“We do love each other. I think we always have. Even when I made myself forget that you even existed Axel. I always felt that something was missing. That there was something I had lost, and I couldn’t find it. Sorry, now I am writing crappy poetry in my head and it’s coming out of my mouth. Sorry.”
Axel smiles against his chest. Jens can feel it. The way Axel’s cheek moves against his skin.
“Axel, would you be willing to try? Would you even consider taking all this on? Being part of this family? I mean, it would be your family. We would be your family too. I know it won’t be easy, and I have no doubt the kids will make your life hell at times, but if we tried. Maybe, if we tried, the kids would grow to like you, to let you be part of their lives too. I’m rambling, sorry. Sorry Axel. I shouldn’t be asking all this of you.”
“It’s okay. I love that you are asking. And remember, I am the guy who has had a hopeless ridiculous crush on you for the last twenty years. It’s not like I am going to say no, is it?”
And Jens laughs that warm laugh he does, where his dimples pop through the stubble on his cheeks, that Axel seems not to be able to resist to touch. Stroking the coarse hairs with his fingertips while his head angles up so he can see. Stroking. Feeling. Quite a few little kisses finding their way home onto his own skin.
“Let’s just take things slow, Jens. Let things happen. Let’s hang out. Be friends. Friends who find the time sometimes to do things like this. Like lie in bed on a Monday afternoon and kiss. Do more sexy things. Maybe get naked.”
Axel winks. Axel bloody winks at him and Jens can’t help that his cheeks are filling with heat, blushing with thoughts that he still can’t quite make sense out of.
“Go get in the shower Axel. Let me sort out this bed. Make you coffee.”
“Now you’re talking, baby. Mmm… Coffee.”
Jens wonders how it can be this easy. How it can be this right. How two people just kind of fit. How Axel fits into his space. How he doesn’t want him ever to leave.
And Axel… Axel just beams. Smiles in the shower as he washes himself clean. Rinses his flannel trousers in the sink before carefully placing them in the laundry basket. Wondering if that is okay, or totally out of line. Well, the basket is full, so he empties it into the washing machine. Finds the laundry tablets and figures out which button to press. START looks like a good one. Little socks and jumpers with childish prints swirling around inside the drum with the odd glance of his trousers. It feels weird. Unreal. Homely.
Axel is terrified. Yet he is home. This is strangely exactly his idea of being home.
www.parentingnetworknorway.no/askAxel /blog/thirdwheelingit
THIRD WHEELING IT
Thank you for all the replies to last week’s post. Again, I am overwhelmed by the response, the stories and the love you have taken the time to send me. I appreciate them all, and in a strange way, all the outpouring of support has made me feel less alone. Less confused and much more confident in going forwards in my little adventure with J. Because so many of your messages tell me I am not the only one finding myself in the situation I am in. Being the third wheel in a relationship where there are children involved. Where the situation feels so overwhelming that sometimes you think you should just walk away.
A lot of parents who find themselves in the delivery room tell me the same thing. What have I done? How will I ever cope with bringing this baby into the world? How will I cope as a parent? How will I bring this baby up right? How will I protect this little person, and make them know how loved they are? How precious they are? And how, how can I help them become the best person they can be? Yet how can I walk away? They can’t. And neither can I.
I am not a parent, and none of the babies I have brought into the world are my own. And although I am supposedly an expert on the care of new-borns, I have never cared for or raised a child of my own. I have no idea how it’s done. How parenting is done. How I would cope in that situation. I have nothing but admiration for each and every parent who walks out of this hospital with their baby. They are embarking on an incredible adventure as a family. A lifelong journey of love. Of hope and tears, and dramatic life changes. Never-ending twisting roads of choices and decisions and words, and paths taken that maybe we didn’t intend to take. It’s not always our choice.
It seems that a lot of you are keen to find out what has gone on with J this week. Well, let me update you on my life then. I have worked. Worked and slept. My life is probably just like yours, full of routine and patterns and ways that things are done. This week for me has been chaotic. Completely different. Strange. Incredible. Hard. Some days it has been incredibly hard.
I have spent some time with J’s family, His children. There has been a lot of hostility. Anger and hurt. The feeling that I am intruding. That I should not be there. But there have been laughs. Moments that I look back on and I can’t stop smiling. There has been love. Gratitude. And a lot of feelings I can’t quite put into words.
It feels like J and I have jumped onto this rollercoaster, head first, and now we can’t stop it even if we try.
He is an amazing human being. A gentle soul. As a father, he is loving and playful and ridiculous at times. His children adore him, they clearly do. As do I. Because he is just the same as he was twenty years ago. Not much has changed. He is still him. The boy I once fell head over heels in love with.
I can’t walk away now. We are hopelessly entwining our lives again. Jumping right in without thinking. Yet we are older. Hopefully wiser. And we are talking. We are talking a lot.
I am the third wheel in the relationship of every couple that I have the honour delivering babies for. They need me there, but I am always intruding. I am not part of their family, yet I am. I am invited into their lives for a few hours and I am incredibly grateful for the time I get to spend with them. I get to be part of the most incredible experience their family will ever go through. The birth of their child.
I am third wheeling in J’s family too. I am not part of the family. I am a stranger. An outsider. A man turning up at their family outings and being treated politely. Standoffishly nice.
Yet I have felt loved. Accepted. Offered Popcorn and asked what my favourite fast-food treat is. Then laughed at and poked fun at. Of course.
I am hoping, that if we try. If we just take things slow. Maybe being part of J's family can be nice. Maybe this can somehow work.
I don’t know what I am doing. But I will try. I will try and do the best I can to make this something good. Something we can build on. I will no doubt make mistakes, and God knows, I have said the wrong thing quite a few times already. But I hope, I hope just by trying, trying to do this right, it will be enough.
This week I have focused on questions with regards to just that. All your ‘I don’t know what I am doing’ questions. Because I am right there with you. None of us know what we are doing in life. We just have to try. To do the best we can.
Axel x
University of Oslo, Norwegian Literature Department, Blindern, Oslo
One week later
Jens cannot stop. He just can’t. It’s there in his head all the time. Every second of the day. Even when he tries hard to concentrate and be all adult about it. He thinks about it all the time.