have the chance...”
“But it’s you who doesn’t want another baby, not me. Why should I have the surgery?”
“Are you saying you’d have another baby if you could?”
“Well, if you died…”
“Yes! Go on, Haliken, can you work on her dying?” Jotin was getting agitated.
“I thought we went through that. Agreed it’s too difficult. But I’m still trying to work on getting her away.”
“Oh, if I died, you’d find some floozy the next day and fill her full of all the babies you haven’t forced on me. Well, that tells me a lot. You’re waiting for me to die. I wish I could, make it all simpler for everyone.”
“How right you are.” Jotin smiled. “Funny, they think they’re being ridiculous, but they’re on the button, sometimes.”
“No-one wants you to die, don’t be ridiculous. We all love you.”
“Funny way of showing it,” Kathleen flicked at the magazine. “Vasectomy, or forget it.” She got up and ran out of the room. Sounds of sobbing could be heard going up the stairs. David sat at the table, his coffee cold beside him and the crumpled magazine looking cold to match. He stroked it, feeling the skin of an old friend. But no part of him responded with the buzz he usually felt when he got it out. She’s spoiled it for me, he thought. Even that release is gone now. He sighed and the soft pages riffled. What’ll I do? I don’t want to prevent another baby, really. I’d like to have another. Why shouldn’t we have another? We’re only thirty-five, hardly geriatric.
“No, and Lucy’s twenty-three. Don’t do anything rash. Stall. Go on, put your magazine away safely, you’ll be needing it.”
There was a buzz in the energy of the room. The lights flickered and David looked up. Trynor arrived, his energies in disarray, wild points of red and orange light jagging out of him. Jotin got up, startled. He moved over to Trynor and tried to soften the points of energy, to smooth his friend down to a state where it would be worth asking questions. Some of his own energies began to fizz in harmony with Trynor and he struggled to maintain his calm. The lights went out. David sat for a moment and when nothing happened, got up and began to feel his way towards the cupboard where the candles were kept.
“Come on, friend, calmness now, calmness. Tell me what has you like this and I can help.” Jotin continued to move his energies across Trynor’s and gradually the colours muted and the jags of light softened. Trynor’s mouth opened and shut several times and at last he croaked-
“He proposed. And the idiot girl said yes. Come and look.” The two guides flicked out of the room. The lights came back on, just as David was lighting a candle and a voice from upstairs asked ‘what have you done to the lights?’
“Nothing. They just went off. Seem okay now.”
“Come up. I’m lonely.”
I wonder does that mean anything, thought David. Maybe, if I’m positive about the vasectomy idea…He picked up the Penthouse off the table and went over to the bin, but as he was putting his foot on the pedal to open the lid, a thought struck him and he turned. He pulled over a stool, got up on it and slid the magazine onto the top of one of the high cupboards. I’ll get it down when everyone’s out, he thought and put it back upstairs. Just in case I need my Clothilde-on-page-seventeen again, who knows. This might be a flash in the pan. If anything even happens. He switched off the lights, blew out the candle and headed hopefully for the stairs.
“Look!” Trynor was still upset, but was trying to calm down. Lucy was in Martin’s arms, her hands were at the back of his head and a diamond ring was on her finger. They were kissing deeply. Roki was sitting in the other armchair, sprawled out in it, relaxed and amused. Trynor rounded on him.
“How could you? How could you? You’re wasting this life. We’ll have to start again, yet again.”
Jotin was calmer than Trynor. It was a bit easier for him, he thought, he had watched David make this mistake years ago and was more used to it.
“Yes, Roki,” Jotin joined in, “They are meant to be together and with Moonsong. She’s sitting there at Home waiting for Lucy and David to be ready for her. Just waiting, when she could be getting on with things. And if