offer me the comfort I craved.
believe in yourself
Kevin Trivia: Your mom originally fancied Charlie when we first met, two days after my twenty-first. Said I was too much of a “show off.” Me?
Miscellaneous: Siblings
Your mom always wanted a large, large family and I was up for it too. Producing a soccer team of my very own (male and female)—the Waltons of South London, if you like. What I’m getting at is this: your mom might decide to have another child. Or two. I don’t know how old you’ll be if and when this happens, but I really hope, Lowey, that you’ll be mature enough to deal with it and not a) dunk its head in the toilet on a regular basis; b) dye his/her hair green just for laughs. (Charlie did that to me once. Not a good look.) I want you to remember that although she or he may not be a part of me, she’llstill be a part of YOU. By all means there’s nothing wrong with allowing them to do a few chores around the house and then claiming the credit, but it’s also up to you to look out for them, listen to their fears and be the big sister I know you can be. And if you become as close as Philomena and me, then you’re sorted. But don’t worry if you’re not. Ina and I were never close. Even now with the diagnosis and that, I have yet to see her, and on the phone things still feel a bit strained between us…but that’s another story. Having a brother or sister is great because being an only child can be lonely and I don’t want that for you.
But I was happy being “lonely.”
Had been most of my life, anyway (apart from having Dad’s Manual of course). I wasn’t about to allow this child’s imminent arrival to change anything. His or her impact on my life would be that of a feather dropped in an ocean. Never mind the constant banging as the Bingo Caller fixed up a cot in the spare room, or produced two rows of shelving over the old chest of drawers. I repeat, Mom’s kid would be making absolutely no impact on my life whatsoever.
That was until she arrived one morning in full screaming glory, wrapped in a pink and white blanket and plonked into my arms, uninvited.
We were at the hospital.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” gushed the Bingo Caller as I gazed down at my so-called “sister,” looking a bit alien-like with her tiny head snuggled against my tummy, the blanket making my skin itch.
My arm began to ache. “Yes…she’s, erm…lovely.”
Amid gushes of pride and Mom informing anyone who’dlisten just how painful the twenty-hour labor had been (and surprisingly more eventful than my thirty-hour one), my desire to escape grew stronger by the minute. But I was trapped. Forced to hold the pink and white blanket, inhale that disgusting hospital smell, while the world and his dog (minus Corey) popped in to have a look at a kid who, on closer inspection, resembled some sort of nocturnal garden creature—all wrinkly skin and oblong-shaped head. What can I say? The Sprog was nothing special, but for some reason Mom, the Bingo Caller, everyone, thought otherwise.
“She is just like you!” gushed my best friend, as the male nurse did his party trick of fluffing Mom’s pillow at the same time as staring adoringly toward Carla. Even with the Sprog in her arms, she was beautiful. Her once short cropped hair now running down her shoulders, shrouding large red lips and eyelashes as thick as falsies. She’d also grown a few inches thanks to the skyscraper-type heels she now insisted on wearing. Although she’d always been beautiful, she was now “supermodel wife of a rock star” beautiful. Cow.
“You think so?” gushed Mom.
“No, I’d go for her dad. His eyes for a start! Just like Corey and his—” said Carla’s mom as the room switched to mute, except for the sound of the male nurse still fluffing Mom’s pillow, his eyes now resting on Carla’s mom’s bosoms. The choice of two sexy women, way too much for him, clearly. A picture of Greg and Corey flashed in my mind and
believe in yourself
Kevin Trivia: Your mom originally fancied Charlie when we first met, two days after my twenty-first. Said I was too much of a “show off.” Me?
Miscellaneous: Siblings
Your mom always wanted a large, large family and I was up for it too. Producing a soccer team of my very own (male and female)—the Waltons of South London, if you like. What I’m getting at is this: your mom might decide to have another child. Or two. I don’t know how old you’ll be if and when this happens, but I really hope, Lowey, that you’ll be mature enough to deal with it and not a) dunk its head in the toilet on a regular basis; b) dye his/her hair green just for laughs. (Charlie did that to me once. Not a good look.) I want you to remember that although she or he may not be a part of me, she’llstill be a part of YOU. By all means there’s nothing wrong with allowing them to do a few chores around the house and then claiming the credit, but it’s also up to you to look out for them, listen to their fears and be the big sister I know you can be. And if you become as close as Philomena and me, then you’re sorted. But don’t worry if you’re not. Ina and I were never close. Even now with the diagnosis and that, I have yet to see her, and on the phone things still feel a bit strained between us…but that’s another story. Having a brother or sister is great because being an only child can be lonely and I don’t want that for you.
But I was happy being “lonely.”
Had been most of my life, anyway (apart from having Dad’s Manual of course). I wasn’t about to allow this child’s imminent arrival to change anything. His or her impact on my life would be that of a feather dropped in an ocean. Never mind the constant banging as the Bingo Caller fixed up a cot in the spare room, or produced two rows of shelving over the old chest of drawers. I repeat, Mom’s kid would be making absolutely no impact on my life whatsoever.
That was until she arrived one morning in full screaming glory, wrapped in a pink and white blanket and plonked into my arms, uninvited.
We were at the hospital.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” gushed the Bingo Caller as I gazed down at my so-called “sister,” looking a bit alien-like with her tiny head snuggled against my tummy, the blanket making my skin itch.
My arm began to ache. “Yes…she’s, erm…lovely.”
Amid gushes of pride and Mom informing anyone who’dlisten just how painful the twenty-hour labor had been (and surprisingly more eventful than my thirty-hour one), my desire to escape grew stronger by the minute. But I was trapped. Forced to hold the pink and white blanket, inhale that disgusting hospital smell, while the world and his dog (minus Corey) popped in to have a look at a kid who, on closer inspection, resembled some sort of nocturnal garden creature—all wrinkly skin and oblong-shaped head. What can I say? The Sprog was nothing special, but for some reason Mom, the Bingo Caller, everyone, thought otherwise.
“She is just like you!” gushed my best friend, as the male nurse did his party trick of fluffing Mom’s pillow at the same time as staring adoringly toward Carla. Even with the Sprog in her arms, she was beautiful. Her once short cropped hair now running down her shoulders, shrouding large red lips and eyelashes as thick as falsies. She’d also grown a few inches thanks to the skyscraper-type heels she now insisted on wearing. Although she’d always been beautiful, she was now “supermodel wife of a rock star” beautiful. Cow.
“You think so?” gushed Mom.
“No, I’d go for her dad. His eyes for a start! Just like Corey and his—” said Carla’s mom as the room switched to mute, except for the sound of the male nurse still fluffing Mom’s pillow, his eyes now resting on Carla’s mom’s bosoms. The choice of two sexy women, way too much for him, clearly. A picture of Greg and Corey flashed in my mind and
Similar Books
