The World Made Yonder Pt. 02

'Hello, Daddy!' said Stephen.

'Hello, son,' said Joey.

As he opened the thin newspaper, he saw in his peripheral vision Celia turn her head. He looked at her and smiled. She smiled back—a dazzling smile—and returned to her cooking. Joey could tell by the flourishes of the wooden spatula that she was almost vibrating with happiness. There was sex to be had if he wanted it.

'Daddy?'

'Hmm?'

'Mummy said that I might be having a brother.'

'That's right.'

'Well, I've thought about it and I've decided something.'

'And what's that?'

'If I have a brother, I want it to be a boy.'

Joey laughed quietly.

'Stephen...' he said, his eyes still on the newspaper, 'if your mother has a boy, he will be your brother. And if she has a girl, she will be your sister.'

'Oh.' Stephen blinked. 'Oh, yes. I forgot.'

'Goodness,' mumbled Joey. 'What do they teach you in school?'

'Well, Ms Olsen says it would be better to use the word "sibling".'

'Why?'

'Because it's gender neutral.'

Both Joey and Celia turned to look at Stephen at the same moment. Without realising it, the boy now had their full, undivided attention. When Joey next spoke, he was careful to keep his voice neutral.

'And why does Ms Olsen think a gender-neutral word is "better".'

'Well, Ms Olsen says the world would be better if it was inclusive. And she says that using gender-neutral words makes it more inclusive.'

Celia said: 'Well, in this house, we use the words "brother and sister"! Right, Joey?'

Joey was silent. Celia took a step away from the stove and glared, but Joey's hand snapped up warning her to be quiet. Meanwhile, Stephen had heard the anger in his mother's voice and now looked from his mother to his father. His eyes went wide and his lower lip quivered.

'Did I say something bad?' he said, a crack in his voice.

'No, darling, no!' cried Celia.

She swept in from the kitchen area and hugged the boy as he sat in his chair. Joey glanced over at the stove and saw the gas flames still burning under the pans. He went over to turn them down.

'Stephen, it's fine!' said Celia. 'Don't listen to that silly woman.'

'But she's my teacher.'

'Yes, but teachers don't know everything. Right, Joey?'

Standing at the stove, Joey was seized by the sudden urge to say, 'Ask Bjorn!' Stephen would say, 'Who's Bjorn?' and Celia would be sent spinning into a pile of shit so deep she'd never climb out of it. With two words, Joey could wreck her world, destroy what she loved, punish her for what she did.

The man forced himself to walk back to the dining table. He took the chair on Stephen's other side and sat facing the boy. What he saw when he looked into Stephen's blue eyes was absolute trust. Every word which came out of Joey's mouth would not only be listened to—it would be carved deep into the little boy's infant psyche. If Joey really wanted to hurt Celia, this was where he could cause her the most lasting pain.

Joey swallowed and spoke.

'Listen, Stephen,' he said. 'Ms Olsen clearly has an opinion on how to use the words "brother and sister" and "sibling". And she has a right to that opinion. I also have an opinion on those words and so does your mother, and we have a right to our opinions too, even if they are different from Ms Olsen's. But here's the thing: It's not my job or your mother's job or even Ms Olsen's job to teach you what to think. Our job is to help you learn to think for yourself. For you to have your own opinion. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' said Stephen. 'But I don't have an opinion.'

'All right, well let's start with what you think.'

'I think what you think, Daddy.'

'Ah, but I haven't told you what I think,' said Joey. 'And I'm not going to tell you until I hear what you have to say.'

Stephen pulled a face. Joey smiled. He glanced at Celia and saw an expression of adoration on her face. But it wasn't for Stephen—it was for him.

'So, Stephen...' said Joey. 'What comes to mind when you think about the words "brother and sister"? What pops into your head?'

Stephen frowned as his brain worked on the question.

'Ron Weasley,' he said.

'From the Harry Potter stories?' said Celia.

'Yes. I mean, he had lots of brothers, but only one sister. And he loved his brothers—except for Percy—but his sister was still special. And I don't think she would be as special if she was a "sibling".'

'Why not?' said Joey.

'Because "brother and sister" has a family feeling. And "sibling" doesn't.'

Stephen looked at Joey to see what he thought. Joey smiled and said:

'That, Stephen, is an opinion.'

'But is it a good one?'

'I think so. But that, of course, is my opinion.'

'So an opinion is just what I think of something?'

'That's right.'

'Oh.'

Stephen looked surprised, as though he expected it to be more complicated. Celia could no longer contain herself—she grabbed the boy and nuzzled his cheek and neck.

'You're so clever!' she said.

'Mu-u-um!'

'All right!'

She gave him one last kiss and released him, standing up and walking around the table. Before Joey knew what was happening, Celia grabbed him around the shoulders and pressed her mouth to his ear.

'I love you!' she whispered fiercely.

Her tongue darted in and out of his ear, then she was off to finish dinner before Stephen could notice the misbehaviour. Joey sat at the table with a sudden hard-on and the sad knowledge that—right at that moment—Celia's love for him was genuine.

***************************

It was late evening and Celia was upstairs putting Stephen to bed. Joey sat at the dining table, everything in the dishwasher except for his glass of sparkling water. He decided to forgo the usual glass of red wine and Celia had followed suit. 'Good idea,' she had said, giving him a kiss, her eyes sparkling in their own fashion.

Joey glanced at the computer bag still on the chair at the far end of the table. He considered taking out the paternity test and placing the box in the middle of the table, so Celia could see it as soon as she walked in. He rejected the idea. Joey no longer felt any pleasure at blowing her world apart. He heard mother and son singing upstairs and he wanted to cry.

Joey finished his glass of water and went to the fridge to refill it. He sat back on his chair, one leg crossed over the other, patiently waiting. The voices upstairs eventually became quiet and after a time he heard his wife coming down the stairs. Footsteps approached and the door opened.

'Hello, handsome,' said Celia, entering the room and closing the door behind her.

'Hi Celia,' said Joey quietly.

'Oh, you're sad! Why are you sad?'

Celia was heading around the table to give him a hug. Joey spoke quickly.

'Because I have something in my bag which is going to spoil your mood.'

Celia froze in her tracks. She looked down at the bag, her mind going through the possibilities. It landed on one and she put her hands on her hips.

'Let me guess,' she said. 'One of those home DNA test thingies?'

Joey took a sip of sparkling water and said nothing. Celia nodded to herself and moved back to the other side of the table.

'Well, that was quick,' she said. 'Did you buy it on the way home from work?'

'No, Jeremy gave it to me this afternoon.'

'Jeremy?' Celia turned to face her husband. 'So you told him?'

'Yes.'

'Nice one! Thanks for sharing my private business!'

Joey smiled with relief. He wasn't feeling bad anymore. Celia bristled.

'What's so funny?' she snarled.

'You are,' he said. 'With all the shit we're in, your first thought is: What will people think?'

'You're not the one our friends will be calling a slut!'

'Oh, and "cuckold" is so much nicer!'

Joey's voice was sharp with anger. Celia hesitated. Then she went to get the whiskey bottle and two matching glass tumblers from the cabinet.

'Not for me,' said Joey.

Celia sat opposite him and poured two glasses. She pushed one towards him. Joey glared and Celia looked back, unrepentant.

'If you don't want it, don't drink it,' she said.

She took a mouthful of the golden liquid. Joey pointedly sipped his fizzy water. Celia tilted her head, regarding him while she swirled her whiskey.

'So you have decided to do a paternity test on Stephen?' she said.

'Yes.'

'Do I get a say in this?'

'No.'

Celia took another drink and held it in her mouth as she considered. When she was ready, she swallowed.

'All right,' she said. 'You go ahead. But if you do this, there is another test I would like you to consider.'

'And what's that?'

'I've been giving the situation a lot of thought,' said Celia, sitting back and crossing her legs, like a lawyer pondering a case. 'And it occurs to me that I came off birth control almost a full year before Jackie Warren's birthday party.'

'Are you suggesting I'm infertile?'

'Well, isn't it possible? You put enough sperm into me to fill up that glass and what happened? Nothing. And we both know fertility is not my issue.'

Joey felt his guts tighten. He glanced at the whiskey on his side of the table and felt his mouth water. He forced himself to look back at Celia.

'It wouldn't justify what you did,' he said.

'Oh, I disagree,' said Celia. 'Depriving you of having your own child is one thing. But to deprive myself of having a child because the man I married is incapable of giving me one? That's something else altogether.'

'Even if you're right,' said Joey, 'you'd still be a cheating slut.'

Celia jerked in her chair. Joey saw her throat turn bright red. She glared at him with furious eyes, then finished her glass and placed it onto the table with controlled deliberation.

'Fine,' she said in a quiet voice. 'You go ahead and judge me. Do your paternity test, do whatever the fuck you want. I don't care anymore. I had sex with a man and he gave me a beautiful boy—and you will never take that away from me.'

Celia got up, chair scraping the floor, and walked out, closing the door behind her. Joey stared at the closed door, wanting to rip it from its hinges. He glanced down and saw again the whiskey, golden and inviting, in its crystal tumbler. The glass of whiskey his wife had poured for him.

Joey picked it up and hurled it at the wall.

***************************

Lorna was lounging on the couch in her apartment, watching the time-travelling heroine kiss her seventeenth century lover, when her smartphone rang. She saw the name on the screen and immediately paused the programme.

'Joey, hi!' she said. 'This is ... a surprise.'

'Hello, Lorna,' said Joey, who sounded like he was in a car. 'Am I disturbing you?'

'No. Just watching something on Netflix. Is everything all right?'

There was no answer. Lorna could hear a background rushing sound, which somehow matched the sudden pounding of her heart.

'Not really,' he said. 'I'm going through some ... some personal stuff. And you once told me that, um ... that if I ever needed someone to talk to, you were a good listener.'

'I remember.'

She did too. It was at the office Christmas party. Lorna had been drunk and Joey's wife had left early after some tiff with her husband. At the time, Joey seemed irritated and Lorna had scolded herself afterwards. She now sent a silent apology back to her past self.

'Do you have my address?' said Lorna.

'It's in the staff database, right?'

'I'll text it to you. Whereabouts are you, by the way?'

Joey told her. Lorna estimated that she had less than half an hour before he arrived. They said goodbye, hung up and Lorna sprang into action. After texting her address, she set her phone timer for ten minutes and ran into the bedroom. She was currently wearing sweatpants and a cardigan, so the first order of business was to change into something more attractive. After rummaging through her wardrobe, she settled on a 'Busty Catwoman' look—black polo neck jumper, black designer gym leggings, black ankle socks and white trainers. It was sexy, but not obviously seductive. Lorna could say she just got back from the gym and threw on a jumper.

The timer went off and Lorna set it for another ten minutes. She then performed a rapid tidy up of her bedroom and living room, making sure stray clothes ended up in the laundry basket. The small kitchen also had pots and plates in the sink, but hopefully Joey wouldn't go in there. She dashed into the bathroom to touch up her makeup and brush her teeth. She heard her timer go off in the living room. Less than ten minutes to go. What else could she do?

Lorna went back to the living room, turned off the main light and turned on two table lamps. It was still a bit sterile. She had a candleholder in the shape of a meditating Buddha, so she put a fresh tea-light in his lap and lit it with a box of matches from the kitchen. She was just lighting another big candle when the intercom sounded.

Lorna lived on the third floor of a three-storey building. She buzzed Joey in, then opened the front door a crack. Glancing around in a final check, she was struck by a thought and dashed through the living room into the kitchen. There were three bottles of beer in the fridge, thank God, and maybe two glasses-worth of white wine in the bottle next to the skimmed milk.

'Hello?' came a man's voice.

'In here!' called Lorna. 'Oh! Could you give the front door a hard push? It doesn't close properly!'

She heard a slam. Yeah, that'll do it, she thought as she went into the living room. Joey entered through the door on the other side of the room. It was strange to see her boss in her apartment. He seemed to fill it up, with his long grey coat and polished brown brogues. He blinked when he saw Lorna in her figure-hugging black jumper and looked around the room.

'Welcome to my humble abode!' said Lorna and cringed internally. 'Here, let me take your coat.'

Joey shrugged off his coat and handed it to her. Lorna gestured for him to sit on the couch and laid his coat over the back of a wooden chair at the table near the kitchen doorway.

'Would you like a beer?' she said.

'Sure,' said Joey.

Lorna went into the kitchen, then immediately came back.

'Do you want it in a glass?' she said.

'Pardon?'

'Well, they're bottles of beer, so maybe you want a glass? Unless you like drinking from the bottle? But, at work, I noticed that—'

'A bottle is fine.'

'Right ... okay...'

Lorna went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She winced as the bottles clanked together. Closing the fridge door, she forced herself to walk slowly back to the couch where Joey was sitting. Then she realised she had forgotten the bottle opener and had to dash back to the kitchen. It seemed an age before she found the damn thing, but finally she made her way back to the couch and handed the metal opener to Joey. Both beers were on the glass coffee table before him, so he opened both bottles and handed one to her.

'Ever the gentleman!' she said and cringed again.

Why the fuck was her brain spitting out these dumb clichés? Lorna sat on the armchair next to the couch and gulped down her beer, hoping Joey was too distracted to notice. There was a rumour that he had been crying in his office, and he did look tired and stressed. Lorna cleared her throat and put on her listening face.

'So, Joey, what's up?'

Her boss was staring into space. He took a long pull of his beer and let out a deep sigh.

Now that Joey was here, he was beginning to realise that he didn't want to talk about his private life with Lorna. It wasn't that he didn't trust her to be discreet. He just didn't want her to know. He wondered whether he could come up with a work-related issue.

'This is difficult,' he said.

'Just take your time.'

'I, er...'

Joey closed his eyes. Shit, he had to tell her something.

'I just found out...' he said, and swallowed, '...that my wife cheated on me.'

'Oh, my God!' gasped Lorna, both genuinely shocked and secretly delighted. She wanted to run into the bedroom and scream into a pillow. 'Joey, that's terrible! I'm so sorry to hear that!'

'Thanks.'

'How did you find out?'

Joey stared at the green glass of the beer bottle. This wasn't going to work. One question would inevitably lead to another and he had zero interest in confiding in Lorna or seeking her comfort or sympathy. The truth was, he was hoping to fuck her. And even that hope didn't stem from a desire for Lorna herself—it was a desire to get back at Celia, to even the score. He really was more interested in Lorna's tits than her trust. And when Joey realised that, he was hit by a wave of self-disgust and shame.

Joey put his half-full bottle onto the glass coffee table with a clack.

'Lorna, I'm sorry,' he said. 'I shouldn't have come here. I'm really, really sorry.'

Lorna was stunned. She watched, stupefied, as Joey got up and walked across the room, heading for the wooden chair where his coat was lying. She felt mortified, humiliated, absolutely terrible. He came back, his coat over his arm, looking at her with a kind of pity.

'I'm sorry,' he said again. 'This was a mistake. I hope you can forgive me.'

He turned to go. Lorna realised that when he left the room, he would be gone for good. And, at work, that look of pity would always be in his eyes.

'Joey...' she said.

Joey stopped, his hand on the door handle. He looked at her, waiting out of a sense of politeness. Lorna swallowed her humiliation and forced herself to think.

'Do you remember that potential client we lost a couple of months ago?' she said. 'Those two finance guys who wanted an internet campaign?'

'Yes, I think so.'

'Well, after we got the email telling us they were going elsewhere, I called the senior partner and asked him why they hadn't chosen for us. To begin with, he gave me the usual bullshit about the other party being "a better fit", but I persisted and he finally told me. And although what he said was sometimes painful to hear, he made a lot of good points and I appreciated that. Even though we didn't go forward together, at least I felt things were ended with a kind of mutual respect. Do you see what I'm saying?'

Joey looked at the woman sitting in the armchair. A moment ago, he had seen her as a lonely girl with a rather obvious crush on him. Now he was looking at the woman who handled half his clientele. He took his hand off the door handle, came back to the couch and sat down, holding his coat between his legs.

'Fair enough,' he said. 'What would you like to know?'

'Why did you call me?'

'I was upset.'

'I know, but you must have other friends. You could have called Jeremy. But instead, you called me, a woman you don't know outside of the office. There must be a reason, right?'

Joey stared into the room, chewing the inside of his cheek. He knew exactly the reason and he suspected Lorna did too. Lorna took a sip of beer and watched him.

'You're right, there is a reason,' said Joey. 'But I'm reluctant to tell you what it is.'

'Why?'

'Because I'm afraid of offending you.'

Joey turned and gave her a look. Lorna took another sip of beer, pondering his answer. Then she put down the beer and reached for her phone.

'All right, I want to make a bet with you,' she said. 'I bet that in ten minutes, I can convince you that there is nothing you can say that will offend me. But there's a catch. For those ten minutes, you have to promise to sit on that couch and not move, no matter what happens. Do you understand?'

Joey's mouth went dry. He swallowed and nodded. Lorna frowned playfully, as though not understanding.

'Yes, I understand,' said Joey.

'And do I have your word that I will have those ten minutes?'

Joey took a deep breath.

'Yes,' he said. 'You have my word.'

Lorna regarded the man on the couch. Then, she lifted her phone to show him the timer and started the countdown.