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Davy walked into the kitchen flipping through the mail in his hands.
"Anything interesting?" asked Mike.
"No, just bills... another eviction notice... and a letter for me," he said in surprise.
Micky looked up, mildly interested, "Who's it from?"
Davy opened it and read the first few lines. His eyes widened.
"Well?" asked Micky, "Who sent it?"
"It's just a letter from home," said Davy slowly.
"Oh," said Micky, going back to his breakfast.
Davy put the other letters down, still holding his letter, and went out onto the beach.
"Where are you going?" asked Mike.
"For a walk, I'll be back soon."
Davy walked along the beach, thinking and re-reading the letter.
Dearest Davy,
Do you remember the time we first met? At that fancy dance that neither of us wanted to be at. Do you remember what happened that night? I doubt it, we were both very drunk at the time. What I'm trying to tell you is that you have a daughter. Her name is Violet and she's just over a year old. I'd like you to meet her, and I want you and me to be together again. Meet me at Royal Park at two thirty on July sixth.
Yours, Dorothy
Gosh Dorothy, thought Davy, you couldn't have left it any later, could you? July sixth was tomorrow. But this was crazy; him? With a daughter? That didn't seem right. And the bit about them getting back together, well, Dorothy was a nice girl and all, but he hadn't seen her for nearly two years, and it wasn't like they'd had an actual relationship. They'd met once or twice in town, then they met again at a dance, they both had too much to drink and one thing led to another. A month later Davy had moved to America, not having met Dorothy again since the dance, only vaguely remembering what had happened. Now, almost two years later, at age 18, she turns up out of the blue, with a baby.
Davy sat down on the sand, this was all so soap-opera-ish, like it wasn't meant to happen in real life. And what about the others? Mike and Micky and Peter. If he told them they would undoubtedly give him a lecture on responsibility. As if he didn't already know that drinking, having unprotected sex and getting a girl pregnant was irresponsible. They would lose all the respect they had for him.
Davy was in big trouble now and he couldn't let the others know. There was only one thing to do; Meet Dorothy at the park.
Davy spotted Dorothy right away, sitting on a park bench. It may have been two years but she hadn't changed much, same brown eyes and blonde hair, same dimple on the right cheek, only now she was holding a baby.
Davy stood for a moment staring, it was incredible, unbelievable, he actually had a daughter!
"Davy!" Dorothy called suddenly, breaking Davy out of his trance, "Davy!" She waved her hand at him.
Davy made his way over. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, which Dorothy broke, "Hi Davy, it's good to see you again."
"Good to see you too."
"Sit down."
Davy sat down next to her on the bench.
"Uh... this is Violet," said Dorothy, looking at the baby in her arms.
"She's beautiful," said Davy, "But are you sure she's mine?"
"Davy, I was 16, you were the only one."
Davy nodded, "Can I hold her?"
Dorothy held out the baby, Davy gathered up the little girl in his arms. Violet smiled and waved her tiny fists. Davy grinned, "She's adorable."
"You wouldn't want to lose her, would you?" asked Dorothy softly.
"No, if I'd known I had a daughter I wouldn't have left England." Violet hooked her hand around Davys finger.
"Exactly," said Dorothy, her voice suddenly hard, "Do you know how hard it is to look after a baby all alone? I've hardly slept since she was born. I need help."
Davy looked up, slightly surprised by the harshness of Dorothys voice, "I can help-"
"I need help 24 hours a day Davy! You're in that band thing, aren't you?"
"Yeah..."
"Do you get much money from it?"
"Well, no, not really..." said Davy uncomfortably.
"Then quit, get a real job."
Davy looked at her in shock, "I can't do that! That would be letting the others down. Anyway, I don't want to quit."
Dorothy sighed loudly, "Oh well, I guess I'll have to take Violet back to England with me. There are people there who have money..."
"Don't do that! I swear I'll find money somewhere."
"If you promise." Dorothy smiled smugly.
Had Davy looked to the left side of the park he would have seen Micky watching him. Micky had at first planned to go over but had decided against it on seeing that Davy was talking to a girl, which wasn't uncommon. The fact that the girl he was talking to had a baby was what made this seem un-natural. Davy seemed to know the girl, just as the girl seemed to know him, but Micky had never seen her before. He wondered if it had anything to do with the letter Davy had gotten yesterday and claimed was from home.
The way Davy had paused before saying who it was from had made Micky suspicious and he had a knack for telling when someone was lying. He did a lot of it himself so he knew all the tricks. But who would Davy be getting mysterious letters from?
Davy spent the next six weeks meeting Dorothy and Violet in secret. Dorothy was still pressing for him to quit the band but he always brushed it off, although it was making him uncomfortable as she got more persistent. Davys relationship with Dorothy was
strained, she always seemed to want to be around him but would stand uncomfortable. Davy also felt uncomfortable around her, he didn't know her at all, he barely remembered the one time they had met. All this aside, Davy's relationship with Violet had grown so strong that it was hard not to mention her in front of Micky, Peter and Mike. On days that they couldn't meet Davy missed her and Dorothy admitted that Violet got restless if he hadn't been in to see her by two PM.
It was on the first Friday of June that Dorothy dropped the bombshell on Davy."I'm going back to England."
Davy looked up from his spot on the ground where he was playing with Violet.
"And I'm taking Violet with me."
Davy stood up, "But you can't!"
"I can and I'm going to," said Dorothy.
"But that's not fair! She's my daughter too, you can't take her away from me!"
"You don't have any money Davy, if I stay here Violet and I will starve." Dorothy picked up Violet. "You can't stop me from leaving. You can go now Davy, and don't come back."
"When are you leaving?" asked Davy.
"In two weeks," answered Dorothy.
'Two weeks,' thought Davy as he walked back to the Pad. Not much could be done in two weeks, but maybe if he had some help he could persuade her not to leave. But to get help he'd have to tell the others.
Mike was the only one home when Davy returned. He was casually strumming his guitar, sitting at the kitchen table. Davy sat down at the opposite end of the table, as far away from Mike as possible, he didn't doubt that Mike could hit hard, fiddling with the letter from Dorothy.
"Where have you been?" asked Mike as he put down the guitar.
"Just out, where are Micky and Peter?"
"Shopping, law of the land says that if we don't eat we don't live."
"Oh."
There was a slight pause. Davy took a deep breath, "Mike, can I talk to you about something?"
Mike glanced at him, "Something serious?"
Davy nodded, "Maybe you should read this." Davy pushed Dorothys letter towards him.
Mike picked up the letter and, with a glance at Davy, began to read. Davy suddenly became interested in the table.
Mike finished reading and stared at Davy for a moment, "God Davy," he said finally, "How stupid are you?"
Here it comes, thought Davy, the responsibility lecture.
"I thought you were so much smarter than that," Mike began to pace the kitchen, "Do you have any idea how irresponsible that is?"
"I know," said Davy, not daring to look up.
"Since when did you drink? What else did you do in England that we should know about?"
"Nothing, I-"
"How many other times have you gotten drunk and gotten girls pregnant?"
"It was only one time!"
"You idiot Davy!" yelled Mike, "What do you want us to do about it?"
At that moment Micky and Peter came in, holding two bags of shopping each. They stopped short when they saw the looks on Davy and Mikes faces.
"What's going on?" Micky ventured.
Mike looked at Davy angrily, "Davy has a daughter," he said patronizingly.
Davy didn't turn around to see the shocked looks he expected were on Micky and Peters faces. He stood up, almost as angry as Mike, "I didn't come to you for a lecture! I came to you for help-"
"Help?!" said Mike incredulously, "What sort of help do you need? Is the mother trying to load the baby on you? You're so stupid you almost deserve it!"
"You don't understand Mike!"
"I understand Davy. You were 16, you were incredibly stupid, you got drunk and you got a girl pregnant! How could you not think of the consequences? And now that you're in this mess you need our help to get out of it."
Davy stared at him angrily for a moment, Mike noticed there were tears in his eyes, then Davy turned around, pushed through Micky and Peter, and left.
There was a moment of silence. "I don't think you should have come down so hard on him," said Micky quietly. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Mike, "Read it."
"Don't tell me you have a kid too," said Mike, but he read the letter.
Dear Micky,
Thank you for being concerned about our brother. Yes he does have a daughter, only he doesn't, or didn't, know. It happened about two years ago when Davy was going through a really hard time. His best friend Harry died. He was really upset and wouldn't do anything for ages, then we forced him into going to this party we were going to. He met Dorothy. Things sort of went from there.
Mike stopped reading, he'd read enough. He looked up at Micky, "How did you get this?"
"Well I saw Davy in the park with Dorothy and the baby about a month ago, then I saw them in other places too and I started to get suspicious, so I wrote to his sisters."
Mike sighed, "I better go talk to him."
"No," said Micky quickly, "He'll still be angry at you, I'll go."
Micky wandered down to the empty beach where he saw Davy sitting on one of the sand dunes. Davy was watching the waves and hadn't noticed him, as Micky came closer he saw that there were tears running down his friends face.
"Davy?"
Davy looked away from the sea and up at Micky, "What?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.
"Mikes sorry, he didn't mean to yell at you. You surprised him, that's all."
"But he's right," said Davy, looking back at the waves, "I was so stupid, it's all my fault."
"It wasn't your fault." Micky paused, "I found out about it ages ago."
Davy looked up, "You did?"
"Yeah," Micky sat down on the sand next to him, "I saw you at the park and got suspicious, I wrote to your sisters."
Davy bit his lip, "What did their reply say?"
"Everything that led up to the night of the party where you met Dorothy."
More tears fell, "Did they..."Davy faltered, "Did they tell you about Harry?"
"Yeah, they did."
Davy looked back at the waves, "I would have told you about everything, I just... couldn't."
"It's alright Davy, I don't mind, really." Micky looked at the waves also for a while. "So," he said eventually, "You and Harry were good friends?"
"The best," said Davy, "We did everything together, we were even going to rent a house and split the rent..." Davy trailed off, "We never got round to it."
"I'm sorry man," said Micky, "Do you mind me asking...how it happened?"
Davy was quiet for a while, he didn't look away from the ocean, "He killed himself," he said quietly, "Me and Harry were just driving down the street and Harry looked at me and said, 'I wonder what it feels like to die,' then he spun the steering wheel and crashed the car into the nearest lamp post, I woke up almost three days later in the hospital."
"He tried to kill you too?" asked Micky.
Davy shrugged, "We promised each other that we'd go everywhere together, to Heaven or Hell as need be."
"You actually promised that?"
"Yeah, and I would have kept the promise too, only everyone knew about it so they hid the pills and stuff."
"Would you really have killed yourself?"
Davy looked up at him, "I would have done anything for Harry."
"Would have?"
"It's been two years, that's a long time for me to think about stuff, I don't think killing myself would be the right way to go about it. I've got stuff to live for now... like you guys, and I have Violet..."
"Your daughter?"
"Yeah."
"Listen Davy, if the mother's trying to get you to take the baby we can all help..." he trailed off as Davy shook his head.
"She's not trying to give me Violet."
"But you told Mike you needed help, I don't understand..."
"Dorothy is going back to England, she wants to take Violet with her."
"Oh," said Micky, not really knowing what else to say.
"I don't want to lose my daughter Mick, I already lost her once."
"Don't worry Davy, we'll all help you."
"What about Mike? He's really angry at me."
"No he's not, he'll help."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely."
Davy smiled.
"You know what else I'm sure of?" asked Micky.
"What?" asked Davy.
"If we stay here much longer, the tide is going to come in and we're going to get wet."
To Be Continued...
Responsibility Two
"What if she doesn't come?" asked Davy nervously.
"She'll be here," Micky reassured.
Davy, Micky, Peter and Mike were standing on the sidewalk outside Royal Park, waiting for Dorothy to turn up.
Five minutes passed. Davy looked around uncertainly.
Mike placed a hand on his shoulder, "She's only ten minutes late-"
"Yes I am, sorry about that," said Dorothy, coming up from behind them, holding Violet in her arms. "Who are they?" she asked Davy, motioning to Mike, Micky and Peter.
"My friends," said Davy.
"Yeah!" put in Mike, "And we don't think it's fair that you come to America, tell Davy he has a daughter, then walk out on him."
Dorothy glared at Mike, "Davy doesn't have enough money to support me and Violet here," she said defensively.
"But you can't just take Violet away from me!" cried Davy.
Dorothy looked at him for a moment, "Violet?" she said softly, "That's all you care about isn't it? You don't care about me! I thought you loved me Davy."
"I don't even know you Dorothy! I met you once and I was so drunk I don't even remember it!"
Dorothy looked at him, tears and determination shining in her eyes. "Alright then, but if you wont have me, no one will." She hoisted Violet up on to her shoulder, then the street of on-coming traffic. There was the sound of screaming tires as a bus slammed on the breaks.
Davy spun round and Micky grabbed him, "Oh God, tell me they didn't get hit!" he sobbed into Mickys shirt.
Micky didn't answer, he was staring white faced at the scene on the road.
Davy stood outside the glass, looking through. His face was tear stained but, for the moment, the tears had stopped.
Micky came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, he didn't need to say anything because Davy already knew what he wanted to say, and he didn't bother asking if Davy was alright because he knew he wasn't. He simply stood there, looking through the glass into the white hospital room, watching Davy's year-old daughter fight for her life.
They stood there for a long while. "Where are Mike and Peter?" Davy asked finally, not taking his eyes off Violet.
"Peter's with Dorothy and Mike's talking to the police," answered Micky, "The cops wanted to come and interview you but Mike wouldn't let them."
Davy nodded, "Remind me to thank him later. How's Dorothy?"
Micky hesitated, "That's actually why I came."
Davy finally drew his gaze away from Violet. "Why?"
"There's internal bleeding and the doctors say they can't stop it. She's going to die."
Davy looked back at the small room his daughter was in. He was silent. "She asked me to come get you. She wants to talk to you."
Davy didn't answer.
"The doctors diagnosed her with schizophrenia."
"They did?" asked Davy.
"Yeah."
Davy thought for a moment, "I want to go see Dorothy," he said finally, "Can you stay here and watch Violet?"
"Oh course," said Micky.
"Thanks." Davy took one last look at Violet, then turned and left.
Micky looked at the baby and at all the tubes and needles and things she needed to keep her alive.
"Now don't you die," he said through the glass, "This is hard enough on Davy already."
There was no sign to acknowledge Mickys words.
Davy entered Dorothy's room. He'd never liked hospitals, he couldn't understand how some people could say that they seemed peaceful. To him they felt like death. Dorothy looked up at him and said in a faint whisper, "I'm sorry."
Davy didn't say anything.
"Is Violet alright?"
"I don't know, the doctors wont tell me much."
"I didn't mean to hurt her-" started Dorothy.
"No," said Davy, "You meant to hurt me."
Davy knew that Dorothy was schizophrenic and had two different personalities (A/N: That was for the benefit of any of you who don't know what schizophrenia is. I know I just repeated myself.), and he knew that she was dying, but that didn't stop him from being angry at her. His daughter was dying!
"I'm very sorry," said Dorothy, "I don't want to die. I know I'm going to but I don't want to. I don't want Dorothy to die either."
Dorothy paused and took a few deep breaths, her face draining of colour.
"You will look after Violet, wont you?" she asked.
"Of course," said Davy, "I'd never do anything to hurt her."
"I didn't doubt you for a second."
Just then Micky ran through the door. "Davy! Davy, you'd better come quick!" he cried.
Davy turned and rushed through the door, without a second glance back at Dorothy. "What's going on?" asked Davy as he and Micky ran through the halls.
"I don't know," said Micky breathlessly, "All the doctors are in with Violet, they wont tell us what's happening."
Davy and Micky ran to Violets room and stopped outside the glass. There was a crowd of doctors around Violet doing official-looking medical stuff. Mike and Peter were watching also.
Davy stared wide-eyed through the glass, "What's going on?" he asked again, his voice shaking.
No one answered.
Mike put his hands on the shorter boys shoulders. Davy stood, transfixed. He was only dimly aware of Mikes hands on his shoulders, trying to comfort him, it wasn't working.
Davy was thinking about soap operas. When he'd first found out he had a daughter he'd thought about how it sounded like something from a soap opera, now it had continued the story to it's last terrifying moments.
He wished he could just walk off set and say to the director, 'I quit!' Too bad you can't do that in real life.
It all seemed like a soap opera, as if the doctors were acting and weren't doctors, and Violet wasn't really dying.
Micky suddenly appeared at his side, snapping Davy out of his trance. The doctors had stopped working, was that good or bad?
A doctor came out, "Mr. Jones?" he asked, looking around at the four people.
"That's me," said Davy, "Is Violet-"
The doctor cut him off, "Violet is physically fine, although there is some slight brain damage."
"What kind of brain damage?" asked Davy hesitantly. "Well she'll be a normal child, except she'll learn slower. Learning to talk and such will be difficult for her, and learning to read and write."
"But she's alive?"
"Yes," the doctor smiled, "She'll be just like any other normal person."
Davy lay on his bed, fiddling with his tambourine, tapping his fingers against it lightly and absentmindedly. It had been a week since Violet had come home from the hospital. Mike, Micky and Peter had spent a day child-proofing the house while Davy stayed at the hospital, intent on spending every waking moment with his daughter. Violet had only just fallen asleep for her afternoon nap and Davy was exhausted. He'd been up all night with Violet and was ready to collapse. He'd already crashed out on the couch but had been woken by Micky and Peter playing tag, and, after listening to Mike firmly tell to two off, he'd walked tiredly up the stairs to his bed.
Even with the three others in the house taking care of Violet was a full time job. He was lucky he had such good friends to help him.
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