Page 143 of Every Silent Lie
“He would have told you. Not last night, but he was totally prepared for it, until I screwed it up.”
“It’s okay. I could have handled it better.”
“And now you’re here,” she muses, watching me over the rim of her cup as she takes a sip.
“Now I’m here,” I murmur.
“And call me presumptuous, but I’m assuming that means?—”
“It means I love your brother.”
She inhales, her hand moving to her mouth. “That makes me so happy. That he’ll have someone other than us and Albi.” Naturally, my thoughts immediately go to his wife. But I won’t bring her up. Not now.
“It makes me happy too.”
“Good.” April stands. “I should go check on the boys.”
I smile as she leaves and gaze around the kitchen, slowly getting up and going to a cupboard. I open it. Plates and bowls. The next is loaded with mugs. And the next is full of every plastic kitchenware item a child could ever need. I close the door and follow my feet to the right, finding myself in the laundry room. Little trousers hang on a drying rack next to Dec’s white shirts. Tiny socks next to Dec’s man socks. A picture on the doors of a huge American fridge freezer catches my eye, and I wander over, removing the Mickey Mouse magnet and taking the picture off. It’s all I can do not to break down again, faced with a heart-stopping, beautiful picture of Dec and Albi. Dec’s sitting on the sand in blue shorts, shades on, Albi standing between his thighs in a matching pair, goggles on. Both of them belly laughing, faces turned up to the sun. Happiness pours out of the image.
So why am I sniffing back tears?
I put the picture back and slip the magnet across, finding a calendar next to the picture. At first, I’m not sure what I’m looking at, but as I move in closer, I see there’s a line written for each day in December. I scan the boxes, smiling as I read the words—all memories noted by Dec.
December 3RD
I coped with your dirty nappies, dog shit on your shoes, but when you’re throwing up, fella, I’m throwing up with you.
I laugh under my breath, moving to
December 8TH
You made me a spaceship out of loo rolls today. It’s bloody beautiful.
My hand on my heart, I read every memory noted on each square of December until yesterday. It’s blank. Dec hasn’t written anything there yet, and I wonder what he’ll write when he does. Because he spent the day with me. Dec only had maybe an hour with Albi in between our day wandering and me turning up to go out for dinner. My heart aches more, knowing I’ve stolen that time. Albi would have been at school, but still. Dec didn’t take him because he woke up with me.
Backing out of the room, I resist the overwhelming urge to read every moment Dec’s noted and see every picture they have capturing moments of their lives together. But there are no pictures on the walls in the kitchen, the snug, or the hallway. It feels like such a waste of wall space, not to be filled with photographs of these two beautiful humans.
Taking a breath, I venture out of the kitchen and follow the sound of Dec’s pacifying voice to the playroom. When I get to the doorway, I find April perched on a mini chair and Dec lying on his front outside a teepee. The zip is fastened, and Albi’s hiding inside. April smiles at me. It’s easy to return it.
“The prawn is the coolest part to play, fella,” Dec says softly. “And once your performance is done, you get to play games for the rest of the day. No schoolwork.”
“I don’t want to be a prawn.” His little voice is adamant. I can’t see him hidden away in his teepee, but I can see him in my mind’s eye. His tiny arms are crossed tightly over his chest and his bottom lip is on the carpet. “Uncle Blaine said prawns are hoovers of the sea,” he says, making Dec look back at April with raised brows. She shrugs. “They have poop inside them!” he cries. “I don’t have poop inside me, Daddy. I poop it in the toilet and the flushy takes it away.”
I press my lips together as Dec drops his forehead to the carpet, rubbing from side to side to the point I begin worrying he’ll have carpet burns when he comes up. “Okay, fella, Daddy doesn’t know what else to say.” He heaves himself up and faces us, shaking his head when he finds me, his palm splattering his face and dragging down his stubble.
“He’s a prawn?” I mouth to him, my face surely spelling out my confusion. We’re talking about a nativity play, right?
“He’s lucky,” Dec whispers. “Little Jack Greenshaw is a hairy frogfish.”
I recoil. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“I need a coffee.” Dec sighs, looking at April. “What am I gonna do? Coax him into the car and pretend we’re not going to school?”
“Definitely not,” I say without thinking on a laugh. They both look at me, and I shrink. “Not unless you never want him to trust you again,” I add quietly. Reluctantly. Something catches my eye behind Dec, and I crane my head, spotting a cute little face surrounded by pink velvet with two brown antennae bobbing around on top peeking out of the teepee. Albi spots me and quickly disappears back inside.
“I’d better call the school,” Dec says, dropping a kiss on my cheek as he pulls his phone out and carries on to the kitchen.
April rises from the tiny chair looking beaten and shakes her head as she passes me. “Thanks, Blaine,” she whispers, rolling her eyes.
