From father to son

Ball's girlfriend Jay is pregnant.

She tested herself with a pregnancy kit after her period failed to arrive. She believes she has been pregnant about a month.

I was sharing a drink with Ball, his Mum and a family friend when Jay called Ball upstairs.

She told him the news. A moment later, he returned to the living room, where he sat quietly for the next 20 min, until I asked him why he was so subdued.

''Has Jay told you? She is pregnant,' he said.

I was surprised, but excited at the same time.

Neither Jay nor Ball takes precautions, but nor are they physically robust.

They fall ill with colds, and complain of aches and pains often. Ball was a sickly baby, and assumed he couldn't get a girl pregnant even if he tried. Jay, he thought, was just as unlikely to be fertile.

I asked Ball if I could go upstairs to talk to Jay alone. He agreed.

I found Jay preparing to take a shower. She was about to go out for the day with friends.

Ball didn't mind, he said, as he was happy to spend the day at home.

Jay looked miserable, but I told her the news may not be as bad as she thinks.

'I have waited a long time for something to come along and change Ball's life for the better. I think this might be it,' I told Jay.

'I may have to return to my father in Chiang Mai,' she said sadly. 'Ball's family may not want me if I am pregnant.'

''Stop worrying. I am sure everything will be fine,' I said.

Ball's family is sure to embrace another child entering their lives. The two toddlers who live there are a huge hit; everyone loves them.

I returned downstairs.

'I don't want to tell Mum just yet. I will wait until we are alone,' Ball whispered.

'How do you feel?' I asked.

'At first I didn't feel anything, as I didn't know what to think. But now I am getting excited,' he said.

Ball is warming to the idea of being a Dad. He knows he will have to moderate the drinking, though insists no one can stop him indulging if he feels the need.

'Can we still go out together to karaoke nights, and see each other regularly?' he asked me. 'If you leave me, I will have no one.'

My young man needs friends. He seldom sees other youngsters in the slum. His family isn't much good to him either.

His three brothers and sister are closer to each other than they are to him, which I believe is a legacy of their father's history as a drinker.

Their father, whose framed photograph hangs proudly on the living room wall, died of alcoholism about three years ago.

Ball is proud of the fact that, of all the kids, Dad was closest to him.

Ball, the third child who idolised his dad, was his father's carer...making him meals, following him about the slum when Dad was drunk, cleaning up after Dad when he soiled himself.

'Some days I didn't want to come home from school, as I knew I would have to look after Dad,' said Ball.

I have never heard the other kids talk about their father even once. As their mother no doubt tired of her husband's drinking, the kids rallied to their mother's side, which left Ball alone to fuss over this Dad.

But back to his more immediate challenge: the prospect that Ball, not even 20, will become a father himself in a crowded slum home which already provides shelter to 10 people, including two toddlers.

'I will still be here...I won't abandon you,' I told him.

As a joke, we have started coining names for the baby, all of them with a booze theme. ' I want a girl, as boys are too much trouble,' he said. We think he or she might arrive in May next year.

When I called last night, about 10 hours after the pregnancy discovery, Ball had yet to tell Mum.

'Jay called to say she was not coming home tonight...and yet we need to talk,' he said.

'Don't worry. I'm sure she'll be back soon, and still feels okay. We can talk again tomorrow,' I said.