“You know that’s not what it’s like. There isn’t and never will be anything between us. As you know, Martin has a soft spot for…”
“Dicks.”
“If you want to put it like that.”
“Just be careful, Chris. I know Martin can be pretty shitty when he wants to be.”
“That’s not true,” I defend him, just as I always do. “Martin’s a good guy, and a good dad.”
“Sure…”
“Oh, come on! I don’t have to justify myself to you,” I snap at her, raising my voice and going to hide out in the back.
Sometimes I hate how well Vic knows me, how much access she has to my most intimate secrets – ones I wouldn’t even tell my own reflection in the mirror. But she’s my best friend, along with my sister, and they’re the only two people that have stood by me through everything that’s happened. Well, I guess my family have been there too, even though it took them a while to accept everything. Besides, it’s not every day that your sixteen-year-old daughter comes home and tells you she’s pregnant.
That’s more or less how it went.
Martin and I have known each other since we were at school. He was in the year above me, but we saw each other a lot for PE classes and school assemblies. It was easy for me to let him in. I was a cheerful girl, always ready to make friends – so, one day, when he sat himself down next to me, I didn’t bat an eyelid before launching into a conversation.
We dated for a few months. We were basically a couple. Martin was, and still is, a really good-looking guy, charming and smooth-talking. The kind of guy that women – and men – go crazy for. He was also an athlete, with a defined physique and an amazing arse. Who would’ve resisted him?
The day he passed his driver’s test he invited me out for a drive in his car. I never thought anything more of it, but that’s how it happened. We had sex in the back seat of his brand-new car; it was the first time for both of us. At the time, it didn’t seem strange to me that he was still a virgin, so I didn’t ask questions. He didn’t really know what he was doing – to be honest, neither of us did – and it was an absolute disaster. I still remember it really well.
About six weeks after our one and only encounter, I found out I was pregnant. I was shocked, terrified of telling my parents, but I knew that he and I could get through it together. I thought he’d stay with me, that we’d get married and live happily ever after, with maybe a few bumps in the road towards the beginning, but nothing we couldn’t smooth over.
We met up behind the playground after school. I sat down on the step and, without looking at him said, plainly: “I’m pregnant.”
His response, after a series of swear words that I don’t want to repeat, was unexpected, to say the least.
“I’m gay.”
It looked like Martin was going through a phase of being confused by his sexuality. He told me he liked me, that I was cute, funny, and he liked being with me, but that I helped him understand that he just wasn’t attracted to women in that way.
“So why the hell did we have sex?”
“Because I wanted to…or, at least, I thought I wanted to.”
I wasn’t really angry at him. I was angrier with myself, for being stupid enough to get myself into this situation alone.
“I won’t abandon you,” he told me. “Just because I don’t like women doesn’t mean that we can’t raise this baby together.”
And I believed him. I really thought we could do it, that we could’ve been a family anyway and that maybe, being close to us, he could love us both one day. I still hope that’ll happen, even though I don’t admit it to anyone. Martin will always be the first man I gave myself to, the first man I ever loved, and most importantly, he’ll always be my son’s father. I could never stop loving him.
I still love him, but it’s a different kind of love. And until I stop letting him breeze in and out of our lives as he pleases, until I stop comparing every man I meet to him, I don’t think I’ll ever have much hope in finding someone to wake up next to, someone to hold me close for a whole night.
