I jumped to my feet. ‘Brilliant! Problem solved. I need to gain fatherhood skills.’
Lydia maintained a professional level of calmness. She turned to Sonia.
‘How do you feel about that? Do you think Don understands what’s required?’
Sonia nodded. ‘I’m very happy. I’m happy for all the things he taught me about pregnancy because I am too busy with the study, but now I’ll make sure he is thinking only about being a papa.’
Lydia picked up the police file that had been sitting on the desk and smiled.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘our time is up. Assisting with your parenting was never the official purpose of these sessions, and in that respect you’re going to be picked up by the Good Fathers program. I’ll be getting a report from them.’
This was the men’s group that she had referred me to at our first meeting to assess my propensity for violence. The program I had booked was still seven weeks in the future.
She waved the police file. ‘But as far as parenthood is concerned, if the two of you can keep reminding each other what you’ve said today—’
‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘A highly productive session. I’ll book the next available slot.’
‘She was going to let you off,’ said Sonia.
‘I suspected that. But what she said was so useful.’
‘She’s still got that police file. Couldn’t we—you—find another therapist?’
‘A significant percentage of professionals are incompetent. And she is familiar with us now.’
‘Us. You and Rosie, the Italian peasant.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Her insight was incredible. She solved the problem.’
20
In retrospect, I had been on the correct path when I observed the children at the playground. Had I not been interrupted—and sidetracked—by a legal technicality, I would have gained the required background on fatherhood, which I now realised was where my attention should be focused.
Recent experience had suggested that I could not ignore the pre-birth stage. Sonia was herself an example of a woman who was unsatisfied with her partner’s level of involvement in the pregnancy phase. After some reflection, I decided that there were at least four areas for action and skill development that did not involve interfering with Rosie’s autonomy:
1. Acquisition of expertise in dealing with very young children. The Book was clear that men should develop skills in baby management to provide respite for their partner. Although Rosie had been dismissive of my role as carer, The Book (and Sonia and Lydia) presented a strongly opposing view.
2. Equipment acquisition, including environment preparation. The baby would require protection from sharp objects, poisonous substances, alcohol fumes and band practice.
3. Acquisition of expertise in obstetric observations and procedures. The Book was insistent on the importance of regular medical appointments. Rosie was disorganised in this area and over-reliant on her own medical expertise. Also, there was the possibility of some sort of emergency.
4. A non-intrusive approach to the nutrition problem. I did not trust Rosie to maintain a diet within the guidelines. Her ordering of the meatlovers’ pizza suggested that factors other than rational analysis were influencing her choices.
The final item was the easiest. Rosie had implicitly agreed to the list of banned substances. I would make the conservative assumption that food purchased by Rosie outside the apartment had zero nutritional value and design our meals to include all the prescribed nutrients in appropriate proportions.
I would vary the detail of the Standardised Meal System (Pregnancy Version) by choosing different fish varieties and green vegetables, thus hiding its underlying structure from Rosie. It would be simpler now that she was a meat eater. She had also entered the second trimester of the pregnancy, where the risk of damage to Bud by toxins that she might ingest from her unsupervised meals had lessened. The hard work had been done, at some cost to our relationship, but I could now relax a little.
Things were looking much more positive.
Rosie was back at university for the fall semester. She had a tutorial on the Saturday morning and told me that, having made the journey to Columbia, she would spend the remainder of the day there.
I began my solo day by drawing a one-to-one scale, apple-sized Bud on Tile 15. The Book noted that Bud’s ears had migrated from his neck to his head, and his eyes to the middle. It would have been fascinating to discuss with Rosie, but she was not present. And I had not forgotten her admonition about providing technical commentary.
The obvious starting point for the equipment-acquisition project was a pram: all babies require prams, and I considered myself better qualified than Rosie to select mechanical items. My bicycle represented the result of a three-month evaluation process, culminating in the selection of the appropriate base model plus a list of modifications. I expected the experience to be largely transferable.
At the end of a fulfilling day, interrupted only by food purchasing, lunch and essential bodily functions, my internet-based investigation had produced a set of requirements for the ideal pram and a shortlist of available models, none perfect, but all potentially viable after some modification. I had a satisfying sense of making progress, but decided not to share this with Rosie. It could be another surprise.
There was a second item of equipment which was more critical, at least in terms of the lead time required for thinking and implementation. Rosie had identified the problem of noise from upstairs. However, I had not informed her of the exact agreement with George, which allowed for unlimited music practice at all hours.
The Skype call came through on schedule at 7.00 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time; 9.00 a.m. Sunday, Australian Eastern Standard Time.
‘How’s the weather there, Donald?’ said my mother.
‘Minimal change from last week. Still summer. The weather is normal for late August.’
‘What’s that in the background? Are you in the toilet? You can call back when you’re finished.’
‘This is my office. It’s very private.’ Rosie was home and I did not want her listening while I worked on the second surprise.
‘I should hope so. How was your week?’
‘Fine.’
‘You’re well?’
‘Fine.’
‘And Rosie?’
‘Fine.’
If we were using only text messages, I could have replaced myself with a simple computer application. The Fine application. Possibly it would be better than I was at interspersing the occasional ‘good’ and ‘very well’. But this evening/morning, a variation was required.
‘I need to speak to Dad.’
‘You want to speak to your father?’ The speech quality was excellent—fine—but my mother no doubt wanted to confirm the unusual request. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Of course. I have a technical problem.’
‘I’ll get him.’ Rather than getting him, my mother shouted, ‘Jim! It’s Donald. He has a problem.’
My father does not waste time with formalities.
‘What’s the problem, Don?’