Contemporary story
On

Someone To Care For

My friend Natalie can't see the point in you. She says that all you do is burp, fart, dribble, grin inanely and emit a series if unintelligible noises. Admittedly she hasn't seen you at your best, but I still think that's a little harsh.

The first time Natalie came to visit you were asleep on your back, gurgling little spit bubbles, a thin strand of drool running down your chin. Natalie just stared at you as if you were a creature from another planet. She made no secret of the fact that she wasn't impressed.

The second time she came to visit you crawled across the carpet towards her and vomited on her expensive new shoes. I tried to make light of it, explaining that it's mainly just liquid and wipes off easily, but she really did look quite appalled.

Natalie likes being a career woman, rushing between meetings in her power suit, clutching her Starbucks Coffee and her laptop. She's never wanted a husband or a baby, but if she could see you on a good day I'm sure she'd feel differently. If she could see the way you clap your hands and squeal with excitement when Scooby-Doo comes on the telly then she'd find you just as adorable as I do.

Instead she thinks you're smelly and have a strange shaped head. She looked revolted when I said you like putting your toes in your mouth, and finds it disturbing that you're always staring greedily at my breasts. It upsets her even more when you stare greedily at her breasts. I tried to explain that you're a man and that's what men do, but she wasn't having any of it.

If I'm honest, I think you could have made a bit more of an effort when Natalie first visited our house. I know it was the morning after Spongey's stag do, but I thought you could have at least lugged yourself into the bedroom instead of lying sprawled on the sofa in a curly wig, a pair of women's shoes and a t-shirt with a photo of Spongey's bare bottom on the front. If you'd had some trousers on it might not have been so bad. Natalie and I were comfortable enough perched on the wooden chairs, but it was quite distracting to have you snoring over our conversation, and I think Natalie was a bit uncomfortable when you started mumbling and fiddling with yourself.

When Natalie left, giving me a kiss on the cheek and a look of pity before rushing off for an appointment with her personal trainer, I removed your stilettos, covered you with a blanket and wiped the drool from your chin. Later, when you woke up screaming about a pain in your head which you assumed must be a brain haemorrhage, I gently explained that you had simply consumed an excessive amount of alcohol. I then sat by your side, holding your hand and stroking your forehead in a bid to reassure you. Three days later when you had recovered, I firmly reiterated this link between lager and suffering and said I hoped you had learnt your lesson. You looked ashamed, said you wouldn't do it again and then promptly went out and got wasted.

I'd secretly hoped that things would be better the next time Natalie came to visit. I thought she might like you better if you had your trousers on and were conscious. To be fair you didn't let me down on either of those counts, but if I'm going to be picky then I wish you'd been sober and hadn't vomited on her.

←2→

I assumed that when I told you she was coming for dinner you would come home from the pub before ten o'clock, but of course you bumped into Spongey down at the Queens Head and the two of you decided to celebrate the fact that you were wearing the same socks. I understand how important these things are to you, and I do appreciate the fact that you phoned me from the pub six times with a string of terrible excuses, but could you not have come for the Chicken Chasseur I had prepared? Instead you fell through the front door three hours late, addressed Natalie as Bob, crawled towards her on all fours and then chucked up all over her feet. It wiped off just as I said it would, but I don't think that made Natalie like you any better.

Once Natalie had left - which she did at great pace - I cleared up the mess and sat you down at the kitchen table. You clutched my fingers tightly and tried to put one of them in your mouth, mistaking it for the digestive biscuit I offered you. I should have been furious, but when you grinned stupidly at me, your mouth surrounded by biscuit crumbs, my heart softened and I forgave you. At the end of the day, however badly you behave, you're mine and I still love you.

I can understand why Nathalie thinks you're an idiot, but it's easy for her to judge. She already has everything she ever desired. I never wanted the impressive job title, the sports car or the big flashy house. All I ever really wanted was to be a mother. You might not be the most sophisticated man in the world, but you have a good heart and all the other necessary parts to help me fulfil that dream.

I know exactly why having a baby is so important to me: I want someone I can take care of. I find it incredible that another flailing, helpless human being could rely on me to look after them. Babies are so utterly incapable of looking after themselves, so dependent on others for their wellbeing. From their failure to control their bodily functions to their inability to use their tiny undeveloped brains, they are so completely useless without someone to care for them. I want to be needed like that.

←3

Natalie says I don't need a baby to fulfil my dream. She says I'm already there.

I have no idea what she means. I just don't think these career women understand.

Options

Introducing your ereader mobile app!

Manybooks

Get The Best Reading Experience

App linkApp link

Rate this story:

Average: 5 (1 vote)

Comments

Submitted by admin on Thu, 04/10/2008 - 15:22

Permalink

Funny, and a little confusing. At first I thought the narrator was talking to her baby, and when it got to the alcohol I thought it was a man. Later when she gave him a biscuit I thought it was a mentally disabled man. Now Im not sure if it was just her man, an alcholic and immature man, or if she really is talking about having babies with someone who actually and medically has the brain capacity of a child--a little disturbing, but it would explain why the world is full of morons.

Not sure what to think, exactly, about the story, but I like the style of writing you chose to convey it.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 04/17/2008 - 18:31

Permalink

The point of the story is youre supposed to think its a baby at the beginning. This woman wants a baby so badly that shell stay married to an alcoholic loser just to get pregnant and feel needed by someone. The irony is, her husband is like a giant baby, but she is blind to that. She thinks her friend Natalie is blinded by her career-driven attitude.

Submitted by admin on Fri, 04/18/2008 - 12:54

Permalink

it was funny

Submitted by admin on Fri, 05/02/2008 - 19:42

Permalink

in fact, i dislike the style of writing, because its never unrealistic. but i am going to give one comment about this story. realy, i have a little confusing when i read this story, so this story talked about the care of child, but i cant believe how can baby drink alcohol?! As a result, this end a little disturbing for me.

Submitted by admin on Sun, 05/11/2008 - 02:16

Permalink

Nice job.
It was a bit confusing - IN A GOOD WAY.
You made it fun.
Good use of the story form and the quick vignettes.
Nice revisiting the stories with a different perspective.
Good job. Keep at it. (the writing, that is. If its too autobiographical, well...)

Submitted by admin on Mon, 05/12/2008 - 09:10

Permalink

Genius.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 05/15/2008 - 14:10

Permalink

I can see what youre trying to achieve, and I must admit I did think that the narrator was talking about a baby to begin with. However, the story feels too much like a writing exercise and needs to be developed further.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 05/29/2008 - 04:42

Permalink

I thought this was cool.. And I thought the poem was about a baby just described as a man..And the alcohol part, I thought it was the babys milk..
u knw I thought it was just a comparision???well it was a cool story.

Submitted by admin on Fri, 05/30/2008 - 15:39

Permalink

It was interesting, for sure. I like the writing style. I was a little confused about whom the narrator was speaking to, but I think that was what kept me reading. Overall, a good and very original story.

Submitted by admin on Wed, 06/18/2008 - 19:12

Permalink

"story feels too much like a writing exercise and needs to be developed further."

I agree with this comment... you drive the point too hard and thats what loses me. You should keep it more vague...

Otherwise, good (but it would be better if it wasnt so true for some people!) Keep it up!

Submitted by admin on Fri, 06/20/2008 - 04:19

Permalink

well sound like the story coming from the buttom of your hart ican see that but in the futuer you need to orgnise your stories in your hart in good understandable way >> to the best

passing reader
thank you

Submitted by admin on Sun, 07/06/2008 - 16:12

Permalink

Well written. But i suppose it should have been made more clear whom the story is being read. I donr suppose men jump in excitment at the site of Scooby doo do they!!!
Over all i really enjoyed reading it.

Submitted by admin on Tue, 07/22/2008 - 06:38

Permalink

I enjoyed this the first read through, then much more the second time. The blur between man/baby underscored by the narrators need to care was intriguing and very clever. I liked her right away.

It seems from previous comments that many readers want to be entertained without any effort on their own part, but in that case theyre missing out on what quirkier stories have to offer, I think. I like stories that take me by surprise, draw me back for a second or third go, and get me thinking. This was one of those. Thanks for sharing it!

Submitted by admin on Thu, 07/24/2008 - 16:59

Permalink

People keep saying that the story was hard to understand. Maybe this was unintentional, but it kept me guessing until you mentioned alcohol. At first, I couldnt stand Natalie because I thought she was one of those obsessive career people who doesnt like kids, but then I started to dislike the narrator, because she is one of those enabler/victim people who has a kind of weakness that makes me think ATTACK!

Submitted by admin on Thu, 08/14/2008 - 20:45

Permalink

something unusual.
I thought you were mixing both ,a man as a baby and a grown up man.
I could clearly differentiate it.
Each time Nathalie visits the baby grows older. But later comes back being a baby again.
Indeed, man really needs a woman to survive. hehe..

Add new comment

About text formats

Plain text

  • No HTML tags allowed.
  • Lines and paragraphs break automatically.
  • Web page addresses and email addresses turn into links automatically.