"Imagine your favorite fictionnal character as a father"
THAT was really hard... I tried... I'm sorry for the eventual typos and mistake, I'm not used to writing in English !
"Where's dad ?"
It surprised me to hear that Richard was even calling him "dad". Jim was indeed his father, but he wasn't the "daddy" every little boy would exepect. Since Richard was born, I wasn't seeing Jim as much as I wanted. He actually didn't choose to be father, I just wanted to keep the baby. That little boy with the dark eyes and the blond hair was still our kid. My kid.
"He's working."
It was hard for him though. All his friends were able to tell stories about their dads and their jobs, and a few fathers already visited them at school. Richard didn't even know what was his dad's work – well, telling your child that his father is a consulting criminal isn't easy. He wasn't asking questions about it anymore. To him, Jim was a sort of really busy business man. I sighed and took him in my arms.
"Do you want us to go to his flat, this afternoon ?"
The little boy nodded, a sad smile on his face. He needed his dad. How old was he ? Already five… Time flies. In five years, Jim hadn't been much around. Fortunately, I had a good job, and Richard and I could have a comfortable life. I looked at the clock on the wall : 1pm. I didn't even know if Jim was home – he could be comitting one of his weird crimes outside. I sort of smiled, thinking of my parents. When I told them I was pregnant, they immediately wanted to know who the father was. They didn't know about Jim and I, even if they had heard that I was still dating someone, a few months before that call. But I never told them about my so called "marriage". After all, they weren't even living in England, and it was an easy thing to hide – nobody knew. But that day… I closed my eyes.
"What will I tell them ?"
Jim was silent, impassive.
"I don't know and I don't care, it's your problem, don't bother me with it.
- It's also your kid !"
He looked at me with anger in his eyes, his fists closed.
"It's not MY KID" said he, screaming at mid-sentence.
I wasn't really surprised – I knew he would say something like that. I had tears in my eyes and I was afraid. Since the death of Sherlock and his faked one, he was crazier. I thought it would calm him down, make him want a "normal" life, but I was definitely wrong… Now he was craving for something that would excite him, take him out of his boredom. He stopped paying attention to me and went back to his work. Ah, what was he even working on ? He had nothing to do, now that everyone thought he was dead. I shrugged my shoulders, looking at him one last time, and walked toward the door. I didn't care. I was going home, and I was going to keep the baby.
"Call him Richard."
I stopped, my hand on the door.
"What ?"
Jim stayed silent a few minutes, but I was still waiting for an answer.
"I said, call him Richard."
His voice was unconfident, and almost trembling – he made an enormous effort to care. I was convinced he had feelings, but somehow, he was afraid to show them. And he didn't know how to.
"Thank you" whispered I, leaving his flat.
I didn't even know the sex of the kid yet, but I was keeping that name somewhere on my mind. When I got home, I called my parents and told them I was pregnant – the father, though, ran away, and I didn't know where he was. But I didn't care, I was keeping my child. They were worried, but promised to take care of me if I needed them to. I smiled and thanked them before hanging up.
Richard woke me up, climbing on my knees.
"Mommy, are we leaving now ?"
I nodded and took him in my ams. It was sunny outside and pretty warm – we were going to walk to Jim's flat. He wasn't living too far from here, three or four blocks away. Richard was smiling : the thought of his dad always made him happy. Everytime, he'd hope that he'd be able to play with him or tell him about his day at school, but he never was listening. I sighed. Jim was certainly a kid who needed love but never got some. And I didn't want Richard to be like that. We climbed the stairs to his quite luxurious apartment, and I knocked on the door.
"It's us, open."
I tried to learn how to stop being afraid of him, and weak. I was as strong as he was, if not more. He finally opened the door and laid his eyes on me – I felt all my so called strength and anger suddenly disappearing.
"I need to talk to you Jim."
Richard smiled at him, but he did't answer. I told him to sit on the couch while his father and I were talking, and we both went in Jim's room. The bed wasn't done and I sat on it.
"I was bored, glad you came."
He had that "smile" again and I could guess his thoughts, as he was putting his hand on my neck.
"I… We need to talk first."
Jim was such a sexual person – he kind of was the sex. His dirty smile disappeared.
"Richard is your child – whether you want it or not. And he needs his dad. And you know what ? I think you need him too."
He laughed.
"You're funny. Come on now, don't make me wait, you're getting boring."
He started to sort of carress my thigh and I tried to stay focused. I wasn't here for that, and I had to be stronger than him – this time.
"You're afraid Jim. You're afraid and weak, because you've always been alone, and you don't know how to love. I don't know what happened in you childhood, and maybe you're afraid of hurting Richard but -"
He violently grabbed my wrist and pulled me close to him, his dark eyes into mine.
"Don't. Ever. Say that I'm weak. AGAIN. NEVER, AGAIN."
I swallowed and took a deep breathe.
"You'll never show it, but I know you have feelings… Jim."
He pushed me away, saying nothing, and I stood up. I could hear Richard playing alone in the living room with the few toys he brought with him. I sighed.
"At least, you could pretend to care.
- What for ? You're getting annoying, I might grow tired of you."
This sentence hurt me, but I tried to convince myself it wasn't true. He was just lying. Lies. Always.
"Grow tired of me if you want, but try to give some love to your son."
He stayed there, on the bed, his look lost in the void.
"Love…"
He was saying that word really softly, just for himself, as if it was the most disgusting thing ever.
"You know how to pretend love. You've done it before."
He knew I was right. And I knew it too. In that moment, I hoped he didn't know what to say. He got up and opened the door. Richard was sitting on the rug, and Jim smiled to him – was it a fake smile ? I couldn't tell. Probably, he was such a good actor… He joined him, and I stood there, watching them. Pretending we were a family.