Page 8 of The Notecard
Nick
Being an A&E doctor means I’m in a state of constant tiredness. I work twelve-hour shifts, usually longer. It isn’t the sort of job you can walk out when it’s time to go home. I have patients to check in on, charts to fill out, information to pass onto the next shift. I often work an hour or more past my twelve. Working nights are also hard. I don’t sleep well during the day. It’s too loud, too bright, and my body can’t adapt. It knows. I work on average thirteen hours a day, sleep for maybe five, and then I have six hours of actual living time. Six hours to do my washing, go food shopping, socialise (ha!), go to the gym (a rarity), and have a relationship, and it’s the last one I’ve really had a hard time with. How am I supposed to have a proper functioning relationship when I only have six hours free a day? With my current lifestyle, having a girlfriend is about as likely as climbing Mount Everest or running a marathon in under three hours. There was my relationship with Molly, but I’m not sure that was fully functioning at any point. It ended four months ago with an argument at Portobello market over an antique clock. I know that sounds unlikely, but in all honesty, it wasn’t about the clock. I love my job though. Despite the stress and the hours, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
Rob Newson and I went to primary, secondary, and sixth form together before different universities took us away from each other. He went to Leeds and I stayed in London at Queen Mary’s. After university, he moved back to London, while I was shunted around to different hospitals as part of my training. I worked in Kent, Surrey, and I moved back to London two years ago where Rob was already living with his then fiancé, and now wife, Fee. I was in Lewisham in south London, but as of two weeks ago, I’m in Kentish Town, a few streets away from Rob and Fee. Rob works in corporate law, but his real strength is in his hobbies. He makes homemade beer in his garden shed (Newson’s Brewery), he’s the self-proclaimed ‘King of the bacon sandwich’, and one summer he really got into juggling. He talked about giving up his career and becoming a street performer. Fee didn’t agree and neither did their bank manager, and juggling remains a hobby. Rob is still very much a corporate lawyer. He works near Fenchurch Street and often pops in for a drink after work.
I open the front door and there he is. Short brown hair, black glasses, and an expensive looking grey suit. Rob has always been more fashionable than me.
‘Hello, mate,’ I say. ‘Come in, but I must warn you my mum and the old lady downstairs are talking about sex toys.’
‘Oh, right,’ says Rob, who looks down or maybe he’s just tired.
‘You alright?’
‘Yeah, just something silly with Fee.’
We walk upstairs, along the hallway and back into my flat where Mum and Dotty are sitting on the sofa, and thankfully not talking about sex toys anymore. As soon as we walk in, Mum stands up. Dotty remains seated.
‘Robert,’ says Mum. ‘Good to see you.’
‘You too,’ says Rob.
‘Dotty, this is my friend, Rob,’ I say to Dotty.
‘It’s a pleasure,’ says Rob.
‘The pleasure is all mine,’ says Dotty with a twinkle in her eyes.
I offer Rob a drink and he says he’s gasping. I get him a beer from my fridge. There isn’t much in my fridge except beer and a decent selection of condiments. It’s a condiment heavy fridge. I wish I could have a beer with Rob, but that’s something else I can’t do because of my work. I can’t drink in the evening. I will grab a large latte on the way to work with an extra shot of espresso, and I’ll get another one around midnight if I have time. It’s the only thing that gets me through the night. I pass Rob a can of lager, and he instantly takes a long swig.
‘Are you married, Rob?’ says Dotty.
‘It will be a year this July,’ says Rob.
‘Fee’s a lovely girl,’ says Mum.
She’s right. Fee is wonderful. Not only is she beautiful, but she’s funny, clever, and a teacher, so she has the patience of a saint. She’s perfect for Rob. He couldn’t have picked a better wife if he’d designed one himself. I was the best man at their wedding, and it was one of the happiest days of my life. Rob sits down on the sofa next to Dotty, which seems to make her happy. Mum sits down, and I sit in my chair opposite them. I look at Mum, and I’m still having a hard time with the idea of her dating. I know I shouldn’t because it’s been ten years, but there’s something about us together, me and Mum, that has kept me going. She has needed me. I have taken on Dad’s role in the family dynamic, and the thought of losing that means facing up to my feelings about Dad again. I know all the psychology behind it. Change is coming, and it’s something I need to get used to. Something I need to embrace rather than be terrified about, etc... I want Mum to be happy. I suppose I’m just afraid of the changes it will bring.
‘What’s happening with you and Fee?’ I say to Rob.
‘You can talk about it with us,’ says Dotty. She pats his knee and gives it a squeeze.
‘Actually, it might be good to get a female perspective. We had a silly argument, and now she isn’t talking to me,’ says Rob, who takes a swig of his beer before carrying on. ‘So Fee and I are trying for a baby…’
‘Wait, what?’ I say. ‘You’re trying for a baby?’
This is news to me.
‘Yeah, we are,’ says Rob with a contented smile.
‘Since when?’
‘Since we agreed we’re ready to be parents,’ says Rob.
I’m blown away. I suppose I shouldn’t be because they’ve been together for five years, engaged for two, married for nearly one, it’s the next logical step. It’s just, Rob will be a dad and I’ll still be a single doctor living in a flat by himself. I had a similar feeling when they got married. A feeling that life all around me is moving on, changing, and that mine is stuck in a weird stasis. Now it’s happening again. First Mum and now Rob. I’m expecting Dotty to come out with some big news next. She’s taking a classic GAP Year and heading off to Southeast Asia.
‘What did you do wrong, dear?’ says Dotty.
‘I had a few drinks last night after work, and when I got home, Fee was angry with me because apparently we’d agreed to try. She’s ovulating. She has an app on her phone. Anyway, I said we still could, and she said, and I quote, ‘I’m not going to conceive our baby with you shit-faced’. Then she asked me to quit drinking while we try for a baby. I said no, and that was it. She’s annoyed and having a baby is suddenly on hold, but I want to keep trying. I just don’t think I need to quit alcohol to do it.’
