Page 75 of The Notecard
‘It’s going to be okay, Keri, we’ll sort it out. I promise it will be okay.’
‘But I can’t be a mum. Remember when I bought that rubber tree plant from Homebase, and the man said it was impossible to kill, and then I killed it? I can’t be a mum because I can’t even keep a plant alive that Homebase said I couldn’t kill. And that was a plant. I can’t be a mum to an actual, live baby human being, Megs, I just can’t.’
I ask her how it happened, when it happened, and she thinks it was the day of the Joe Thomas personal best. Nine times. Apparently they were a bit loose with the condoms towards the end, and Keri isn’t on the pill because her body doesn’t like it. She missed her last period but thought nothing of it because she’s always had irregular periods, but when she missed it again she did the test and that’s when she discovered she was pregnant.
I’m about to tell her again that it’s going to be okay, and I’ll be here for her, even though technically I won’t because I’m going away in two days, when there’s a knock at my door. A loud knock. It’s 7:31am. I get up and answer. It’s Laura. She’s fully dressed. She looks angry.
‘It’s past seven-thirty,’ says Laura. ‘The first thing on the schedule and you’re already late. You have to follow the schedule, Megs, or the whole day is going to be a disaster. I just don’t understand you. Are you trying to ruin my big day? Do you want to make me cry before breakfast because if you do, good fucking start!’
Laura storms off, presumably to have breakfast. I have to go after her.
‘I have to go, but I promise I’ll call you later,’ I say to Keri.
‘Okay,’ says Keri, sniffling, crying, and sounding absolutely distraught.
I put my shoes on, grab my phone, room key, and then I run after Laura.
7:34am. Laura is annoyed.
Keri is pregnant.
My hair is pink.
Nick
My flat is packed up and ready to go. It’s a strange feeling. Not because of the flat or that I’m moving because I have moved plenty of times over the past ten years. It’s strange because when I moved back to London, I didn’t think I’d be moving out again so soon. And especially not to Nottingham. I have a weird feeling about this move, as if my time in London was rushed, and I’m not quite done here. And yet I am. The movers will be here at nine o’clock. Mum and Michael are coming over later, and Rob and Fee said they’d drop by. At the moment it’s just me, sitting on my sofa, eating a bowl of cereal, and drinking a cup of coffee.
In true medical fashion, I worked a twelve-hour shift yesterday. I’ll be starting my new job in two days. That’s how long I get to move to a different part of the country. I’m uprooting everything and starting over, and I get two days. I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Nurses start at the hospital all the time, and some of them got to London the night before and they’re staying in shitty bedsits, and they don’t even know London. I’m excited for Nottingham. It’s a chance to put down some roots. I’ve been looking at buying a house. The cost of housing compared to London is ridiculously cheap, and with my new role comes a new salary. I’ll be able to afford an actual house. A house with more than one bedroom and a garden. The only problem is that I’ll still be living in it by myself. Maybe I’ll get a housemate. There are always junior doctors on the lookout for cheap accommodation.
The whole Meg thing just died out. It fizzled, and then like a cheap firework that disappointed the waiting crowd, nothing happened. Sex wise. I’m not sure I ever got over that. We had our one night and it was a disaster. There were moments when we sparkled, when we threatened to explode, but it just didn’t quite happen. When I analyse it (and I have analysed it to within an inch of its life) it feels like one of those relationships (not technically a relationship) that just wasn’t meant to be. We have chemistry, we definitely fancy each other, and we have that spark when we talk. But it didn't work, and that’s the key. When you meet people who are married, or happily living together in unmarried bliss, and you ask them.
‘How did you know they were the one?’
They always reply with the same line.
‘I just knew.’
I mean, it’s fine. If people truly believe that, then good luck to them. And perhaps when I’m finally married and I get asked the same question, I’ll say, ‘I just knew’. The whole thing just feels a bit too convenient. A bit too, in hindsight. It’s easy to say, ‘I just knew’ about anything after the fact. It’s like when you watch an interview with a major Hollywood celebrity, and they talk about their career, as if it was all planned out. All meant to be. And why did they all come to Hollywood with only ten dollars in their pockets? Did none of them have any savings? They repeat the same cliché about believing it would happen, following their dreams, and it’s meant to inspire young actors that yes, if you come to Hollywood with ten dollars and really believe in yourself, it will happen for you too. But that isn’t the reality. Most people that go to Los Angeles to ‘make it’ don’t. Most of them end up working in restaurants for years, hoping for their big break, and when it doesn’t come, they end up working in normal jobs, telling anyone who will listen about the years they spent trying to be an actor and that one audition when it almost happened for them. It’s always easy to say ‘I just knew’ in hindsight, but what about when it’s actually happening?
I’m thinking about Meg. Today’s the day of Laura’s wedding. The crazy sister. I wonder how it’s going. A part of me wants to text her, wish her luck, but I think it’s best I don’t. She’s off travelling in two days. The same day I start work in Nottingham. Two people who were in bed together in their underwear, so close to being together, are setting off in two very different directions. Sometimes you can’t beat fate. I don’t know if I believe in it. Is everything just meant to be or not? If Meg and I are fated to be, we’ll be. I’ll do nothing and eventually we’ll end up together. I’m no life expert, but I’m fairly sure that isn’t true.
I finish my cereal, then head outside for a cigarette with my coffee. It’s still early. Before eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. It’s nice out. They’ve forecast sunshine all day. I stand at the top of the steps that lead down to the pavement and light up my cigarette. I stand here and think about all the times I stood here with Meg. I’ll miss these cigarettes. I’m smoking, drinking my coffee, and the street is quiet, when suddenly, I see the fox. I saw it a while ago. He’s just trotting along. I’m surprised to see him up and about this time of the day. He must be hungry. Maybe not. Perhaps he just fancied a walk. He sees me and stops. We look at each other. God, it’s amazing to connect with a wild animal like this. He’s twenty feet away. He’s looking at me and I’m looking at him. It lasts for perhaps thirty seconds, and then he decides I’m not going to harm him, and he goes about his day. He walks off and into someone’s garden. It was a nice little goodbye.
I finish my cigarette and head indoors to get ready. I have to take a shower before I pack up the last of the boxes. I have just under an hour until the movers arrive. I have to say goodbye to Dotty. I shall miss her. Like an older female Simon Cowell, she almost changed my life.
Meg
‘Imean, pink, Megs, honestly. Why would you do it? I just don’t understand,’ says Laura.
We’re in Laura’s room and she’s getting her make-up done. Mum and I are in bathrobes after our massages. We’re sipping on Prosecco and Laura can’t stop talking about my pink hair.
‘It was a bit selfish, Megs,’ says Mum. ‘You could have waited a day or two.’
‘I was drunk,’ I say defensively.
‘And so because you couldn’t control yourself, I have to have pink hair in my wedding photos. The photos I’ll have my entire life. I’m so angry with you, Megs,’ says Laura before she turns to Cindy. ‘Is that the foundation colour we agreed upon, Cindy, because it doesn’t look like warm peach to me? It looks an awful lot like cool coconut.’
‘It’s probably just the light,’ says Cindy nervously, the official makeup artist for the wedding.
