Page 12 of Tough Love

“Thank you.” I hold his gaze, fighting the familiar urge to walk into his embrace, to seek comfort and solace from him.

He’s not mine anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. Those privileges were revoked the day I realised he wasn’t coming home.

“I’ll get dinner started and you go check up on Briar. Make sure he’s okay first, and then ring your parents.” He turns away, dismissing me with his authoritarian tone and effectively ending our conversation.

Phone clutched in my fist, I take a measured step sideways, and hesitate. “Thank you for all of this … helping. It’s really appreciated.”

“I wouldn’t do it for just anyone, Amelia.”

One look at his face confirms he feels as equally out of place as I do, so I turn and hotfoot it towards the stairs before the situation becomes any more uncomfortable.

The wall leading to the first floor is covered with pictures: Kath and Briar, what I assume to be Briar as a baby, Kath and my parents, and random nature shots thrown in the mix. My gaze roves each one as I slowly climb up to the next level, and two things hit me. One, I forgot to check what picture Kath had of me on the fridge when I was downstairs. Two, nowhere in any of these pictures have I found a single one containing Briar’s father.Interesting.

I reach the landing, and on the second turn find Briar’s door. He sits amidst a plethora of Marvel action toys, setting up some scenario between Hulk and Captain America. Certain he’ll be content for the time being, I head back to the first door I checked and enter Kath’s room.

I had all intentions of sitting on the end of her bed and calling Mum, but now that I’m inside Kath’s space, looking at the things that make up who she is, a deep sense of trespass overwhelms me.

I don’t belong here. She wouldn’t have invited me when she was conscious, so who the hell am I to act like I’m at home, here, inherroom?

Shaking the slimy feeling off, I bring my phone out and tap through to Mum’s number. It rings out. I disconnect, assuming they’re still in the air, and open the message window instead.

Kath is stable for now. I have Briar at her house.

Short and to the point. Satisfied with my half-arsed effort, I pocket the phone and head back to Briar’s room. He’s laid out on his stomach, still playing with the same toys.

“Who’s making dinner?” he asks as I settle on the floor with him.

“The police officer is.”

His focus returns to the toys. What I’d give to be six again and not find things like a cop in your kitchen, and an aunt you’ve never met caring for you, strange or unsettling.

“Which one’s your favourite?” I’ve seen a few of the franchise movies; I’m reasonably confident I can wing it.

“Captain America.”

“Cool.”

He looks up at me, cocking his head to the side. “What about you?”

“I think Iron Man is pretty awesome.” Mostly because I have a thing for Robert Downey Jr., but hey, it’s still a legitimate answer.

He nods. “Are you married?”

I shake my head, smiling at the genuinely curious furrow to his brow.

“Mum said you don’t have any children.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You get scared at night on your own?”

Odd question.“Sometimes. If there’s a really loud noise, or I have a bad dream.” I tuck my legs in tighter to myself, gripping my ankles with both hands.

“I have bad dreams,” Briar states, almost as though he’s proud to have made it through the ordeal. “But Mum comes and cuddles me until I go back to sleep.”

“That sounds nice.” It also leaves a stabby feeling in my chest I can’t quite place as empathy or jealousy.

I’ve never thought about having kids; it’s never been an option afforded to me. But I guess a family of my own is something that deep down I hope to have one day. I just can’t say when or how it would ever happen. And realising that makes me a little sad.Damn it, kid.One conversation and I’m contemplating life’s course.

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