Rules of the Game

How did I get here?

I glance at my watch but it’s too dark to see the face. I can feel my knees creaking and I pray that the sound doesn’t travel.

I can’t even be sure how long I’ve been crouching for - five, ten, twenty minutes? An hour, maybe? My bladder will tell me eventually, and then I’ll be in real trouble.

At least it’s not cold, I guess. Winters can be brutal around here, but we’re still in Autumn for now so I’m just on the right side of uncomfortable.

I check my watch again, and I’m annoyed that I forgot I can’t see it. It’s exactly this sort of lack of attention to detail that got me into this mess.

Of course, it’s all because of a woman.

Must be almost a decade ago now. Easily over ten years. I had so much more energy back then; I’d regularly run for more than just the bus.

But I can still remember her so clearly, the scent of her, the feel of the hairs on the back of my hand as her fingers brushed accidentally-on-purpose against mine.

That frisson of excitement at the possibilities that the future held out for us. For me.

Now that future is my life.

But then… then it was everything.

“Am I reading that right?” I said to the bartender, pointing at the menu. “A pint?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“This I’ve gotta see. One pint, please.”

“No problem.”

I took the drinks and headed back to the table where she was waiting. It was all I could do to keep the shit-eating grin off my face.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing.” I said, as reassuringly as I could.

“No, I’m not buying that. What’ve you done?”

“It’ll be a surprise. Hopefully one that you like.”

“How do you know what I like?”

Shit, I thought, what if she doesn’t like it? I don’t know that she’ll like it, of course I don’t. What woman would? Have I fucked it up before it’s even begun?

“Well, well, well,” I stuttered, “that’ll be my surprise.”

She considered this a moment. Good save, bell-end.

She smiled. And in that moment I was smitten. We drank, we chatted, we connected. This could really be something, I thought. I realised then that I wasn’t having to even try with her. Dating in London was a minefield of apps and swiping and playing fields to plough furrows and spread seeds. I’ve no idea why there are so may farming metaphors at play here, but there we are. But with her, none of that mattered. It was just her, and me, and everyone else in the bar just melted away to nothingness.

“Here you are, sir”

The bartender placed the glass on the table.

“What the fuck is this?!” She picked up the glass by the handle, examining it closely.

I’d completely forgotten I’d ordered it. My palms sweated profusely.

“Are they… sausage rolls?”

I scanned her face for a hint of an emotion - was that amusement? Disgust? Was she disgusted in me for even considering such a thing appropriate for a date?

“I saw it on the menu up there, and I couldn’t resist.”

I crossed my fingers.

“Fucking get in, I’m starving!”

She plucked one from the top, drowned it headfirst into the saucer of ketchup, and chomped it down.

I laughed, and realised I hadn’t been breathing. I reached out to take one for myself. She pulled the glass away from me playfully.

“I don’t think so, mate, get your own!”

I shift my weight, trying to relieve the cramp in my legs a little. This is a young man’s game alright, but I’m committed now, so I’m going to see it through. I let out a half sigh then catch myself as I hear footsteps at the door. I stiffen. I can hear them now, whispering to each other, colluding. I close my eyes, hoping that it’ll somehow enhance my other senses. Though it’s already dark in here so closing my eyes does absolutely nothing. They’re quieter now, and I can’t quite tell if it’s because they’ve moved on or because they know. My hands ball into fists, ready. But the footsteps recede into the distance, and for now, I’m safe.

“So those are my options,” I explained.

“It just feels a bit quick,” she replied. The sun poked out from the cloud it was hiding behind, bounced off her hair and into my eyes, making me squint to see her.

“I know, but I’m there half the week anyway, and, well…”

She eyed me with suspicion.

“It’s either move in with me or a bunch of Australian twentysomethings?”

“When you put it like that…”

I smiled my smile, the one she hates but can’t resist. I could see her starting to crack, the corners of her mouth twitching. I grinned wider and raised my eyebrows. She furrowed her brow in mock contempt.

“Damn you! And damn your flatmate moving in with his girlfriend, the bastard.”

She kissed me.

“The bastard,” I agreed, kissing her back.

I raised my glass.

“To the future!”

“And the end of my freedom.”

“I’ll drink to that”

I’m not sure I can feel my feet anymore, and I’m starting to wonder if this is even worth it. What was I doing, thinking that this was a good idea? I’m a grown man on the edge of forty for fuck’s sake. I shouldn’t be pissing about with this stuff, playing being all Blue Velvet or Sam Spade. Though I’d always liked the crumpled fedora look, that faded semi-alcoholic glamour. The hipsters ruined all that, of course. I could never get skinny jeans over my fat thighs. Fuck hipsters.

I push the door open a crack to sneak a peak. The light forces my pupils into retreat and it’s a couple of seconds before I can make out the vague shapes around me. God, I hate getting old. But on the plus side it looks like the coast is clear, at least for now.

Emboldened I push the door open further, and my muscles breathe a sigh of relief as I stretch out.

I prick up my ears, as much as I can as I am obviously a human man and not a fricking dog, straining for any sign of them approaching. 

Nothing yet.

I crick my neck, and the crack reverberates around, echoing off the walls.

I gasp. I can hear them pummelling towards me.

I duck back into my space, fingertips teasing the door to safety, just in time.

My heart pounds in my ears.

My heart pounded in my ears as I paced back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The stench of antiseptic mingled with the bile rising up in the back of my throat to create an unholy alliance of anxiety. I tried to peer through the frosted glass window into the arena, but I wasn't sure if I even wanted to see in the first place. I had no watch on as I'd been asked to remove all my jewellery, so I had no idea what time it was, how long I'd been there, waiting, cast off as I was, for all intents and purposes, utterly useless, my function having been fulfilled months previously. 

So my job was now to wait.

And wait.

Wait.

The door burst open to a flurry of activity. Professionals in blue spoke in fragmented jargon designed to obfuscate. For a moment I wasn't even sure they were aware that I was there. 

"Is, is, is she ok?"

They either didn't hear or didn't understand the question. 

I craned my neck over. And I caught my first glimpse of the thing that changed everything.

"It's a girl," I said, the most obvious and momentous observation of my life.

"Perfectly healthy baby girl," one of them confirmed.

I could hear her now, loud and clear and beautiful. She'd been crying this whole time: that fulsome, powerful cry of announcement. I am alive, hear me roar. 

"Is she OK?" I asked again. 

"Yes, she'll be fine. She'll be in recovery for a little bit first, but there's nothing to worry about, you'll be a family together soon. Would you like to hold your daughter?"

I nodded, words failing me completely. 

I reached out for the delicate bundle of pink rage, meconium in her brand new hair like a greasy little Elvis.  I gazed at her, and the world melted into nothingness. 

I hear giggling outside the door. They're conferring, working out the best strategy. And suddenly I'm furious.

They've had help! 

I've half a mind to storm out of here and declare a pyrrhic victory but then the door swings wide and I see their faces - laughing heartily with their whole bodies. And above them, her. 

She's smiling that smile again, the one I saw back at the bar when those sausage rolls came out. The one I saw when we moved in together, when we first got the dog, when we held our daughter together for the first time, and now, again, all these years later, as a family. 

Those words tumble from their mouths and I'm powerless to resist. Now I'm smiling, too. 

"Again, daddy, again! But this time I'm hiding."