Brilliant Jerks by Joseph Charlton

Author:Joseph Charlton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Published: 2023-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

7.

Mia I’ve driven kids before.

I hated it.

You’re not even supposed to do it.

It’s the driver’s responsibility not to. Pick up under-eighteens travelling alone.

But the thing is you cancel and get a zero rating.

Beat.

I need to go back a bit. If I’m gonna tell it properly.

Beat.

I had him when I was seventeen.

Beat.

The father – Ronan – didn’t want any involvement. He was twenty-nine.

He was involved in the sense that he knew about the adoption, and consented, but – that was it.

We met in Club-V, in Deansgate.

Taking really fucking rough pills, basically.

Beat.

We either did it in his flat, or his car.

Getting wrecked, listening to music at the same time.

The car even felt glamorous.

Beat.

I knew something was wrong just before my ASs.

Mainly it was that I was exhausted.

Pasted to the sofa, no motivation to revise or anything.

My boobs hurt.

I felt it most when I was having sex.

Beat.

I never really considered not having him.

It didn’t even seem like an option.

The case worker we met said that, actually, there were a lot of families who really wanted a baby.

Rather than a kid.

And, there was some suggestion that I’d, y’know, go on to uni.

Beat.

And … the day he was born was actually the day I went home without him.

I checked myself out of the hospital with my parents, and he was not with me.

And well – if you’re asking if I had any ‘change of heart’ moments then, yeah …

In the hospital room, alone …

I held my baby.

I counted his eyelashes.

I watched him breathe.

He looked nothing like me.

And, the thing is, I wanted to take him home then, and learn how to be a mum.

Beat.

It was quite difficult to go back. To school.

I was quite behind, and – my friends were a year ahead.

Eventually I dropped out again. I waitressed – and I ended up working in a club.

And – y’know – some people can pick up the drink and drugs, put them down again, and have an adult life.

And … some people can’t.

And that was me.

Beat.

About eight years later I got a letter.

And a picture.

I’d been driving for the company about a year on and off.

Beat.

The letter was called ‘My Weekend’.

Jesus, the handwriting was better than mine.

Beat.

He was ten, nearly.

And – saying would I like to meet, and telling me about his life.

That he’d just won his first away match, at football. And the picture had him there, outside.

Beat.

I think it’s the only post I’ve ever kept.

And.

He was amazing.

Obviously very smart. At writing.

And … had an amazing life – a lot of friends.

Beat.

I didn’t respond to the letter.

I felt like I was no good.

And … I didn’t know what to say.

Beat.

A while later – maybe not until about five months later– I got back in touch.

I was sober by this point, driving for the company, clocking as many hours as I could, and I wanted to arrange a meeting.

After three weeks I got a call back.

From the agency.

They said: the family wanted to check that I was stable.

That they didn’t want to encourage ‘erratic’ communication.

That they wanted a character reference from my employer.

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