? I saw it on TikTok. I can be at yours for say, 10 a.m.?
YES. I was in. This was shaping up to be, by far, an excellent weekend. I quickly typed back:
Ha, well, what can I say? A girl enjoys your company. And yes, that’s the same place! We absolutely have to get a sandwich while there; I’ll see you at 10 a.m.
I loved this for me – this whole ‘grab the bull by the horns’ energy was really paying off, and honestly, I was thriving.
In my head, the script was already written: a picture-perfect, cutesy, wholesome morning with Theo, after which I’d somehow (very smoothly, of course) persuade him to come back to mine.
There, we’d spend the entire afternoon making sweet, passionate love before seamlessly transitioning into more quality time, like some sort of erotic romcom montage.
It was all going to unfold exactly like that. Obviously.
Except, that didn’t bloody happen, did it?
I was jolted awake at 2.44 a.m. by the crackly 8-bit Sonic the Hedgehog ringtone I’d assigned to my brother.
I groggily rolled over to get the phone, having missed the call again, only to see a string of text messages he’d sent over the last thirty minutes, alongside texts from both my mum and dad.
Bianca must be in labour! I called him back and my theory was confirmed immediately.
‘Cass! She’s in labour. She’s in labour! For real this time; we’re in the labour ward at St Tommy’s.’
‘OhmiGodohmyGod OK. OK … has she had the baby yet? How far away is she?’ I cried, clambering out of bed and putting on the first item of clothing I could find. Steven was equally as excited and nervous as I was.
‘The doctors are saying she’s eight centimetres dilated or something like that; she’s in a lot of pain though – Cass, I’m scared, man. What if something goes wrong?’
Bless him. Steven had been waiting his whole life for this moment and I already knew that he would make a better dad than the one we currently had, which reminded me …
‘Bruv, I’m on my way. By the way, are Mum and Dad there? Together?’ There would be enough drama this morning without them being in the same room as each other.
‘Erm, Mum just got here, she’s in the waiting room. Dad … I think he’s on his way but I’m not sure. You’re gonna have to run interference with those two ’cause I’m not gonna have the patience today, to be honest.’
‘Leave it to me, bro. I’m getting an Uber to you guys now. See you soon. Love you,’ I replied, putting on an old Reebok sweatshirt and grabbing my keys.
Twenty minutes later, I was at St Thomas’ hospital racing my way to the labour suite, where I was greeted by Bianca’s parents who were frantically pacing up and down the waiting room, alongside Mum, who was sitting closest to the door, her hands tightly cupped under her head as she rocked back and forth, seemingly in prayer.
‘Hey Mum,’ I said breathlessly as I sat next to her, trying to catch my breath.
I’d had to run up the last two flights of stairs due to elevator doors suddenly failing on me at the last minute.
I hadn’t done that much cardio in a while, and my lungs were not coping well with the sudden increase in heart rate.
‘Cassandra? Do you know you’re wearing two different trainers?’ she replied, kissing her teeth for good measure. I looked down to find that I was wearing one bright-red Adidas Samba trainer and one burgundy Nike running shoe. Because of course that would happen to me.
‘Eh. I’m trying out a new fashion thing; get with the programme, innit?
Anyway, where’s Steve? Is Bianca OK? You haven’t bumped into Dad yet, have you?
’ For some reason I felt more anxious about my parents running into each other than the impending birth of my future nephew.
They hadn’t seen each other in a while and after all the harassment my dad had been putting Mum through of late, I didn’t anticipate their reunion to be a good one.
Mum sighed, wringing her hands in an ever-so-dramatic fashion. She looked exhausted – bless her – as she tried to stifle another yawn.
‘Steve’s in the birthing suite with Bianca – we’ve been told to wait out here, which is ridiculous. This is my first grandchild, I should be in there with them!’
As she said the last sentence an octave higher than the rest, a few heads in the waiting room turned towards us.
‘Mum, I think it’s because they don’t wanna stress Bianca out, to be honest. Having too many people in the suite can be a bit of sensory overload, I reckon.’
But Mum wasn’t trying to hear it.
‘“Sensory overload” my backfoot. What is with your generation making up random words? Back in my day – even when you were born – we had both sides of the family in the room encouraging and cheering me on. She needs support!’
At that, she stood up and started pacing up and down, getting herself more and more agitated. I couldn’t tell if it was the general situation that was getting to her, or perhaps knowing that she’d probably be bumping into my dad at some point soon – sans Femi by her side.
‘Mum, calm down. The doctors are in there and I’m sure she’s being well taken care of—’ and it was at that moment, that the loudest, highest, most piercing scream I’d ever heard erupted through the halls.
That was definitely Bianca, bless her. Steven had a huge head, so my thoughts were with her and her poor pelvis.
Twenty minutes later, Steven popped out of the delivery suite for a short break dressed in blue scrubs, complete with a hairnet on, excited, but shaken.
‘Rah, boy. Labour’s a bit intense, innit? Bianca’s such a trooper, Cassie, I love her so much.’ Tears filled his eyes as he said this, causing me to start silently weeping too.
‘How’s she doing?’
‘She’s fine, we’re just taking a quick break right now. She’s fully dilated now so hopefully the baby will come soon – just wanted to update you guys quickly. Is Dad here yet?’
Mum took a break from speaking with Bianca’s parents on the other side of the waiting area to give Steven a quick hug.
‘It doesn’t matter if your dad is here or not – listen; I’m so proud of you, do you know that?
You’re going to be a brilliant father, as long as you don’t name your son after the dad you have now.
His so-called “legacy” must end with you.
’ Steven and I both guffawed in unison and I struggled to contain my laughter before the sounds of Bianca’s moans took him back into the birthing suite.
And – almost as if by fate – the doors to the waiting room creaked open, revealing Dad as he stepped in slowly, offering a subtle nod to everyone present.
He paused when he reached Mum, his eyes locking onto hers with a quiet, longing gaze.
She returned his gaze with a steely, cold glare.
It was at that point that I realised that I was going to need a coffee; this was indeed going to be a long morning.
‘Daniel,’ said Mum curtly, using his Christian name instead of his Ghanaian one. That’s how I knew she was pissed off. Dad responded, but used her Ghanaian name instead, as if using it would make her feel any less pissed off with him.
‘Adwoa? How are you doing? It’s good to see you.’
My mum responded with a short grunt and faced forward. I was in the centre, looking from one person to the other as if watching a tennis match, wondering if I needed to intervene. The last thing I wanted was to leave them alone together.
‘Hey, Dad. Nice of you to join us eventually. Steve’s just with Bianca but we can’t go in there at the moment. Um, I’m gonna go and find some coffee somewhere, you wanna come with me?’
Dad broke his stare from Mum long enough to offer a casual glance at me.
Despite it being early, he looked good. I could smell the faint aroma of his Hugo Boss fragrance – a signature scent that I knew was Mum’s favourite.
He had recently shaved his beard, judging from the fresh stubble across his jawline and chin, and he was wearing a brand-new pair of trainers.
A part of me wondered whether he had come here to show support for Steve or to try and win my mum back, yet again.
My inclination was to go with the latter.
‘I’m fine, my dear – I’ll stay here but can you get me a coff—’
‘No, no,’ interrupted Mum suddenly, standing up and glaring at Dad venomously. ‘Cassie, I’ll come with you to find a drink.’
As Mum crossed the room to join me, Dad attempted to take her hand, but with the instincts of a cat, she sideswept his gesture in an instant.
‘Not here, Daniel. Your son is having a baby right now. Don’t come and embarrass yourself.’
Dad stared at her, affronted. ‘Adwoa, don’t be like this. Please … if we could just find somewhere to talk—’