Page 22 of Beautiful Losers

‘What was that about?’ asks Leonard.

‘I can’t be certain, but Ithinkhe may have found out that Tom Hanks isn’t his grandfather,’ I say.

‘Why would he think Tom Hanks is his grandfather?’ says Jack, opening a cupboard and reaching for a glass. The presumptuousness of the gesture, his familiarity with the space, irks me further.

‘Because I told him he was, okay?’ I pull a chair out and flop into it, dropping my head on the table and banging it a few times. When I look up, Leonard, Myriam and Jack are staring down at me with a collective tilt of the head.

‘Look, I didn’t mean to,’ I say. ‘It wasn’t like I planned on lying to him. It was about a year after Cillian left. Ari kept asking me about his dad and then he’d ask me about his grandparents. And I was so tired, you know? From looking after Ari on my own, from constantly disappointing him when I told him Daddy wasn’t coming back. He came downstairs after I’d put him to bed one night and I was watchingCast Awayand crying, and he asked me why I was sad, and I just blurted it out. I told him that the man on the beach was his grandad.’

I can hear a car revving in the distance. A cricket chirping. Leonard scratching behind his ear. Myriam shrugs and returns to loading the dishwasher.

‘You told him Tom Hanks was his grandfatherafter watchingCast Away?’ says Jack incredulously. ‘That was his worst film. It’s nothing but a feature-length ad for FedEx.’

‘That’s what I’ve always said, my man,’ Leonard chips in. ‘It could have been so much more – a damning indictment of capitalism, but nope, it’s all those FedEx packages that keep Hanks alive. It was sad about his little basketball, though. What was its name?’

‘Wilson,’ I say. ‘It was a volleyball.’

‘Ha! Wilson sporting goods? Further product placement!’ scoffs Leonard. ‘Still, when Wilson drifts out to sea – you’d have to have a heart of stone not to be moved by that. One man and his ball, and all that. Hanks had better chemistry with Hooch, though.’

‘Hooch?’ says Jack.

‘Turner and Hooch. Hanks plays a cop. I can’t remember who plays Hooch. I think it was several dogs. They’re pretty strict in Hollywood when it comes to animal actor labour laws. Anyway, they made a great team. We’d a dog like Hooch when I was growing up. Had to get him put down after he took a chunk out of Mr Lebowitz’s ass. Poor guy had to get an implant on his left butt cheek.’

Jack stares at Leonard for several seconds, then turns his attention back to me.

‘It’s not exactly a grandfatherly role he’s playing, is it? Didn’t Hanks lose half his body weight for that film? And he spends most of the time running around in a loincloth.’

‘Tom Hanks is seriously resourceful in that movie. Who wouldn’t want a grandfather who can catch a fish with his bare hands? Couldyousurvive on a desert island for four years? No assistants, no agent catering to your every whim?’

‘Actually, I was in the Scouts. Got the Survival Skills Activity Badge,’ says Jack, all delighted with himself.

‘Look, I’d had a tough day and it just slipped out.’ I snap. ‘I’m not proud of myself, okay?’

‘I did wonder why there was a framed photo of Tom Hanks beside Ari’s bed,’ says Myriam, putting a crystal glass in the dishwasher.

‘Myriam, crystal needs to be hand-washed,’ I say. ‘Ari insisted on a photo.’

‘Where did you get it from?’ asks Jack.

‘It was a promo poster forThe Terminal. I tore it out ofMarie Claire.’

‘You have appalling taste in Tom Hanks movies, kid,’ says Leonard, shaking his head.

~

I knock on Ari’s door. Huffily, he asks me to give him some privacy. I take a modicum of comfort in the knowledge that the chat we had on personal boundaries is beginning to sink in. Myriam offers to put him to bed and I seize the opportunity to go for a walk and clear my head. How could I have messed up like this? I haven’t got many things right in my life, but with Ari, our relationship, I’ve always taken pride in that. In the fact that he knows he can ask me anything and I’ll be real with him.

See, other parents, they tell their kids that the world is all unicorns and rainbows, that they can do anything they put their mind to. I’ve explained to Ari that dreams have limitations. Like, if you don’t have an aptitude for science, you’re unlikely to cut it as an astrophysicist. And sure half ofall jobs will be replaced by AI by 2030 anyway, so really, it’s just erroneous to tell children that the world is theirs for the taking.

It’s about managing expectations. One person can’t change the world for the better. Christ, eight billion of us can’t seem to figure it out. I don’t want to tell Ari that everything will be okay and the people you love will always be there, because I’m not sure it will and I’m damn sure they won’t.

Then Ari came downstairs that night in his dinosaur pyjamas, upset after a bad dream and missing his dad, and I wanted him to have what other kids have – the illusion of security. I wanted him to have the lie. And so I told him that his grandad survived four years on a desert island and was an international ping pong player who ran the length of America and navigated his crew back from a failed lunar mission and became big for a while. And he cuddled into me and fell asleep with a huge smile on his face.

~

I make my way along the path leading to the village, turning right at Utopie and walking halfway up the hill until I reach the Jardin des Paradis, beneath the ramparts of the old town. It’s busier than I thought it would be, couples and groups of friends watching the sun set amid the cacti and bougainvillea. Cicadas and world music playing on a tinny speaker compete to be heard. I order a beer at the kiosk from a woman with a nose ring, and scan for somewhere to sit. Jack is at a table in the corner, typing intently on his laptop. I contemplate making a run for it when he looks up, catching my eye.

Great.

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