One Day

by David Nicholls

A neat but healthy 6lbs 6ozs, and to Dexter’s mind, inexpressibly beautiful, he knew that he would sacrifice his life for her,

Life would be lived as if under Jasmine’s constant scrutiny. He would never do anything that might cause her pain or anxiety or embarrassment and there would be nothing, absolutely nothing in his life to be ashamed of anymore.

‘What kind of day have you had, Jas?’ A voice from the living room. ‘I wish you wouldn’t call her that. She’s Jasmine, not Jazz.’ Sylvie lies on the dust-sheet-covered sofa, reading a magazine. ‘Jazz Mayhew is awful. Makes her sound like a saxophonist in some lesbian funk band. Jazz.’ He drapes his daughter over his shoulder and stands in the doorway. ‘Well if you’re going to name her Jasmine, she’s going to get called Jas.’ ‘I didn’t name her, we named her. And I know it’s going to happen, I’m just saying I don’t like it.’ ‘Fine, I’ll completely change the way I talk to my daughter.’ ‘Good, I’d like that.’ He stands at the end of the sofa, glances at his watch showily, and thinks A new world record! I’ve been home, what, forty-five seconds, and already I’ve done something wrong!

yaa siapa suruh mau nikah sama orang yang ngatur2 idup u? serba salah kan jadinya wkwk mamam

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’ve had an awful day.’ ‘What’s up?’ ‘She doesn’t want to sleep at all. She’s been awake all day, every single minute since five this morning.’ Dexter puts one fist on his hip. ‘Well sweetheart, if you gave her the decaff, like I told you …’ But this kind of banter doesn’t come naturally to Dexter, and Sylvie does not smile.

It’s insane, an absurd design error, this refusal to master speech just when it’s needed most.

‘I’m just bored of sitting on a sofa on a Tuesday night,’ said Sylvie, ‘while you get drunk alone,’

stop guilt tripping ya silvi!!!

There’s something unnatural about a woman finding babies or, more specifically, conversation about babies, boring. They’ll think she’s bitter, jealous, lonely. But she’s also bored of everybody telling her how lucky she is, what with all that sleep and all that freedom and spare time, the ability to go on dates or head off to Paris at a moment’s notice. It sounds like they’re consoling her, and she resents this and feels patronised by it.

When it happens, if it happens, she will adore the child, remark on its tiny hands and even the smell of its scrofulous little head. She will debate epidurals, lack of sleep, colic, whatever the hell that is. One day she might even bring herself to coo at a pair of booties. But in the meantime she’s going to keep her distance, and stay calm and serene and above it all. Having said that, the first one to call her Aunty Emma gets a punch in the face.

There’s some medicine on the shelf, on it the words ‘may cause drowsiness’ – the most beautiful words in the English language.

oh dasar emang rusak loe dex!

He bounces Jasmine on his knee until she’s a little quieter, then puts the loaded spoon to her lips until he judges that 5ml has been swallowed.

RUSAK LOE DEXTER!

‘You’d better get back to your party.’ ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ ‘I love you.’ ‘You too.’ And she is gone.

she never really loves him, isn't she?

Callum belts his dressing-gown, walks back into the bedroom and leans at the waist to kiss her bare shoulder.

THIS MOTHET FUFKRT SYLVIE ARE YOU KIDDING???? DEX FUCKINH LOVE YOU MAN WTH ARE YOU DOIN WITH OTHER GUY TF!!!

‘You’re a healthy, capable, financially stable moderately attractive father in your mid-to-late-thirties. You’re … alright, Dex. You just need to get your confidence back, that’s all.’

wow Em.. after all this time and you still love him..

‘My flat’s about twenty minutes away in that direction. We can walk, or get a taxi …’ She went to stand, but Dexter didn’t move. ‘The worst of it is I really miss Jasmine.’ Emma sat again. ‘I mean it’s sending me insane and it’s not even like I was a good dad or anything.’ ‘Oh come on—’ ‘I wasn’t, Em, I was useless, completely. I resented it, I didn’t want to be there. All the time we were pretending we were this perfect family, I always thought this is a mistake, this isn’t for me. I used to think wouldn’t it be great to sleep again, to go away for the weekend, or just go out, stay up late, have fun. To be free, to have no responsibilities. And now I’ve got all of that back, and all I do is sit with my stuff still in cardboard boxes and miss my daughter.’ ‘But you still see her.’ ‘Once a fortnight, one lousy overnight stay.’ ‘But you could see her more, you could ask for more time—’ ‘And I would! But even now you can see the fear in her eyes when her mum drives off; don’t leave me here with this weird sad freak! I buy her all these presents, it’s pathetic, there’s a great pile of them every time she arrives, it’s like Christmas morning every time, because if we’re not opening presents I don’t know what to do with her. If we’re not opening presents she’ll just start crying and asking for Mummy, by which she means Mummy and that bastard Callum, and I don’t even know what to buy her, because every time I see her she’s different. You turn your back for one week, ten days and ...

Em, im sorry you have to go through this

She sighed. ‘We’ve known each other a long time, Dex.’ ‘I know. I just thought it might be a good idea. Dex and Em, Em and Dex, the two of us. Just try it for a while, see how it worked. I had thought that’s what you wanted too.’ ‘It is. It was. Back in the late Eighties.’ ‘So why not now?’ ‘Because. It’s too late. We’re too late. I’m too tired.’ ‘You’re thirty-five!’ ‘I just feel our time has passed, that’s all,’ she said. ‘How do you know, unless we give it a try?’ ‘Dexter – I have met someone else!’

Emma finally sighed. ‘Why didn’t you say all this, I don’t know – eight years ago?’ ‘Don’t know, too busy trying to have … fun, I suppose.’ She lifted her head to look at him sideways. ‘And now you’ve stopped having fun, you think “good old Em, give her a go—”’ ‘That’s not what I meant—’ ‘I’m not the consolation prize, Dex. I’m not something you resort to. I happen to think I’m worth more than that.’ ‘And I think you’re worth more than that too. That’s why I came here. You’re a wonder, Em.’

telek dex..

She looked up at him. ‘I thought I’d finally got rid of you.’ ‘I don’t think you can,’ he said.

And so another weekday begins, like the one before and the ones to come. They get up and get dressed, Emma drawing on the limited store of clothes she keeps jammed into her allocated cupboard. He has the first shower, she has the second, during which time he walks to the shop and buys the newspaper and milk if necessary. He reads the sports pages, she the news and then after breakfast, eaten for the most part in comfortable silence, she takes her bike from the hallway and pushes it with him towards the tube. Each day they kiss each other goodbye at approximately eight twenty-five.

Emma’s presence helped. Dexter’s father liked Emma, and for the first time in some years found himself liking his son because of her.

He pulls them up, unlocks the door and feels, what? Content? Happyish? No, happy. Secretly, and for the first time in many years, he is proud of himself.

Beside her, Callum swears at the traffic on the Marylebone Road and Sylvie feels intense resentment at the happiness of others, combined with misery at finding herself on the wrong team for once. Sadness too, at how ugly and ungracious and spiteful all of these thoughts are. After all, it was she who left Dexter and who broke his heart.

mamam

Finally together, whirlwind romance nearly 15 years, finally makes sense. All friends said told you so. Happier than ever been.

‘Tell me again, why is there no television here?’ ‘We’re meant to make our own entertainment. Come back to bed and talk to me.’

‘I’m getting fat,’ he mumbled, mouth full of foam. ‘No you’re not,’ she said without much conviction. ‘I am – look.’ ‘So don’t eat so much cheese then,’ she said. ‘I thought you said I wasn’t getting fat.’ ‘If you feel you are, then you are.’

‘What’s it got to do with the students?’ he said, mildly enough, he thought. ‘It’s traditional, isn’t it? That students are politically engaged. If we were still students, we’d be protesting.’ She went back to the paper. ‘I would anyway.’ She was provoking him. Fine, if that’s what she wanted. ‘So why aren’t you?’ She looked at him sharply. ‘What?’ ‘Protesting. If you feel so strongly.’ ‘That’s exactly my point. Maybe I should be! That was exactly my observation! If there was some kind of cohesive movement …’

‘Or maybe it’s because people don’t mind.’ ‘What?’ She looked at him, eyes narrowed. ‘The war. I mean if people were really affronted by it there’d be protests, but maybe people are glad that he’s gone. I don’t know if you noticed, Em, but he wasn’t a very nice man …’ ‘You can be glad Saddam’s gone and still be against the war.’ ‘That’s my point. It’s ambiguous, isn’t it?’

‘I tell you what this is really about. You’ve had your period and you’re angry about it and you’re taking it out on me! Well I don’t like being harangued while I’m trying to eat my breakfast!’ ‘I’m not haranguing you—’ ‘Arguing then—’ ‘We’re not arguing, we’re discussing—’ ‘Are we? Because I’m arguing—’ ‘Calm down, Dex—’ ‘The war wasn’t my idea, Em! I didn’t order the invasion, and I’m sorry, but I don’t feel as strongly about it as you do. Maybe I should, maybe I will, but I don’t. I don’t know why, maybe I’m too stupid or something—’ Emma looked startled. ‘Where did that come from? I didn’t say you were—?’ ‘But you treat me like I am. Or like I’m this right-wing nut because I don’t spout platitudes about The War. I swear, if I sit at one more dinner party and hear someone say “It’s all about the oil”! Maybe it is, so what? Either protest about that, or stop using oil or accept it and shut the fuck up!’

‘We’ve only been trying for eighteen months, Em.’ ‘Two years.’ ‘Two years then. I don’t know, I just hate that … look you give me.’ ‘What look?’ ‘When it doesn’t work, like it’s my fault.’ ‘I don’t!’ ‘That’s what it feels like.’ ‘I’m sorry. I apologise. I’m just … disappointed. I really want it, that’s all.’ ‘So do I!’ ‘Do you?’ He looked hurt. ‘Of course I do!’ ‘Because you didn’t to begin with.’ ‘Well I do now. I love you. You know that.’

gila ya... betapa perkara gagal punya anak bisa bikin ribut sampe kemana-mana... padahal dasarnya cuma 1 kecewa...

Grief has made an idiot of Dexter Mayhew once again, and why should he impose this on his friends? Best just stick with strangers tonight. And so he waves goodbye and orders the taxi onto a bleak, shuttered side street off Farringdon Road, and Nero’s night-club.

Emma always loved you, very, very much. For many years this caused me a great deal of pain and jealousy. I used to overhear your phone-calls and watch you together at parties, and she always lit up and sparkled with you in a way she never did with me. I’m ashamed to say I used to read her notebooks when she was out, and they were full of you and your friendship and I couldn’t bear it. To be honest, mate, I didn’t think you deserved her, but then I don’t think any of us deserved her really. She was always going to be the smartest, kindest, funniest, loyalest person we would ever meet, and the fact of her not being here well it just isn’t right.

Anniversaries like this are hard for all of us, for her family and you especially, but I hate this date, and will always hate this day every year from now on whenever it comes round.

well.. i hate 15 july too

In the years he was with Emma he sometimes wondered idly what life would be like if she weren’t around; not in a morbid way, just pragmatically, speculatively, because don’t all lovers do this? Wonder what he would be without her? Now the answer is in the mirror. Loss has not endowed him with any kind of tragic grandeur, it has just made him stupid and banal. Without her he is without merit or virtue or purpose, a shabby, lonely, middle-aged drunk, poisoned with regret and shame.

‘We do all love you, Dexter.’ ‘No reason why you should,’ he mumbles, embarrassed. ‘No, maybe not. But we do.’

aww:"(

His father smiles and glances back at him. ‘I really don’t want to have a heart-to-heart. Do you?’ ‘I’d rather not.’ ‘Well let’s not then. Let’s just say that I think the best thing you could do is try and live your life as if Emma were still here. Don’t you think that would be best?’ ‘I don’t know if I can.’ ‘Well you’ll have to try.’ He reaches for the remote control. ‘What do you think I’ve been doing for the last ten years?’

They sit and watch the TV in the light of the summer evening, in the room full of family photographs and to his embarrassment Dexter finds that he is crying once again, very quietly. Discreetly, he puts his hand to his eyes, but his father can hear the catching of his breath and glances over. ‘Everything alright there?’ ‘Sorry,’ says Dexter. ‘Not my cooking, is it?’ Dexter laughs and sniffs. ‘Still a bit drunk, I think.’ ‘It’s alright,’ says his father, turning back to the TV. ‘Silent Witness is on at nine.’

oh father i love you...

These days grief seems like walking on a frozen river; most of the time he feels safe enough, but there is always that danger that he will plunge through.

She inhaled, as if gathering her thoughts, then spoke. ‘I don’t want you thinking that I’m bothered or anything. I mean, what happened last night, I know it was only ’cause you were drunk …’ ‘Emma …’ ‘Let me finish, will you? But I had a really nice time anyway. I’ve not done a lot of … that kind of thing. I’ve not made a study of it, not like you, but it was nice. I think you’re nice, Dex, when you want to be. And maybe it’s just bad timing or whatever, but I think you should head off to China or India or wherever and find yourself, and I’ll get on quite happily with things here. I don’t want to come with you, I don’t want weekly postcards, I don’t even want your phone number. I don’t want to get married and have your babies either, or even have another fling. We had one really, really nice night together, that’s all. I’ll always remember it. And if we bump into each other sometime in the future at a party or something, then that’s fine too. We’ll just have a friendly chat. We won’t be embarrassed ’cause you’ve had your hand down my top and there’ll be no awkwardness and we’ll be, whatever, “cool” about it, alright? Me and you. We’ll just be … friends. Agreed?’ ‘Alright. Agreed.’

duh.. em..

‘Do you miss her?’ ‘Who? Emma? Of course. Every day. She was my best friend.’

As they stumbled down the hill she began to feel regret creeping up on her, and realised she didn’t want him to go yet. A second night. She wanted one more night at least, so that they could finish what they had started. How might she say that? She couldn’t of course. Fainthearted as usual, she had left it too late. In the future, I’ll be braver, she told herself. In the future, I will always speak my mind, eloquently, passionately.

DUH... EM...!!!

‘So. I should get back. Are you sure you don’t want to come for a drink or something? Or dinner?’ ‘I don’t think I should,’ she said. ‘No, I don’t think you should either.’ He looked relieved and she felt slighted once again. Why not? she thought. Was he embarrassed by her? ‘Oh. Right. Why’s that?’ ‘Because I think if you did I’d go a bit mad. With frustration, I mean. You sitting there. Because I wouldn’t be able to do what I want to do.’ ‘Why? What do you want to do?’ she asked, though she knew the answer. He put one hand lightly on the back of her neck, and simultaneously she placed one hand lightly on his hip, and they kissed in the street as all around them people hurried home in the summer light, and it was the sweetest kiss that either of them would ever know.