Brenton Brown (7 page)

‘You don’t understand,’ said Brenton, his voice now almost in a whisper.

‘Don’t understand? I understand this. I don’t allow my past to affect my present. I can’t afford to. I’ve got two kids to raise
and I don’t want to raise them full of my shit and baggage. What are you? You’re very weak. You ain’t no man. You’re not a man at all. You can’t deal with your past, you can’t commit to anybody. You’re a fucking emotional cripple.
I can’t discuss my past!
Boo fucking hoo! I’m not gonna waste my time with someone as emotionally weak as you. Grief! They say you’re the stronger sex!’

Brenton closed his eyes. He opened them ten seconds later. He glanced at Lesley. ‘You finished?’

‘Just about.’

Sipping his beer, Brenton glanced at the image of the boy rasta once again. Lesley rose from her seat and went to the bathroom to collect her toothbrush. She then quick-stepped into the bedroom to pick up some spare underwear that she had left in Brenton’s chest of drawers. She put them in her handbag, and returning to the lounge she regarded Brenton once more. She shook her head. ‘In a way I feel sorry for you,’ she said. ‘Because you are so selfish you can’t recognise a good thing when it enters your life. You’ll probably end up alone, old and miserable, still trying to work out your issues … Don’t
ever
contact me again.’ She walked towards the door. ‘Oh, I almost forgot.’

Taking out a gift-wrapped box Lesley placed it on the dinner table. She offered Brenton one last glare before slamming the door behind her. Brenton felt the vibration from the door frame. He took a generous gulp of his beer, closed his eyes and bowed his head again. He didn’t move for the next twenty minutes.

Rising from his chair, he picked up the gift-wrapped box and guessed it was an expensive bottle of perfume. He looked at the tag.
Happy Birthday, Breanna. From Uncle Brenton and Lesley
it read. He sat back down and thought about what Lesley had said. Was he uncaring? Was he selfish? He did take her for granted. He didn’t want her to meet Juliet or Mum. He had never been
comfortable
introducing his girlfriends to Juliet. Mum was pleasant to Lesley on the two occasions they met. Why didn’t he suffer
when Mum passed away? He had long accepted her reasons for giving him up. They had got on reasonably well. Once they were reunited she had always treated him well. Why did he always insist on talking about the past with her instead of enjoying her company? He knew she was sick. When she had passed there was no sense of deep loss. No tears. He didn’t suffer that same
crushing
feeling as when Juliet told him their relationship had to end over twenty years ago. Since then other women had come into his life. Some lasted a few months, some a few weeks. He didn’t regret breaking up with any of them. Then there was Lesley. She was perfect for him. Intelligent and considerate. A
fantastic
mother. Independent and sexy. Why couldn’t he love her? If he did he would run out of his flat pleading with her to take him back. He didn’t like her calling him an emotional cripple but he didn’t feel devastated. Just annoyed. No, something a bit stronger than annoyed. Maybe that trauma with Juliet was so deep he could never recover from it. Can’t move on even though it’s twenty-odd years. Or is that an excuse? Perhaps Lesley’s right. I’m just a selfish me-me-me piece of shit.

On his way to Juliet’s house Brenton didn’t have the will to turn on the car stereo. Am I this bad a person, he kept asking himself. Maybe with my selfish ways I fucked up Juliet’s life too? What am I doing insisting that I should be named as Breanna’s father? Gotta drop that shit even though it will pain me for the rest of my days.

He pulled up opposite Juliet’s home and remained in the car for the next ten minutes. He needed to compose himself. With a deep sigh he made his way over to the house and pressed the doorbell. Breanna’s gifts were in his other hand and he almost dropped the envelope. The door opened to reveal Breanna. She was as happy as he had ever seen her. Would she still be smiling if the truth came out? Brenton asked himself. She might hate me.

‘Happy birthday, Breanna,’ Brenton smiled, handing her the presents.

‘Thanks, Uncle Brenton.’

She read the tags.

‘Where’s Lesley?’

‘Er, she ain’t coming,’ stuttered Brenton walking into the hallway.

‘Tell her thanks from me,’ insisted Breanna.

‘Yeah, of course.’

Don’t contact me ever again
echoed inside Brenton’s head. He visualised Lesley disappearing out of his flat. Breanna led him to the lounge. There were birthday cards on display on the large teak coffee table. Brenton glanced at the largest one. It was from Clayton and Juliet and there was a long handwritten message inside. It wasn’t Juliet’s writing. Fuck Clayton, Brenton screamed in his head.

Sitting together on a three-seater leather sofa were Juliet and Clayton. Clayton was dressed in a suit minus the jacket. He had loosened his tie and was nursing a brandy from a special wide glass that he used only for drinking brandy. He caught Brenton with a suspicious sideways glance but he quickly changed his expression to a smile.
Fuck
Clayton, Brenton repeated in his mind.

Smartly attired in a blue skirt suit, Juliet was sipping a glass of champagne. Wearing dark tights she was flexing her toes. She glanced at Brenton cautiously. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ she offered.

‘No, thanks,’ declined Brenton, still standing by the lounge door. ‘I had a beer at home and I can’t stay for long.’

Picking up a set of car keys from the coffee table, Breanna turned to Brenton and said, ‘You’ll never guess what my parents have bought me for my birthday.’

‘Breanna!’ rebuked Juliet. ‘Where’s your manners! Open your uncle’s card and gift.’

‘I got a car,’ Breanna blurted out. She showcased her enamel and Brenton thought she might have a pleasure overload.

‘
Breanna!
’ Juliet scolded once more.

‘It’s a Renault Clio,’ Breanna went on, ignoring her mother. ‘Sky blue. Even the insurance is paid.’

Clayton sipped from his brandy. There was a quarter grin developing from his eyes. Juliet glared at Breanna but she was still oblivious of her. ‘Do you wanna see it, uncle?’

‘Er, in a minute,’ said Brenton.

‘He’s brought you presents,’ interrupted Juliet. ‘Open them, Breanna.’

‘It can wait,’ said Brenton.

‘Open them
now
,’ insisted Juliet.

Doing what she was told, Breanna opened the box first and it revealed an expensive perfume. ‘That’s the second perfume I’ve got. Malakai bought me perfume too.’

Clayton rolled his eyes. Breanna opened the envelope and her eyes lit up when she saw the two hundred pounds in cash. She threw her arms around Brenton. ‘Thanks so much, uncle. I’m so lucky to have you.’

‘Maybe you can spend it on stuff for the car,’ Brenton
suggested
. ‘Car stereo, jump leads, furry dice, nice car seats. What do kids have in their cars these days? Little Jamaican boxing gloves? That kinda stuff.’

‘She’s got jump leads already,’ said Clayton.

Fuck Clayton, Brenton wanted to roar.

‘You’re not staying?’ asked Clayton. ‘Breanna will only be twenty-one once. There’s some cake as well. Have a drink with us. You can leave your car here and we’ll call you a cab when you’re ready to leave.’

‘Friends are coming around later,’ added Juliet. ‘And the cake is chocolate.’

‘Er, I’ll stay for some chocolate cake,’ said Brenton. ‘But I can’t stay for long.’

Taking an armchair Brenton was drawn by all Breanna’s
birthday cards. He recalled her past birthdays and it was the same. Gifts and cards all over the place. I didn’t get shit for my birthdays when I was growing up, he reflected. Lesley would laugh if she heard me say that.
You’re an emotional cripple, chained to the past. You can’t move on
. She’s probably right but I didn’t make me, circumstances made me. Breanna’s so lucky though. And a little bit spoilt. If I was allowed to be her dad I wouldn’t buy her no raas car. Clayton’s mum probably spoilt him. I bet he wore Farah trousers to school. Fuck him.

‘So how’s business?’ Clayton asked.

‘So-so,’ Brenton answered, jolted out of his thoughts. ‘I’m surviving.’

‘The housing market is very strong,’ said Clayton. ‘And should stay that way for quite a while. I should imagine you’ll be very busy.’

‘I’m just going to sit in my car again,’ said Breanna, still excited. ‘Might go for a drive around the block. Come and have a look, uncle.’

‘I’ll be out in a minute,’ said Brenton. ‘Let me eat my cake first.’

‘Have you thought about designing your own website to promote your business?’ asked Clayton. He sipped his brandy again and regarded Brenton in a friendly, helpful way. Fuck him, thought Brenton. Hate it when he goes on all nice and t’ing. ‘Er, not really had time to think about it,’ he finally replied.

‘If you like I can give you a few contacts in that field,’ said Clayton. ‘I know a few people who design websites for businesses.’ I bet you fucking do, thought Brenton.

‘It’s a bit of an investment but you would reach far more potential customers if you advertised yourself on the internet and it would be a great idea to have a satisfied-client page with comments.

‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ said Brenton.
Where’s Juliet with the fucking cake?
his inner voice screamed.

‘Word of mouth is the thing in your business,’ said Clayton. He poured himself some more brandy. He swirled it before taking another sip. He loosened his tie a bit more. ‘Have you ever thought about buying your own property, doing a
conversion
into flats and then selling it on? It’s very lucrative.’

‘No I haven’t,’ replied Brenton. He wished he now had a drink. Juliet returned with a generous slice of cake on a plate. She gave it to Brenton and he ate it as if it might explode if he didn’t finish it in the next sixty seconds.

‘Do you want another slice?’ offered Juliet.

‘No thanks.’

‘Brenton and I were just discussing ways of improving his business,’ mentioned Clayton.

Putting the plate down on the coffee table, Brenton stood up. ‘I suppose I’d better have a look at Breanna’s new car. Back in a sec.’

‘I’ll get you another slice of cake while you’re out,’ said Juliet.

Relieved to get out of the house, Brenton found Breanna and her new car parked just a few yards up the road. She was texting someone on her mobile and didn’t even see Brenton climb into the passenger seat. ‘This is nice,’ said Brenton.

‘It is,’ nodded Breanna. ‘Can’t believe it. Mum’s always gone on about how lucky I am and I have to learn about working for anything I want and she goes out and buys me a car for my birthday.’

‘You’re only twenty-one once,’ said Brenton.

‘And they got it in my favourite colour.’

‘I didn’t know your favourite colour was sky-blue. That’s the same as your mum’s.’

‘Don’t you notice anything, uncle? My bedroom is decorated in baby-blue and when it’s summer I always dress in baby-blue tops and accessories.’

I would notice stuff like that if I was allowed to be your dad, thought Brenton.

‘You going out celebrating tonight?’ asked Brenton.

‘Yeah. Not taking the car though. We still haven’t decided where to go yet. Might go to this bar in Clapham Common.’

‘Who you going with?’

‘Oh, the usual crowd … and Malakai.’

‘So you two serious?’

‘It’s getting that way,’ Breanna blushed.

‘Remember what I said. If a guy’s really serious he’ll stay around even if he’s not getting any sex in the first few weeks or months in a relationship. You understand?’

‘Yes, uncle. You’re not gonna lecture me about this on my birthday, are you?’

‘No, just be careful. Don’t give it up too easily for him. You’re twenty-one now so it’s not all about the sex. At Malakai’s age they basically just want sex but if they’re made to wait for it they’ll learn to respect you. That’s what you should be thinking now. Serious. And if he gets peckish and goes somewhere else to satisfy his
cravings
then dash him to the rough part of the kerb. Understand?’

‘Yes, uncle. Don’t worry, I don’t let man take advantage of me. I know what I’m doing. I’m twenty-one now!’

‘You have a good time, yeah.’

‘I will. Thanks again.’

‘No problem. I’m going back in now. I’ll see you soon. You coming in?’

‘Not yet. I’m gonna drive around the block.’

Smiling, Brenton climbed out of the car as Breanna turned the ignition. He watched her very carefully check her wing and rear mirrors before pulling away. He returned to the house and as he re-entered the lounge he noticed that Juliet had already wrapped another slice of cake in kitchen foil.

‘For tomorrow,’ she said smiling.

Not bothering to sit down, Brenton said, ‘Thanks. I’ll have it when I get back from work.’

‘Going already?’ asked Clayton.

‘Yeah. Gotta do some paperwork and prepare stuff for tomorrow.’

‘We appreciate you coming around,’ said Clayton standing up. He walked three paces towards Brenton and shook his hand warmly. Brenton made sure his grip was tighter than Clayton’s. Fuck him! he yelled in his mind once more.

‘I’ll see you to the door,’ offered Juliet.

She followed Brenton into the hallway. Before opening the front door, Brenton turned around. He gazed at Juliet. For just a moment his expression softened and became vulnerable. Longing was evident in his eyes.

‘You OK?’ asked Juliet.

‘Yeah. I’m fine.’

‘You look a bit … kind of pale.’

‘How can I look pale, Juliet? I’m brown.’

‘Sometimes people have a delayed kind of reaction to bereavement. We all react differently. I cried my tears at the hospital.’

‘Yeah, it’s hitting me now,’ Brenton said.

‘I’ll let you know when we can go and see the solicitor. He said about two weeks.’

‘OK, I’ll be there.’

‘Look after yourself, Brenton.’

‘I will.’

‘Oh, one sec.’

‘What is it, Juliet?’

‘I’m having a dinner party for a couple of Mum’s old friends soon. It’ll be nice if you were there.’