Fatherhood

"Hi, Mr Robinson? It's Jamie, Jake's -"

Mr Robinson laughed.

"I know who you are, Tom's always talking about you. What can I do for
you? Nothing up with Jake is there?"

"No," I said, already feeling more relaxed, "no, Mr R - er, Tony. It's
just, this father and sons match - well - I'm sure you know the
situation here, and I know I don't come to training very often, or in
fact - hah! - at all, but I really would, ah, I really would,
ummm?

"You'd like to play?"

"Well, yes. I don't know. What do you think? Would it possible?"

There was a pause as he considered. I heard him sucking his
teeth.

"Have you ever played before?"

"Um? no. Not really. Well, not since school. Junior school, I mean. In
the err, playground. With a tennis ball?"

I squeezed my eyes shut and felt my cheeks burning. This was more than
a little embarrassing.

Jakey looked up at me, hopping from foot to foot. He pulled on my
t-shirt as I shushed him. He was making it difficult for me to hear Mr
Robinson's decision.

*** *** ***

It was the colour that tipped me off. Pastel pink. He'd wedged it down
between a couple of cans with the corner just about sticking up.
Exactly the same colour as the notes I used to hide. Notes about
detention, or missing homework, or being put on report. I hovered over
the bin, hand under my tea spoon, and dithered. There was tea bag juice
dripping onto my palm.

"Jakey!!" I yelled up the stairs. "Jake?!!"

I put the spoon down and wiped my hand on my jeans. I waited. Nothing.
I rested my forehead on the cupboard above the sink and called his name
again. I never should have put that television in his room. Surely he
was too young to be in trouble at school. He'd only gone up to seniors
this year. He was just eleven. Not old enough to do anything that
warranted a note sent home. I almost laughed out loud then. How old had
I been when I was stealing fistfuls of pick 'n' mix? Eight or nine,
probably. Just after dad left. This was the first time I'd caught him
hiding things from me. I felt the back of my eyes start to sting, and I
suddenly dreaded him coming down the stairs. I'd always managed to hide
my tears from him. I was supposed to be the strong one here, the
adult.

I was the one he looked up to. The one he idolised. I had to be strong
for him, for Jake.

For Jakey, my son.

*** *** ***

When Jakey was little I wasn't worried about being a good dad to him. I
learned to do all the things my father had never been around to teach
me. For his third birthday I built him a playhouse in the garden, proud
of the fact I'd sanded each piece of wood and hammered in every nail
myself. I can bleed radiators, change fuses, put up shelves and lay a
patio. When the car breaks down (which is increasingly often these
days) I am not afraid to lift up the bonnet and work whether I can fix
it myself with a Haynes manual and my old tool kit, or whether I need
to give Gerry a call and get it sorted, mates rates. I don't know if
these are things my dad could even do because he didn't stick around
long enough for me to find out. Certainly my older brother Nick can't -
it was me he called up last summer to help him build a new
barbecue.

Nick is much bigger than me, and stronger, with a shaved head and
tattoos on his knuckles, but he still sat in a deckchair supping
Strongbow whilst I hefted bricks around his garden with my bony arms,
sweating so hard my glasses kept slipping down my nose. I imagine my
dad being like Nick. Incapable. Lazy. Keener on the pub than on his
missus. I guess I must take after mum. Or maybe I was always keener to
impress her. The baby of the family. I was always afraid of letting her
down. I know my mum blames my dad for the way Nick's turned out. He
never had anyone to look up to, she tells me, he never had anyone to
show him the way. I don't point out that I ended up just fine. Probably
she thinks that I didn't. Single parent. Working a dead end job.

I don't know if our dad's alive or dead. I don't care.

*** *** ***

I pulled the soggy note out of the bin and threw it on the side. Jake
had never been in trouble before. He was a good kid, despite everything
that had happened to him. Last birthday we had sat down and counted how
many schools he'd been to since he was five. It was more than it should
have been, but after the funeral I'd had to leave the town he'd been
born in. I couldn't stand it there, all the reminders. We moved around
a bit before I found myself back in my home town. The last place I
wanted to be. But we were making the best of it, Jakey and me. At
least, I thought we were.

Still no movement from upstairs. I yelled for him again.

"In a minute!!" he shouted back. I looked at the note. Maybe this was
the beginning. My son, the teenager. I shuddered. Without realising I
was clinging to the kitchen work surface so hard my knuckles had
whitened. He couldn't possibly be as bad as I'd been. He couldn't be.
There'd been a death, not a divorce. And he didn't have an older
brother to try and live up to. Anything Nick did I would always try to
do better. Or worse, I suppose.

Nick smoked his first fag round the back of school at twelve - I'd
already sacked off school and was skinning up round a mates flat by the
same age. Nick stole cans of cider and puked up in the park - I stole
bottles of vodka and fell down flights of stairs. If Nick took some
kids bike, I'd take some blokes car. We egged each other on. But Nick
had never really grown out of it. I'd had to, once Jakey was in my
life. I was determined Jakey wouldn't go the same way. He had been
doing well at school. I secretly hoped he would go to university, make
something of himself. Make me proud.

Still nothing from upstairs. I sighed again, then picked up the note
and unfolded it. And stared. It wasn't from school at all - it was from
the under 12's football team he played for. I frowned as I scanned the
page. Some of the print had run but I could make out the bulk of it. It
read:

"DON'T FORGET our PRESENTATION DAY on NOVEMBER 12th!!

It's at THE POST OFFICE CLUB from 11am!!"

I frowned. Jake hadn't mentioned anything about it. I read the
agenda.

11.00 Fun Five-a-side
13.00 Sit down lunch and speakers*
14.30 FATHERS AND SONS match
16.00 Awards presentation

*tbc
** any dads wanting a place in the team please call Tony

Underneath 'awards presentation' someone, presumably Tony, had
scribbled - 'you don't want to miss that Jake!'

I didn't know whether to be relieved or not. I had a mouthful of tea
and read it again. Suddenly I realised Jakey had made it downstairs and
was stood in the kitchen doorway. He looked at the note in my hand, and
then up at my face.

"Did you chuck this out on purpose?" I asked.
He shrugged.

"Jakey - do you not want to go? I thought you liked going to
football?"

"S'pose," he mumbled, with another shrug.

"What's the problem then?"

"Can't you READ? FATHERS and sons football match, innit? How can I go?
You won't play - you won't even come! You HATE football!!"

I shrank back from him. He was right, I did hate football. That was
something Nick and my dad did together, something I was never involved
in. I hated most sport as a rule. I was rubbish at it, too weedy, never
got picked. But I'd wanted Jakey to be into sport, and when he'd
expressed an interest in footie I was pleased. Scared, but pleased. If
he practiced hard and was good enough to be on a team he'd always be
able to find friends. There were always football teams at school, at
college, at uni. Even Sunday League in pubs. He'd always have a place
he belonged, something I didn't have. And if he was into the game he'd
be able to join in all the lads banter. Would know the answers to all
those questions they ask - 'd'you see the game?'; 'didn't think much to
your new keeper'; 'who they gonna get in now Stan's gone?' That sort of
thing. Might as well have been a foreign language to me, but I was
determined Jakey would understand it. Have a support network.

As it was, he was good. Getting onto the first team was one of the
happiest days of his life, though I only heard about it after he was
back from training. He went off to training and matches with his friend
Matt and his dad. Sometimes they went to big matches too. I let them
get on with it. It wasn't the sort of thing I wanted to be involved in.
I wouldn't understand it and I certainly wouldn't enjoy it. I looked
down at the note and back to Jakey. I'd had an idea.

"Why don't you get Uncle Nick to go with you? It'd be a shame to
miss-"

"Uncle NICK? What? I'm not his son - I'm yours - and you WON'T
GO!!"

I stared at him. He was almost in tears.

"Do you want me to come?"

"? yeh. S'pose. You won't though, will you?"

"I don't know Jakey, I -"

"See? I knew you wouldn't! What was the point in talking about it?
You've NEVER come to watch me!"
He snatched the note from me, screwed it up and jammed it back into the
bin before turning and running back upstairs.

I closed my eyes. He was right. I'd never seen the team play. The
closest I got was having some of the lads over for tea now and again,
and nodding to their dads when they dropped Jakey home after training.
I suddenly realised I'd let him down. I finished my tea and went
upstairs. I tapped on his bedroom door.

"Jakey? Jake? I will take you to it if you want?"

He looked up from his Playstation.

"Really?"

"Yeh, you don't want to miss it, do you? It'd be stupid to miss it
because of me."

"Will you play?"

"Oh, now, I don't know - I'm not sure they'd have me."

"Ring up and see! Please! Everyone else is playing!"

He stood up and ran over to me, taking my hand and pulling me down the
stairs. He was at the phone before me, tapping in the number. I looked
at him, and took a deep breath.

*** *** ***

"You could pop down to the lads training on Tuesday, if you want,"
offered Mr Robinson, "if you need to get into the swing of it. It's not
for another couple of weeks, after all. D'you fancy it?"

"Er, yes? I suppose? but you'll have to, ha! Go easy on me," I
managed.

"We will love," said Mr Robinson. "Don't worry. I'll see you
there."

"Cheers," I squeaked.

"Cheers," he replied, and hung up.

I replaced the receiver and looked at Jakey.

"You happy now?" I asked, giving his hair a ruffle.

He nodded.

"Course I am mum, it's gonna be great."