Boys Don't Cry Read Online Free Page B

then it wouldn’t be real. None of this would be real. How I wished there was someone standing in front of me to tell me what to think and how to feel. Because I didn’t have a clue. All I felt was . . . scared. Scratch that – terrified. Heart-thumping, cold-sweating, sick-to-my-stomach, mind-numbingly terrified. What did Melanie want from me?
    I started to shake my head.
    ‘Please, Dante,’ Melanie wheedled. ‘I’ll be back long before Emma wakes up, I promise. She’ll sleep for a good couple of hours now.’
    ‘Melanie, if she wakes up, I wouldn’t have a clue what to do.’ And God knows, that was the truth.
    ‘You won’t have to do anything. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or less. OK?’ Melanie was already heading out of the sitting room and towards the front door.
    ‘You can’t just dump her on me,’ I protested.
    ‘At least you’re calling Emma “her” now rather than “it”.’
    ‘Melanie, I’m serious,’ I said. ‘No way are you leaving a baby here.’
    ‘Oh, get over yourself, Dante. I’m coming back, aren’t I?’
    ‘You can’t leave your baby here,’ I insisted, my tone broken-glass sharp with panic. ‘I was going out.’
    ‘Yeah, but not immediately. You said you were waiting for your exam results. I’ll be back soon.’ Melanie was at the now-open front door. ‘And she’s not just “my” baby. She’s yours too. Remember that.’
    ‘Melanie, hang on. This isn’t right. You can’t just—’
    But she was already heading along the pavement. ‘See you in a minute.’
    ‘Why don’t I shop for the things you need and you can look after your baby?’ I called after her.
    Melanie turned round but didn’t come any closer. Her gaze kept skidding away from mine. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought she was only a breath away from tears. ‘Dante, what brand of nappies do I buy? What kind of food does Emma like? What do I put on her skin each night after her bath? What cream do I use when she has nappy rash? What book do I read to her every evening before she goes to sleep?’
    ‘Well, you’re not going to get all that now, are you?’ I pointed out. ‘So just tell me what to buy and I’ll get it.’
    ‘Dante, what’s wrong with you? Are you worried she’s going to jump up and bite your ankles or something? I’ll be back soon. OK? And then we can have a proper talk.’
    No, it wasn’t OK. And I didn’t want to talk or anything else with Melanie. I wanted,
needed
her to go away with her baby and never come back. If only I could just go back to bed and erase my morning, wake up and start all over again. With increasing frustration, I watched as Melanie carried on walking. With each step she took away from me, the knot inside my stomach grew tighter. I went back indoors. I wanted to slam the front door and keep on slamming it until the thing fell off its hinges, but I couldn’t handle the baby waking up before Melanie returned.
    I had a kid. Called Emma. My daughter . . .
    Oh God . . .
    What was I going to do?
    Dad . . .
    What was Dad going to say?
    And my brother?
    And my friends?
    Oh God . . .
    The doorbell rang.
    Melanie. She’d come back. Thank goodness. But that was quick . . . Oh . . . I got it now. She was going to tell me it was all a joke. Probably set up by my mate, Joshua. This was just the kind of stunt he would pull. Josh by name and josh by nature. If this was his idea of a wind-up, then when I got hold of him, it’d be on! I wrenched open the door.
    ‘Hiya. Package for your dad that needs signing for and some letters,’ said the postman cheerily.
    In a daze, I scribbled across the electronic signature box with the inkless pen the postman held out. He handed me an A4-sized padded envelope and an assortment of letters. The top letter was addressed to me. I raised my head to thank the postman but he was already on his way to the next house.
    Shutting the front door, I half fell, half leaned against it. I didn’t want to move from the spot.