Page 50 of Open Water

They have made a deal. Max doesn’t go upstairs into Tom’s space. Tom doesn’t set foot past the threshold into Max’s room unless invited. In writing. Three copies signed in advance.

“It was Auntie Magni’s birthday yesterday,” Max says, shoving half a banana into his face. Chewing.

Tom can’t look. Table manners is something they still haven’t quite mastered. He shouldn’t complain though, having eaten a very messy microwave burger for breakfast earlier, and he has not even wiped his hands. There’s evidence on the bathrobe he is still wearing.Whatever.

Nightshifts do that to a person. Unexplainable food cravings after a few hours of sleep, and it’s not like anyone will see him like this. Messy and dirty and slurping his now lukewarm coffee out of the mug next to his keyboard.

“Huh?” Tom replies. Head back in the laptop.

“You should send her something. Flowers. She’s your Auntie.”

“Yeah.” He should. “What did you say again?”

“DAD!”

“Yes?” He’s a prat. His son is speaking. A rare occurrence of the teenaged son breed.

“It was Auntie Magni’s birthday. Send. Her. Flowers. Or. Some. Shit.”

Oh, yes. It was.Damn.He’s a shit relative too.

“Did you text her?” He bets Max actually did.

“Yup. Did the Facebook thing too. Like other normal people.”

“Are you on Facebook now?” Tom tries to be interested. Not that he even knows his own password.

“No, Dad. I use yours, remember? Have you heard from Lukas?”

The look on Tom’s face should tell him all. He’s barely gotten dressed this week let alone gotten anything remotely useful done.

His phone has been silent, so has the house. Both of them tumbling around in their own space quietly hurting.

“Matteo?” Tom tries, and Max bumbles down on the chair next to him, picking up Tom’s cup and grimacing wildly as the tepid liquid hits his tongue.

“Working. He’s coming here after, if that’s okay with you.” Max huffs. “This coffee is rank.”

“Feel free to brew coffee for both of us,” Tom snarls. Then, softens his voice. “Matteo should stay here. I hate the idea of him living at that place.”

“He’s got nowhere else to go. No family.” Max is making a mess. Seriously. The kid knows every trick in the book for lazy teenagers who can’t do a simple task. Like open a packet of coffee and measure out a scoop or two of grounds into a brewing basket. Something he must have done a million times yet still manages to cock up.

It’s like a well-practiced routine. Tom gets up and takes over. Huffs and shoves and pretends to be annoyed as he slams the lid down on the coffeemaker and presses ‘brew’.

“Of course, he has family. He has us, hasn’t he? I mean, he’s your boyfriend? Right?”

The smile on Max’s face tells a million truths. Like yeah. And okay. Yup.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Tom rummages in his rucksack on the table and fishes out a bag. Tell-tale patterns of the hospital pharmacy printed all over it, that Max accepts with a sceptical look.

“Meds?” he questions then looks inside the bag and rolls his eyes.

“Supplies,” Tom says. Looking stern. Because he’s not having this. They have had the birds and the bees talk. Several times. He knows Max knows. He’s just making sure.

“How many condoms will we need? Dad? Seriously? There must be hundreds in here?”

“You are seventeen, Max, you will go through them in no time.”

Yeah, that was clever. Now Max’s face is kind of purple and the bottle of lube he is holding up might have been a little bit of an overkill. It’s not subtle. But Tor at the Tegelbacken Pharmacy kind of knows his shit, and said he never buys anything else. Also, the 1-litre bottle with a one-handed pump dispenser is apparently very practical. And the condoms are cheaper in bulk.

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