Sorry, All the Names Were Used Up

‘Sorry I’m late. Someone tried to race me at a red light and I accidentally took the scenic route, proving my dominance.’

It was believable, but Rob could tell his boss wasn’t buying it. His excuses grew more outlandish by the week.

‘Well, then, I assume you’re staying late, to make up for the time you lost?’ His eyebrow quirked upwards, a look that said I-don’t-care imprinted on his features.

‘Well, you see, I would…’

Jamison rolled his eyes, silencing him with a wave of his hand.

‘Whatever. This comes out of your paycheck, you know that. Get moving. This is your last chance.’

Rob’s boss had a French drawl that made him sound rhythmic and charming to the customers, but Rob knew it was fake. Still, it gave Jamison a formal yet melodic intonation that was both intimidating and alluring.

‘Yep. Won’t happen again.’ Rob had said that more times than he could count.

Rob worked in the kitchen of a small, lesser-known fast-food joint, but it was on the side of a large cricket club and often groups of kids in once-white uniforms smeared with red dirt and covered in grimy sweat entered at once, filling the place up in an instant. He tied his apron behind his back and wiped off the beads of perspiration that were already forming on his forehead with the back of his hand, the other chef already dunking thin strips of potato in tubs of boiling hot oil.

‘Hey, Katie,’ Rob greeted, yelling above the deafening sizzle as nodules of crispy potato skin inflated in the tub.

‘Hey, Rob,’ Katie replied. ‘Wait –don’t tell me. You locked yourself in the bathroom while trying to have a shower. No, wait, your car’s Bluetooth didn’t connect and you couldn’t drive without your motivational playlist.’ She grinned lopsidedly at him. ‘Am I close?’

‘Very funny. Have you ever tried driving a car that makes a horrible scraping every time you turn? I needed the playlist or else I’d go insane.’ It was logical, to Rob. His car was 2010 Hyundai Accent with grey, chipped paint and the passenger’s side window that never rolled down all the way. It was better than being sandwiched between sweaty commuters on public transport, but sometimes Rob felt his car was just a handful of scraps lazily thrown together and ran on pure willpower.

‘You’re getting fired one of these days, you know that?’

It had been threatened time and time again, but never actually happened. Rob eventually realised that Jamison couldn’t fire him, because he’d have to find someone else, and not many people wanted to work on weekends and public holidays, when the restaurant was most busy.

‘Yeah, we’ll see. Hasn’t happened yet, has it?’ Oil spat at Rob but he barely flinched, his face still painted with a satisfied smirk. He knew he annoyed Katie with his constant tardiness. But it wasn’t his fault –something always came up. A news story he needed to read. An assignment he had to finish, that he’d forgotten about until the last minute. A favour one of his roommates needed. Or, like today, a scenic detour from his original path with the reward of smirking at the beefy, tattooed gym bro with biceps as big as Rob’s thighs who was edging him on at a red light left behind as Rob sped away.

‘We’ll see.’

Rob lived in an apartment with five bedrooms, a single bathroom with a tiny shower tucked in the corner, a kitchen with tiled floors speckled with an unknown stain, and a living room with a small T.V strung up on the wall. He shared it with four other boys –Malcom, a twenty-four year old who attended the same university as Rob, with aspirations of joining the medical field. Malcom was smart, down-to-earth and hardworking, yet Rob couldn’t tolerate his overzealous attitude and his ability to stick him with household chores. Jett, an angsty nineteen year old who had been kicked out for wanting to pursue art, who didn’t bother Rob much, his room a pigsty from the glimpses of it he had seen. And a pair of twins, Oscar and Toby, polar opposites in every way except for their hatred of pineapple on pizza –something Rob had unfortunately faced their wrath regarding on multiple occasions. Their apartment was tucked on the corner of a busy road where a tram cruised lazily down the middle while cars struggled to pass it, the air constantly polluted by plumes of smog emitted from construction vehicles parked down the road. It was two-story brick building with dark windows and a concrete slate out the front where Rob and his roommates often bickered over the parking space.

Rob parallel-parked his car outside his apartment on seeing Malcom’s jeep looming in front of the block. The night sky was a dusty blue, poisoned by streetlights and oncoming cars, carving through the darkness with blinding headlights so that not so much as a single star was visible.

The smell of dust and exhaust tickled Rob’s nose. He could still hear the machines from down the road working into the night. There was a strange wailing noise, too. Like a tiny, high-pitched scream from somewhere nearby.

The sensor light above the door flickered to life as Rob approached. He suddenly realised what the noise was –and his stomach dropped. A tiny person, with chubby cheeks and just a tuft of golden blond hair swaddled in a mass of blankets, tucked in a tiny carrier. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was crinkled in agony, a screech escaping his lips. A baby. On his doorstep.

Rob gingerly picked up the carrier and watched a slip of paper spiralling to the floor. He picked it up, now sodden with dirt and water, smearing the letters together.

Rob, it read. No more excuses. I can’t take care of him anymore. Here’s baby James. He’s yours.

Rob’s muscles seized. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. No, this couldn’t be right. Rob wasn’t a father. He was only twenty-three. He was too young. He still lived with his roommates. He still went to university and worked part-time. He didn’t have the time for a child.

Maybe he could pretend he never saw it, Rob reasoned. Walk straight past the child and wait until one of his roommates discovered it. Or maybe he could destroy the note and drop the baby at the fire station. Act as if he found the child on the side of the road and send it to its next-of-kin.

Rob’s mind was still spinning as he reluctantly brought the baby inside and flopped down on the couch, his head hanging in his hands. A pounding headache had clutched burning fingers on his brain, and he rubbed his temples, trying to get the pain to subside. The baby wailed, its mouth so little yet capable of releasing such an ear-splitting sound.

‘Quiet,’ Rob muttered, but the baby couldn’t understand him. He needed to move it before his roommates saw. They’d stick him with the responsibility.

‘Rob, what’s that noise?’ Rob’s blood ran cold. ‘Is that a baby?’ Malcom padded into the living room, his glasses pushed high against the bridge of his nose, deep pits under his eyes and a shadow on his chin yet somehow looking more alive than Rob felt.

‘No –uh, I don’t know, I just found it –him –on the doorstep.’ Rob stammered, running his hands through his dishevelled hair.

Malcom spied the note beside the carrier before Rob could hide it.

‘What’s that?’ He asked. Rob quickly concealed it in his hand, but it was too late.

‘Nothing.’

‘Is that a note?’

‘No!’

Malcom lunged at him, prying the saturated note from his clammy hands. His eyes scanned the paper.

‘This is your baby?’ He asked incredulously.

‘No? I don’t even have a girlfriend! It must be a mistake. This isn’t my baby.’ As soon as the words left his lips, Rob knew they weren’t true. He used to have a girlfriend. They broke up nine months ago. He had known she was pregnant and urged her to get rid of it. But she hadn’t wanted to. So he left, despite her tearily pleading for him to stay.

‘Well, whoever gave it to you clearly knows you.’ Malcom scoffed, frisbeeing the paper back to him. ‘I guess James is all yours now.’ As if on cue, James started wailing louder.

‘No! No, I can’t do this. I’m too young. This is clearly a mistake. I’m taking him to an adoption centre, or a fire station, or something. He can’t stay here.’

‘Rob, he’s your baby. You’re his father. You might be all he has. You can’t get rid of him.’

‘No, he’s not mine. I can’t take him. I have too much to live for, I can’t throw away my life for some baby.’

Malcom scoffed disbelievingly. ‘He’s not some baby. He’s your baby. He’s got your DNA. You have to take him.’

‘We don’t know that!’ Rob’s voice broke, his muscles slack and empty.

‘Okay, then find out,’ Malcom shrugged. ‘Take a paternity test. If he’s yours, keep him. If he’s not, then get rid of him.’ He hesitated. ‘You’ve got to take responsibility eventually, Rob. You can’t dodge commitment forever.’

Malcom flicked off the lights as he left, drowning Rob and the baby in darkness.

Rob awoke to screams. Deafening, ear-piercing wails of agony emanating from the bundle in front of him. He groggily sat up on the couch and stared blankly at the baby in front of him. His memories of the previous night were milky, but he remembered finding James on the doorstep, and the note that was still crumpled up beside him. He remembered cupping a hand over the baby’s mouth and willing him to be quiet as he awoke to the pitiful screams time and time again. But it never worked.

Now, the early morning sun was peeking through the faded curtains into the living room. Rob swore by this point he had melted into the couch, struggling to distinguish his exhausted muscles from the cushions they had sunk into. His mind was groggy and his eyelids felt heavy, as if he had never slept at all.

‘Morning, Rob. What’s going on? Why are you on the couch?’ Oscar was up, already dressed in a tightly-fitted running shirt and shorts cut just above the knee, revealing taunt and muscular quads. ‘And is that a baby? God, I swore I heard a baby crying last night,’ he marvelled incredulously. ‘Thought I was going crazy.’

‘Please,’ Rob croaked, his throat so scratchy the words were barely legible. ‘Let me sleep.’

‘Alright, then. I swear, though, if that baby keeps me up tonight you’re going to have to find a new place. I’m not giving up my sleep for it.’ Oscar said jokingly, but his smile faded revealing a hard edge to his words.

‘Fine, whatever.’ Rob groaned, his eyes drifting closed again.

Rob awoke to the stentorian racket of agonising cries as James pounded his tiny clenched fists beside him in the carrier.

‘No, no, please,’ Rob wailed. ‘Please be quiet.’ He cupped a pillow over his head, trying to drown out the noise that seemed to bounce around inside his brain.

‘He’s probably hungry,’ Malcom remarked from somewhere nearby. ‘Have you fed him yet?’

Rob reluctantly removed the pillow from over his head, plugging his ears with his fingers.

‘No. When would I have fed him?’ He snapped.

Malcom shrugged. ‘It’s been all day. What have you been doing?’ And then, to Rob’s dismay, ‘didn’t you have uni today?’

Rob’s heart sank. ‘Oh, no, God, no,’ he groaned, flipping over on the couch. ‘What time is it? Maybe I can still make it.’

‘Four-thirty. Gosh, have you been here all day?’

‘What! Four-thirty! Oh no, I missed uni, and I’ve got work that started –started half an hour ago! God, can that baby just shut up?’

‘That’s your baby, Rob,’ Malcom reminded him. ‘You shut him up. Give him something to eat.’

‘What do I give him?’ Rob frantically yelled. ‘No, I don’t have time for this. Can you just give him, I don’t know, a mashed banana, or something? I’m already so late. I’ve got to go.’ Rob sprung off the sofa, grabbing his keys which he left on the bench.

‘No, wait, I can’t look after him! I’ve got work too. I’m leaving in a couple of minutes. He’s your responsibility.’ Malcom protested. Rob twitched anxiously.

‘Take him with you! Leave him in the car or something, I don’t know. I’ve got to go.’

‘No, I can’t take him into a hospital. And leaving a baby alone in a car is like the number one don’t of parenting. You have to figure something out. I’m going.’ Malcom grabbed his keys off the bench and wrenched the door open with such force Rob worried he’d dislodge it from its hinges.

Rob turned to baby James in the basket. ‘What do you want? Huh? Milk? I’ve got –’ he yanked open the fridge to his small shelf, almost empty now. ‘Cow’s. Full cream. Expiry date –yesterday.’ James wailed louder, as if he knew what Rob was saying. ‘Okay, okay, sorry. Oh, god, what is that smell?’ Rob covered his nose, trying to wave the pungent odour away with his hand. I smelled like an overripe banana had been vomited up by a mangy street dog and reheated in the microwave. Rob gagged, hunching over the sink.

‘Rob! ROB! Shut that damn baby up! I’ve got an interview over Zoom in ten minutes!’ Toby peered out of his bedroom door, his face flushed with anger. ‘God, it’s been like this all day.’ He paused, breathing in the stench of the room. ‘Rob, you need to change that baby. It smells like a toxic gas has been released in here, oh, god,’ Toby gagged, retreating back into his room. Rob felt a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. He didn’t know how to change a nappy. He hardly even washed his own clothes, usually sneaking them into Oscar’s sweaty gym wear and retrieving them before he noticed.

Rob slowly approached James in the carrier, his breath thick in and out of his mouth. He could almost taste the stench radiating from the baby. He slowly undid the nappy, forcing hot vomit back down his throat. It was warm beneath his fingertips. Rob gingerly carried it to the bin, where he instantly dropped it in and started replacing the bin liner with a new one.

James had quietened by the time Rob returned. He lay on his back, his blue eyes tainted with redness creeping in from the sides, sniffles of satisfaction escaping his mouth. Rob finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He didn’t have another nappy, so he used a roll of paper towels that were on top of the fridge. He wrapped the towels around James’ lower half and around his legs, securing them with safety pins at the loose edges. Finally, James had quietened down, and the pounding in Rob’s head subsided. He gently backed away and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

‘Hello, Jamison. I’m just calling to let you know I won’t be able to make it in today.’ Rob sounded deflated, even to himself. ‘Someone dropped a baby on my doorstep and –’ Jamison cut him off.

‘It’s fine, Rob.’

Rob hesitated. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. We don’t need you anymore. Because you’re fired.’

There was a pause.

‘What?’

‘You didn’t think to call before your shift to let us know if you weren’t going to make it? We needed you during the lunch rush, Rob, and you didn’t show up.’ Jamison sighed. ‘You do this every time. Every time, a new excuse. You can’t keep doing this and expect to keep your job.’

‘No, please, I’ll do better, I swear,’ Rob pleaded. ‘Someone actually did drop a baby at my door and I have to –’ But Jamison heard none of it.

‘Whatever, Rob. I’m not interested in your excuses. Good luck finding a new job.’

‘No, wait!’

The call ended and Rob dropped his phone. He slumped back onto the couch, staring listlessly at baby James in the carrier. A deepening pit of dread was gnawing at his gut, gouging at his insides like a parasite of trepidation.

‘This is all your fault.’ He whispered to the baby. ‘If you hadn’t existed, none of this –’ Rob cut himself off. He realised he was wishing that the baby in front of him had never existed. Had never been brought into the world. Had never lived.

No, Rob realised. It wasn’t James’ fault. It was his own. His own negligence. His own disregard for everything –his work, his university, his girlfriend. He had done this. And now he needed to fix it.

‘I’m going to find a new job,’ Rob told the sleeping baby. ‘I’m going to do better. For you.’

But first, he needed to go to the store. He needed to pick up some baby formula. He’d just leave James home, he figured. He’d be fine for twenty minutes. But Rob caught himself before he could leave. He imagined Toby screaming at him for the baby’s behaviour. He imagined himself getting kicked out of the apartment, him and James, on the street together.

He needed to do better. So Rob reluctantly picked up the carrier and left with James dangling from his arm.

He didn’t know how he was going to afford formula, or his apartment, or his university. He didn’t know what he was going to do about James’ mother, his ex-girlfriend. But for once, Rob was confident he’d put in the work and him and his baby would make it out okay.