48 Tom's POV
"How did working with Danny this week make you feel?" Natasha asked at our next session, after I had given her a quick rundown on the week.
"Erm, it was... it was good, I guess. We, we worked well together, and we got a song written." I explained, fiddling with my sleeves. I wasn't sure what else to say really, it was... I had enjoyed myself, and felt like I had done something right for the first time in I don't know how long, but it was... I don't know. I just couldn't really pin down what I was feeling right now.
"That's good news, when was the last time you wrote a song?" she continued, I shrugged, "Come on, surely you know when the last time you wrote a song is? Or at least can give me a rough estimate."
"I... I don't... it's been a while." I was ashamed of it, my job was to write songs, I was supposed to be writing all the time, and I didn't. I couldn't come up with anything on my own, I was blank.
"Why do you think that is?" Natasha pressed on.
"Maybe, maybe because of Buzz... Not in a bad way, obviously, I love him and love taking care of him, I mean... it's just... I look after him so much, I don't really have time to think of songs and lyrics." I tried to explain, God that sounded bad, that sounded terrible, I couldn't believe... that wasn't what I wanted to say!
"I understand, when did you start feeling like this?" Natasha didn't seem to think anything bad about what I'd said, but what if she did? What if Danny, Harry and Dougie did, and they tried to take Buzz away, so I could work more on songs? Would they do that? My wife, she... she implied it several times.
"I don't... I don't really know." I didn't, it had been so long, I couldn't really pick out a time when I hadn't felt like this, not really.
"Okay, well was it before Buzz was born?" Natasha asked, she was asking so softly, like it whatever I said would be okay.
"Erm, I don't... I remember trying to write him a song, before he was born. We were, we were going to make a 'Bump To Buzz' type video, showing how the bump grew. I was supposed to write a song for it, but I couldn't get the words out. They got... the melody didn't fit, and the words got stuck and nothing came out." I'd been so upset, I had really wanted to give my child something, to do something special for him. And I hadn't been able to do it, no matter how hard I tried.
"How did your wife take that?" Natasha seemed hesitant to ask, I didn't blame her, she was probably expecting me to say that I got punished for it horrendously.
"She was, she was incredibly disappointed. She shouted, a lot." It was the first time she told me she didn't think I was cut out to be a father, that she doubted that I loved our child, "There, there was no violence though. She didn't hit me, or anything like that. It was just shouting, that's all." Natasha had to know that, that my wife was good to me, she didn't hurt me once. She could have, and should have as well, but she didn't. All she had ever done was shout when I did something wrong.
"What kinds of things did she shout Tom?" Natasha asked, still so softly.
"I, I don't want to talk about it." I really didn't want to admit to it, even though Natasha knew. It was embarrassing, having to admit that you were screwing up as a parent before your child was even born. What kind of professional songwriter can't even write a song for their child?
"Tom please, tell me what she said. I promise it won't leave this room, and won't sway my decision in letting you keep Buzz." She gestured to my son, who was so innocently playing with some wooden building blocks on the floor.
"She erm, she told me." I leant down, covering Buzz's ears, I didn't want him to hear this, "It was the first time she told me she doubted I loved our child, and doubted I'd be a good father. She was ashamed of me... I do love him though, with everything I have. And I know I'm not good at being a parent, but I'm trying, I swear I'm trying so hard to get this right. I'm doing everything you say, following it to the letter." I was trying so hard, really I was. I wanted to get this right, I wanted to say that I was getting better at this, that I had proof that my wife was wrong about me and fatherhood. I just... there wasn't anything right now.
"After that, how often did she tell you those things?" Natasha asked as I uncovered Buzz's ears, catching his confused expression.
"Daily. Just about every time I did something wrong." After it started, she wouldn't stop, she made sure I knew exactly what she thought of my parenting skills. And she certainly made it clear on the day she left too.