Chapter 4 – Again, but this time with syllables.

This chapter has been my favourite to write so far – I love Milly and Jason, they work so well together! They remind me of the relationship I have with my brother, but waaaay more exaggerated. Also – I always crack up re-reading this. Okay, laughing at your own jokes make me a sign of lameness, but what’re gonna do about it?

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Jason stormed the streets of Hoxton (the poor part as the trendies had left long ago, taking away most of the money but leaving some nice flats behind) as he tried to sort out his head. Okay, Susan was dead – he didn’t say it out loud, but it did hurt. He’d hoped that he might meet her again and that somehow they’d fall in love again, as people hope, but it was obviously not to be. However, it did turn out that she’d had his child, something which he’d hoped he’d have been around for, but again, it didn’t work out that way. But what was bending his mind, apart from the prospect that he’d been going out with girls barely older than his own daughter, which he hadn’t known at the time, was the fact that she now wanted to be a part of his life. No, scrap that, she now wanted him to be a part of her life.

Jason slumped down on a bench and sighed. He wasn’t good at this being sensitive to other people thing. He wasn’t particularly good at living his own life thing either – sure he’d made a load of cash, but he hadn’t become a sex God, and he didn’t have his own palace yet. He should have followed Orson Wells’s example and built his own autocracy like that man did in that movie he was in. What was it now…Labyrinth? No, it wasn’t labyrinth, that was David Bowie, but he ought to have least go people to write songs about him.

Jason looked around at the people going up and down the streets and did what he always did at times of crisis – he phoned Milly to annoy her and therefore amuse himself.

He took out the phone and autodialed her house. The phoned was picked up, predictably, by Milly.

“Who is it?” she asked, out of breath.

“It’s Jason, I need your…what the hell is that sound! It sounds…moist.” Jason shuddered.

“Jason, I’m making cakes and biscuits.”Milly sighed, the sound of a spoon mixing cake batter in a bowl slowing down, “I’ve got a group of six year olds coming over later.”

“So, why don’t you just buy some cakes and biscuits? It’s what known to some people as time saving.” Explained Jason slowly.

“Jason, did you miss out on the ‘multiple number of six year old’s’ part of my comment? I might as well give them amphetamines. And I like my Carpet where it is – on the floor. Anyway, you must have some reason to ring me. Lizzie get back to you yet?”

“Yeah, later…Milly, do you remember Susan. Susan Finn?”

“Yes, I do. After she dumped you…”

“…it was a mutual break up Goddamit!” cursed Jason.

“After she dumped you I lost contact with her…I miss her…Jason, she hasn’t called you up again has she?”

“It might be a bit difficult…she’s dead.”

The mixing sound stopped. Milly had obviously put the bowl down and said quietly, “Jason…that’s terrible…how long ago, who told you?”

“Her daughter.” Said Jason, “Who found my house today.”

“Her daughter?” said Milly, slightly shocked, “I didn’t know she’d had a child. The poor child must have been terribly upset.”

“It was nothing compared to the look on her face when she told me I was her father.”

There was a moment of silence. A wooden spoon dropped. Stunned silence. Then a clear, sharp “what?”

“Err…This Kid came to my house, said Susan was dead and that she, as in the kid, was the result of…both of us. Together.”

More stunned silence. “Jason, you better not be winding me up, or there will be blood on the walls tonight.”

“I’m not. Really, I wouldn’t make this stuff up.”

“I have to ask – how come this kid thinks that you’re her father. I mean, I don’t doubt your….well, I have to ask.”

“Apparently my name was on the birth certificate. And she had a picture of me. Oh, and apparently Susan was a psycho – freak who was trying to make sure her child had as best a chance in the gene pool as possible.”

“And out of all the men she chose, she chose you?” gasped Milly, “If you’re the best she could come up with, then I fear what lurks at the bottom.”

“Strangely enough, that’s what the girl said to me today.” Sighed Jason. “Look, I can’t help being a perfect specimen of humanity – all I need is your advice on this.”

The sound of cake mixture started again. “Jason I really don’t have much experience of this…..”

“Milly, you wrote a short story about this when you were fifteen, you’ve got more experience then I have!”

“Jason…I wrote that in my diary! As a metaphor!”

“You were never good at hiding things…it was put in such an obvious place, you’d almost think you wanted people to read it!”

“Jason, those were my teenage ramblings! How could you read it! You sick, messed up bastard!”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who fantasised about having sex with Orson Wells was I?”

“Jason, I admired him as a film maker…” explained Milly Angrily.

“…That’s not what your Diary said.” Grinned Jason evilly.

“Fuck you – “

“That’s what you wanted him to do…”

“Jason – if you ever want me to speak to you again, you might want to shut up now.” Milly heard an egg time go off. She put the phone on her shoulder, holding it in place with her head and put on a pair of oven gloves. “Okay –rephrase that – if you don’t want to be the first castrati for over a hundred years, you might want to shut up.”

Jason examined the options. “Okay, but can you help me? I mean, what the hell am I going to do?”

“Jason it’s perfectly normal for this to happen nowadays. With the pressure to get into good schools and universities many women opt to forgo partnerships with men, or simply talk it over with them, and use the sperm of genetically superior men. Y’know, noble prize winners, those with high IQ’s, artists, musicians, you get the idea. One of those sperm companies keeps contacting Peter!”

“I always wondered why you went for him, and now I know…”

“Jason, catrati!”

“Oh yeah…but why not go with one of the companies?”

“Do you know how much they charge? If Peter joined, we’d be living in luxury all for a test tube a month.” Milly said, taking a tray of cranberry and blueberry flapjacks out of the oven.

“Well, maybe I should join – I’d certainly be better than Him. I’ve already been picked by choice!”

“Susan didn’t have much money Jason, she didn’t have much choice. It was either you or that Web – comic guy who had the spots. And he had a Higher IQ.”

“What? Was she cheating on me with Kevin…that low down dirty…”

“Err, no…” said Milly unconvincingly as she closed the oven door and poured the flapjacks onto the tray next to the tray of cookies she’d done earlier, “anyway, what other evidence does she have?”

“Nothing, apart from the fact that it’s what Susan always told her. By the way – she says she wants to move in with me out of her care home!”

“Jason – I’d ask ‘what the hell is going on’ but I don’t think I’d like the answer. This is serious – if a child…why was she allowed to go around London on her own anyway?”

“She’s seventeen Milly, I think they let them have a little freedom.”

“Jason, this is serious! If an unknown teenager comes to your house saying you’re the dad, they’re probably out for money – do you have any way of contacting her?”

“Yeah, her mobile number.”

“Could you arrange a time to meet her? I’ll come with you, make sure she’s who she says she is.” Milly reached into a cabinet and pulled out a packet of cup cake holders. ”If she’s yours she’s going to have to learn to live with the shame of sharing your genes…”

“Oi!” exclaimed Jason, feeling insulted

“Something which shames me every day.” Replied Milly sadly, before perking up and saying “If she’s just a gold-digger I’m going to take her teenage ass and give it the kicking only I can give.”

Jason laughed, and fell silent for a second. Then, not sure how to ask he said, “Milly, I was thinking – remember when you were just pregnant with your kid, err…”

“Nathan, yes, I was pregnant for nine months. I remember it well. I think the morning sickness and the expanding waistline were a give away”

“Y’know when you went for the scan, and you thought that Nathan had inherited your…problem, and then Peter’s weird thing.” Jason paused for breath, “Why on earth did you decide not to correct it?”

“The hair-lip that keeps turning up in his family?”

“Yeah, the one his Cousin got.”

“The Cousin you kept taunting until he punched you in the face repeatedly?” said Milly through gritted teeth as she put the cup-cake cups out onto the tray, “at our wedding?”

“Yeah.”

“I suppose…I suppose, “Milly paused for a second and said, “I wasn’t middle class enough to think it’d be a problem.”

“How come?”

“Jason, you were the one who wanted me to abort Nathan before the scan. You’re hardly like to understand.”

“Please Milly, I do wanna know.”

“I suppose I loved Nathan and Peter enough to think that those things weren’t important. I mean, as long as he could grow up to have a life of his own, I didn’t really care. He was ours.” Milly started to spoon the mixture into the cups, “But he was born…normal. No “problem” as you put it, no hair-lip, turned out the reading wasn’t as accurate as they make out. We’re glad we didn’t try to correct it in the womb. If we had, the gene therapy would have killed him.”

Jason was quiet for a moment before he giggled and aid, “He he – you said ‘make out!’ ”

“Jason, ring me again when you reach puberty.”

“Okay, ring you later Milly. Failing that, I’ll tell you what this girl says.”

“I’ve got to go pick up Nathan in half an hour – tell me how it goes tonight. Love you Jason.”

Jason turned off the phone and sighed. Milly had been a whole lot of good – he’d hoped she’d have been able to sort this all out for him, but unfortunately she’d been too selfish. He’d have to cope alone, alone with this problem…Jason cursed loudly and spectacularly as a house-dad and three year old went past from play group. He’d have to go it alone. He forced himself to get up and walked down the street contriving to radiate hatred.

“Daddy,” asked the three year old, “what’s a mutherf…”

“They’re words you won’t repeat to your other Dad.” He interrupted quickly, “now come on, or you’ll be late for Daddy’s ‘pride’ meeting.”

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Okay – in this world I’m writing, people don’t have problems with homosexuals, so if you don’t like it, go and do something pro-active about it, or even rant at me and try ot change my deeply-entrenched view that homosexuals are just people who love others – like everyone else, but for some reason some people have problems with it.

Oh well, I’ll get off my soapbox and hope you people read and review this stuff.