Read Emily Taylor - The Teenage Mum Online

Authors: Vi Grim

Tags: #coming of age, #pregnancy, #emily taylor, #pregnancy and childbirth, #vi grim, #age 14 to adult, #the teenage mum, #young mum

Emily Taylor - The Teenage Mum (5 page)

'We've got things to do,' he
says.
'We do,' I say, looking out at
the sheets of rain. 'Come on in. Let's have a cup of tea
first.'
He comes in and trips over the
boxes.
I laugh and help him to his
feet. It's funny, but I'm the same height as him now. When he's a
human he's way taller than me, like he's about six foot tall. Azziz
is a bit shorter and stockier. I throw a bit of wood on the stove
and give the grate a rattle to get things going then put the kettle
on. I fill it right up so it takes longer to boil.
'It's perfect weather for it,'
says Jesus.
'What, making babies?' I
joke.
'No!' says Jesus looking deadly
serious. 'Planting trees.'
'You must be joking,' I
chortle, as the wind rattles the windows.
'No. They like a good wet day.
Gets then germinating. It's new Venus too, the most fertile time of
the month.'
We have a cup of tea and some
of Zeus's crunchy scones. It's still raining outside. 'Let's open
the parcels,' I say. 'I'll try everything on.'

 

First out is the black
swimsuit. I put it on and model it in front of Jesus. He laughs
because I'm all goosey with the cold and it's a bit baggy.
'It'll be perfect by the time
summer arrives,' says Jesus. 'Next.'
Next are the slashed jeans and
graffiti T-shirt. As I spin a round he laughs again, 'I never knew
you had a tattoo. What is it?'
'I'm not telling, it's
private.'
'You might need to get your
tummy button pierced and a stud in your nose to match that
outfit.'
'Not just yet,' I say. 'Do you
like it though?'
'Of course, you look good in
anything.'
Next out are the short yellow
jeans and the blue flowery T-shirt. 'Love it,' says Jesus. 'Perfect
for gardening.'
The rain has eased.
I tear open another box and try
the summer dresses on. 'We'll have to have a mid-summer rock and
roll party so you can wear them,' says Jesus. 'Remind me when the
weather has warmed up.'
I open the box with the green
knickers. They are so silky to touch. I decide to try them on some
other time.
I try on another pair of jeans
and a surf shirt and hoody. Just right for today.
'You are looking
splendiferous,' says Jesus. 'It's going to be a lucky man that gets
you.'
'There's not many of them
around here.' I say blushing. I wonder if he knows about the crush
I had on Azziz. It's not so bad now, but I still think of him a
lot.
The rain has stopped.
There's still one thing I need to do before we go out. I pull out
all my old clothes and pile them on the table.

Some I throw
out right away. M
y torn
belly-dancing outfit is first to go; I'd love to keep it, it's so
much a part of me, but I throw it on the floor, it's from a past
life. One has to move on. Now I'm tall and got curves my old jeans
and T-shirts don't fit anymore, and the colours are yucky pastels.
They go on the out pile.

The black Emma Peel
catsuit; I hardly ever wear it, but it's an alien one that grows
with you and what's more, it's laser proof. I keep it.

My bright red
dress; i
t's lovely but it must
go. I throw it out. Then I have second thoughts; I might have
daughters one day. I put it on a hanger and it goes back in the
wardrobe. My maroon shawl, I keep, and my big XXXL jersey will
always fit, so I keep it too.

 

The sun breaks through
the clouds throwing a ray of sunlight down onto the beach. I watch
it chase across the waves until it reaches us, bathing the house in
yellow warmth. 'Com'on,' I say to Jesus, stop faffing about. Let's
go plant some trees.'
'Let's put the seeds on the
table,' says Jesus. 'They'll blow away outside.'
I push the clothes to one
side and empty the little box of seeds onto my beat up wooden
table. There's some like little helicopters, some like orange pips
and others no bigger than an ant.
'Let's do this properly,' says
Jesus. 'Get it wrong and you'll be shivering through the winters in
the shade, or you'll wake up dead one day because a branch blew off
in a storm and landed on you.'
It's hard to image that these
tiny seeds can hold such power.
Jesus grabs my box of pencils
and draws my cottage and the beach on the table in red. Then he
draws where the sun is at midday and where it comes up and goes
down in the summer and winter, drawing neat yellow curves across
the table. He carefully looks at the seeds, then makes an espresso
and walks around outside lining up imaginary trees. Back in at the
table he places the seeds in various spots around the house and
garden and along behind the beach and draws circles around
them.
I say, 'Don't tell me what they
are.' I think I know the ones he's putting along the top of the
beach. The helicopter seeds look and smell like pine. I guess
they're umbrella pines like in Spain. Pine nuts, yum, yum!
Jesus clicks his fingers
and some round tree protectors appear. 'They'll protect the trees
while they're young and keep the winkles out,' he says, picking one
up. 'Grab a seed, any seed, and we'll get started.'
I pick up one of the pine
seeds, carefully put it back in the little box and slip it into my
pocket. With a click of my fingers the spade appears from the
garden. How lazy! When we get to the right spot behind the beach,
we clear the brush and weeds and dig a huge hole. I want to stop
when it's an inch deep but Jesus is only happy when I've dug down a
metre. We fill most of the hole with wheelbarrows full of compost
from the garden then carefully plant the seed, crumbling the dirt
up with our fingers so it's easy for it to grow. We bang in some
posts and firmly attach a tree protector. When we have planted all
the seeds, I send a message to Trigger that he’s not to eat them or
knock them over. He agrees on condition that he gets first pick of
this summer's crop of carrots. Sloshing water all over the place we
carry heavy buckets down from the house and carefully water the
seeds. Jesus says a few prayers. To who, I don't know, I never
thought he was religious.
'The tree gods,' he says when I
ask. It seems fair enough, those little seeds will need all the
help they can get if they are going to survive and grow into big
trees.
Two days later Jesus and me
have finished. I'm all excited to see what grows.
'Can't we just nip forward
fifty years and see?' I ask Jesus.
'No!' he says. 'That takes all
the fun out of it.'

 

I pull my old clothes out and
make a little fireplace for them on the beach. I try to light them
but they just smoulder and go out. A bottle of turpentine fixes
that and in no time they are burning brightly.
'Haven't you forgotten
something,' says Pollux.
'What?
'The desert glass.'
I jump on the fire and stomp
around like a mad thing, singing the hairs off my legs. I pull out
the smoking tatters of my belly-dancing outfit and, using my fang,
cut the valuable piece of glass out from where it used to cover my
tummy button.
Soon the fire is burning
brightly again and we pile up driftwood to make a big bonfire.
Azziz and Janice come along and, when the fire has burnt down, we
sizzle sausages and cook up potatoes in the embers. They drink lots
of wine and sing and joke. I still find the wine a bit bitter so I
have a cup of hot choccy and toast up marshmallows and eat them
flaming.

 

 

 

6

 

I wake up worrying.
There's something important I should be doing that I've forgotten
about, like I've missed an appointment or something. I've been so
caught up in my little world and my problems that I've forgotten
about everyone else. Have I forgotten someone's birthday? I sit out
in the sunshine on my sofa and wonder what it is. I poke little
holes in the weathered fabric with my fingers and pull out bits of
stuffing. I really need to sew some patches on before it falls
completely to bits. I fiddle absentmindedly with the piece of
desert glass in my pocket.

God, that's
what it is, I'm God! I'm sposed to
be looking after Earth. Zeus said, 'Do nothing,' but surely
I should be doing something, like at least watching all of those
people. I've done absolutely zilch. I hope Earth is going okay. I
might get the sack if it's not!

I click my fingers and the worm
appears on the front lawn.
Who first? Mum and Dad.
They must be worried. Every year they go to my grave on my birthday
and something just a little special happens to remind them that I'm
there. This year I forgot. Oops!

 

Mum and Dad seem okay. I
cry when I see them. Once I've pulled myself together, I watch them
going about their daily life. Danny and Julie are growing up.
They’ve started school and look ever so cute in their school
uniforms. The little one, Toby, is now two. He's sitting in the
high chair being fed and is ever so cheeky. His face is covered
with chocolate yogurt. With the worm it's just like being there.
I'm there but they can't see me. Tele is on in the background.
There's nothing on the news, just a political scandal. One of the
MPs is dodging tax on her house rentals. No news is great news,
everything is good on Earth; I've got nothing to worry
about.
I sit on the stool and watch.
Dad keeps looking over, like he knows that I'm there. Good.

 

Annie is okay but only just.
Her dad has been beating her up again and abusing her. Her mum
tried to help but got beat up and has a black eye and bruises on
her face. I wish she would call the police or the social services.
She's too scared. Maybe I should. No, God said not to intervene so
I won't, not for the moment. I'll keep an eye on them.
It makes me sad seeing Annie, I
could just click my fingers and have her up here but I know I
shouldn't, not too often. It might upset the delicate balance of
things.

 

It makes me sad to see Annie
but seeing Zula makes me sadder. Actually to be truthful, jealous
is the word. I kick Negrita and don't see her a few days. She made
the mistake of being too close at the wrong moment!
Zula is married and Ijju is
pregnant. I love Ijju but that doesn't stop me being jealous. She's
too beautiful and too nice and she's the one lying in Zula's arms.
Cow!

 

I keep the worm at my place; no
one else seems to want to use it.

Later that week
a scaffold pole falls off a building and lands on Annie's dad,
killing him dead.
It's very
messy. I expect Annie to be delighted to be free of the nasty
tyrant but surprisingly she's sad that her dad is dead. Her and her
mum go into mourning. I guess Zeus was right about not getting
involved. I feel better though. Don't mess with my friend,
buster!

 

It's lonely up
here; my life feels a little empty like there’s something
missing.
I do have company;
there's the slugs, Castor and Pollux; there's Azziz and Jesus, who
are just wonderful; there's Zeus, when he's not drunk or high on
ozone; there's Negrita and Trigger and I always have Enzo in my
pocket. I could always visit Juno or Zwingly and have some human
company but wonderful as they are, I do find the superstars of the
human world slightly hard work. They are all so self-assured, so
perfect, so on top of things. I want some normal company, some more
people on Camillo. I could bring some dead people up from Earth but
I don't want to. I want to do what Ijju's doing and start a family
with Zula!

 

Isn't fourteen a bit young?
Many people these days wait until they are positively geriatric to
have babies. Is that better? My body feels like it's ready. I want
babies.
I pay a visit Castor.

'Castor,' I say
sheepishly, 'can I have a
private
look on the
Internet?'

'Private, no trouble. Of course
I'll see, but as you know, your secrets are safe with me.' He gives
me a wink then closes both eyes tight making his face crumple
up.
I laugh and give him a kiss on
the cheek.

I make some
Internet searches:
Is my body
ready to have children at 14? Are teenagers ready to have
children?
Teenage
mums
.

I read all that the Internet
has to say.
The first page I open
says, 'Teenage girls are not physically or physiologically mature
enough,' but when I read all the posts by teenage mums, it seems
that most of them very quickly do become mature enough as soon as
they've had the baby. There's a lot of waffle from the Christians
and the politicians, but they do make some valid points. It costs a
lot of money of raise a baby in the modern world, money that young
people don’t have. I don't think that's really a problem for me.
Then there's education, but why not just get educated later when
you know better what you want, like kids first when your bodies
ready for it and education later when you've grown up and know what
you want to do. Having babies late does slow down the population
time bomb, but that's not something normal people think of when
they are wrestling with a sexy partner, and definitely not a worry
on Camillo. Not yet, anyway.
The most sensible person I can
find is an author, Hilary. What she says agrees with what my body
is telling me and most of the teenage mums say.
I thank Castor and sit out on
my old sofa in front of my cottage. I sew patches on where the
holes are. I wish now that I hadn't been so rash and had kept my
old clothes for patches. I watch the clouds come and go and the
waves pounding on the beach, and I watch the world through the
worm.

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