Page 58 of Textbook Romance

‘Yes, I was presumptuous and brought takeaway. How are we feeling for chicken, lads?’

‘Are there chips?’

‘Are there chips? Of course.’ The children and my brother cheer, arms in the air. I am a hero.

Dom comes up to me, grabbing the bag. ‘Absolute legend. Literally nothing in these cupboards. Otherwise, we’d be having toast. What’s up with you – you look knackered?’ he tells me.

‘Charming. I was out last night,’ I tell him, following him into the kitchen.

‘Oh, the joys of a night out. I hope you didn’t come here to brag about the size of your hangover,’ he moans. ‘Lads, clear the living room table and get Ninja Warrior on.’ The boys do as they’re told.

I won’t lie, Dom doesn’t keep a very tidy house. There are solo shoes that lie around the place, stacks of letters from school that sit on the kitchen counter, football kit that hangs off every available radiator space. But I’ve also never met someone so invested in loving his boys. I’ll always remember his words to me: now Amy’s gone, I have to try and love them twice as much. I tried to help him with that, and I don’t think the boys want for anything in that respect. He doesn’t sweat the small stuff, he’s learnt to prioritise his time by giving what he can to those lads and they always seem especially buoyant about life. So I don’t judge. I let him get on with it and prop him up every so often when he needs it.

‘I’m just being a decent and loving brother,’ I tell him.

‘Do you want money?’

‘No.’

‘Are you moving back in?’

I moved out several years ago when the boys started school and I convinced myself that Dom could survive without me.

‘Also, no.’

He looks at my face. ‘Jesus Christ. You’re coming to me for life advice.’

I don’t answer.

‘Little Jack has life dilemmas. Is it work? Did you hit a child? Do you need legal counsel?’

‘No.’

He gets out a selection of mismatched plates, grabs the ketchup from the fridge and starts piling up the chicken wings and chips. ‘Then the only thing left is either your health or your love life…’

‘The latter…’

I see his face rise to a broad grin. ‘Then if this is you coming here looking knackered because you’ve had sex all night, you can leave.’

I laugh, stealing a couple of chips. ‘You can talk! Didn’t you say last night that you needed help because your new school mum squeeze is into weird things?’

He looks through the hallway to ensure the boys are out of earshot and closes the door to the kitchen slightly.

‘God, yes. Her name’s Kim. She’s into sexting. Because obviously as parents, none of us have time to meet up and shag in real life. She wants pictures and all. I have no idea what I’m doing.’

He says it so matter-of-factly, I can’t help but snigger. ‘Well, I love you, man, but I draw the line at taking pictures of your cock for you.’

Dom laughs, snorting a little, and it makes me smile. After everything he’s been through, it’s always been nice to hear that sound, to level him out with a bit of joy. These days he’s some life-beaten dad who forgets to cut his hair, who wears the same five T-shirts because they still fit and who I suspect just gets a lot of joy from a nap on the sofa and an uninterrupted shower. The man is owed.

‘I can give you some tips.’

‘I think she wants more than the tip,’ Dom jokes and we both laugh because deep down, our sense of humour never really developed past our teens.

‘Always erect, no one wants a picture of a flaccid penis. Try lying down, instead of standing up. It’s all in the angles and the lighting.’ He nods, taking it all in. ‘Also, never include your face in the pictures. Protect your penis and your identity.’

‘That’s a good slogan,’ he chuckles. I open a drawer to look for serving utensils and pull out some shin pads and what looks like part of the vacuum cleaner. Dom looks upon it all and turns his palms up to the air. ‘In my head, it’s a reliable filing system.’

I turn to look at the kitchen fridge, at old pictures drawn by the lads. Back in the early days, people newly acquainted to our family assumed Dom and I to be gay as we popped up in all the boys’ drawings, all holding hands. Then they’d find out the truth and Dom and I always got the sighs, the glassy eyes. So you’re raising those boys together? Like some 80s sitcom? And we would nod. I’ll be frank, I always thought it would get us both laid more but it never did.

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