Slam (Nick Hornby)

Muli, maaraw nang ako’y magising. Dikta ng instinct, agad kong binuklat ang librong sadyang itinabi ko sa aking pagtulog kagabi at itinuloy ang pagbabasa. May tatlumpung minuto rin siguro ang lumipas nang pasukin ako sa kwarto ng ate ko at nagsimulang makipag-usap, senyales upang ako’y bumangon at iwan muli pansamantala ang nobela.

Napakaganda ng sikat ng araw ngayong araw na ito at habang minamalas ko ang tanawin mula sa bintana ng computer room, hindi ko mapigilang makaramdam ng kakaibang kasiyahan na nagbibigay ng kapanatagan sa aking kalooban. Naroroon sa bakuran, nagpapaaraw ang ate ko kasama ang aming pamangkin.

Nang muling bumalik ang aking ulirat, saka ko naalalang kaarawan ngayon ni Supremo (Andres Bonifacio).

Mahaba ang oras subalit hindi ako nakararamdam ng pagkabugnot. Hindi pa nauubos ang kaligayahang dulot ng pagkatanggap ko ng lisensya kahapon. Kaya siguro ganito ako kasaya ngayon.

Pagkatapos maghapunan saka ko pinasyang ituloy ang pagbabasa ng nobela. Tinapos ko ito at bagamat sumagi sa isip kong isunod ang Crank, pinasya kong matulog na.

Quotable Quotes

“I knew I was being a coward, but sometimes you have to be a coward, don’t you?
There’s no point in being brave if you’re just going to get destroyed. (p.115)

“But in my world a baby, even without a machine gun, is like a terrorist with a machine gun, if you think about it, because Roof was every bit as deadly to my chances of going to college to do art and design etc. as an al-Qaida operative. And actually, Alicia was another al-Qaida, plus also her mum and dad, plus also my mum, because when she found out, she would literally kill me dead.” (pp.115-116)

Alicia looked at me. I cleared my throat. Nobody said anything.
“I’m going to have a baby,” I said.
Whatever the reason, we couldn’t have had a worse start. Because Alicia made a kind of snorting sound, which was her trying not to laugh. I’d said something stupid because I was nervous… (p.164)

“I dunno.” And after I’d said it, I did know. “Actually, I like it. I like the idea of it.”
“Why?”
“I dunno.” And after I’d said it, I did know. Maybe I should never say anything, I thought. I should just listen to the questions and answer them on text or e-mail when I got home. (pp.180-181)

“You weren’t going to tell me I’m screwed for a third time, were you?”
“So explain why you’re not.”
“I can’t explain why I’m not. Because I am.” (p.196)

“When somebody tells a kid our age that he’s screwed, he’s usually not, is he? Not really. I mean, maybe it will end up with him getting a slap. Or a bollocking from a teacher. But it isn’t going to ruin their life, is it? Something little happens and it’s over. But you becoming a father … That’s serious, isn’t it? I mean, you really are––“
“Don’t say it again. Really. Otherwise you’re screwed. Old-school. In other words, I’ll have to give you a slap.” (p.196)

“Roof.” “This one.” “Dumpling.” Why didn’t people ever call babies their real names? (Sam, p.203)

“Hello.”
“It’s Bee.”
“Oh. Hello, Bee.”
“Bee. Not Bee.”
“Bee not Bee? What does that mean?”
“It’s Alicia. And I’ve got a cold. So I’m trying to say, you know, ‘It’s Alicia,’ except I’m saying ‘It’s Bee,’ and it comes out as ‘It’s Bee.’ “
“Me.”
“Yes. Bloody hell. Have you woken up stupid?”
“Yes.” It just seemed easier to admit it. (p.205)

I was sure I wasn’t the best dad in the world, but the feeling I’d got from Alicia and Roof when I went to pick him up was that I wasn’t the worst either. Not knowing your kid’s name, though… that wasn’t good. Even the worst dad in the world knows his kid’s name, which made me worse than the worst dad in the world. (pp.210-211)

“I call him Roof,” I said.
“What does everyone else call him?”
“We all call him Roof.”
“What’s his name?“
“I think I’d better come back tomorrow,” I said.
“Yeah,” said the woman. “When you’ve got to know him a bit better. Spend a little quality time with him. Have a father-son bonding session. Ask him his name, stuff like that.”
On the way to the park, I asked Roof his name.
“Rufus,” he said.
Rufus. Of course it was. I wish I’d asked him on the way there, instead of on the way out. (p.211)

I suppose kids are always being asked stuff they already know. (p.212)

Suddenly, she made tis terrible, terrible noise. She sounded like an animal, although I couldn’t tell you which animal, because I don’t know much about wildlife and all that. The closest to it ive ever heard was a donkey, in a field next to our hotel in Spain. The watch nearly ended up in the bath again, this time because I near;y jumped out of my skin. (p.233)

“What was that?” she said.
I looked at her. She didn’t know? She thought there was someone else in the room? Or a donkey?
“It was . . . It was you,” I said. I didn’t like saying it. It sounded rude.
“Not the noise, you fucking fucking moron,” she said. I know that was me. The timing. How many minutes?”
I was relieved that I hadn’t made understood, because that meant she wasn’t going mad. On the other hand, I didn’t know how many minutes it was, and I knew she’d be angry with me.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” she said. “Why the bloody bastard hell not?”
They warned us in the classes about the bad language. The woman said that our partners might call us names and say things they didn’t mean, because of the pain and all that. I’d got the idea that she wasn’t going to start swearing until the pushing bit, though, so this wasn’t a good sign. (p.234)

And I know it sounds stupid, but one of the things im most proud of in my life is that I didn’t say, “Me too.” I felt like saying it, of course. It was already frightening and it hadn’t even started yet. I just said, “It’ll be fine,” and squeezed her hand back. It wasn’t much use, what I said. But it was better than saying “Me too” and bursting into tears and/or running away to Hastings. (pp.234-235)

I plugged the CD player in and put on my CD, which probably seems a bit selfish to you. But my thinking was that nobody would mind my music too much at the beginning, so I could get it out of the way. And as it was all loud and fast and skate music, it might give Alicia some energy. The first song was “American Idiot” by Green Day.
“Turn that off before I kill you,” she said. “I don’t want to hear about American idiots.” So that was the end of my music. I put her CD on.
“What is that shit?” she said. “It’s horrible.”
“I told you this wouldn’t be any good.” I said. I couldn’t resist it. I knew it wasn’t the right time, but I knew I’d been right to tell her.
“This isn’t mine,” said Alicia. “You must have put this on.”
“That is such a lie,” I said. I was really angry. I didn’t like Justin Timberlake (and I still don’t), so I wasn’t happy about her saying that he was my choice. But it was the unfairness that got me most of all. I’d told her it was shit! I’d told her it wouldn’t be right for her labor! And now she was telling me it was all my idea. (p.237)

“For the next however many hours we’re in here, we all do what she says, and agree with what she says, and get her what she wants, OK?”
“OK.”
“This is good practice,” she said.
“For what?”
“Having a kid. You have to let things go about fifty times a day.” (p.238)

Neither of us was sure about having Alicia’s mum at the birth. But we would have been in trouble without her. I’d have stomped off home in a rage before Roof was born, leaving Alicia with the stupid music that she chose driving her mental while she was trying to have a baby. The truth was, we needed a parent, not a kid. (pp.238-239)

She stopped sounding like a donkey and started sounding like a lion which is having one of itss eyes poked out with a stick. And it wasn’t just that she sounded angry either. She actually was angry. She called me names and her mum names and my mum names, and she called the nurse names. It sounded to me like the names she was calling me were worse than the names she was calling the others, which is why Andrea kept having to stop me from walking out the door, but to be honest I might have just been looking for an excuse to leave. (pp.241-242)

I hate time. It never does what you want it to. (p.288)