Page 90 of Unspoken Words
Connor
“Thank fuck for that,” Imuttered, knees buckling as I slumped to the couch and cradled my head in my hands. No matter what it took: tricks, games, bribery … a blatant disregard for her wishes, I would convince her to collaborate with me. Ellie was the final and perfect part of my debut album.
“Daddy said bad word.”
Peeking through my fingers, I glanced over at Max sitting on his play mat, his little hands buried in a tub of Matchbox cars. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Yes. Naughty Daddy.” His pointer finger shot out like a spear of judgement. “You go to the corner.”
I tried not to smile as I pushed up from the couch, black leather crying out under the weight of my six foot four frame, before I trudged across the living room to the naughty corner.
“Free minutes,” Max said, holding up three fingers.
“Okay. You gonna count?”
“Yep.”
Max counted to three—over and over—while I faced the wall and smiled. Photos of years gone by hung on hooks in front of me; my favourite, a black and white shot of Max in hospital the day he was born, swaddled in a blanket, my finger lightly grazing his tiny button nose. Mum and Dad were laughing in another photo with Max suspended in the air, his toddler face one of pure delight as Dad tossed him repeatedly. And then there was the shot of Lilah, Max, and I, professionally posed on a picnic rug, a picture perfect portrait of a young, happy family—a portrait of a lie.
Scanning the colourful, autumn picture, I’d known then like I know now that we’d never be happy. A family, yes, but more so two people who’d come together because we loved our son more than we loved ourselves or anyone else. We’d put Max first because, to us, he was more important: his life … his start in the world. We’d owed it to him to be there, together, so we were, but not really.
But after trying to make our relationship work for the sake of Max, we both decided we were fighting a battle we would never win, not for us and certainly not for the little boy who deserved the very best in life. And that didn’t include a mummy and daddy who yelled more than they spoke, who slammed doors instead of holding hands, and who only spent time together as a smokescreen for anyone who cared to take notice, which was exactly what that picture encapsulated. It was a mum and dad who loved their son but who were pretending to love each other when they didn’t and never would. Oddly enough, it was still one of my favourites, perhaps because I wanted to believe the lie that had cost me everything.
But I wouldn’t change having Max for anything. I loved him as much as a father could love his child, and then some. His tiny hand in mine. Mashed pumpkin on the floor. Getting up every day at dawn. I loved every second and counted down the days until it was my turn to pick him up from kinder to do it all over again. Max was my life, and even though I’d lost Ellie to have him, he’d been the perfect result of a mistake I was destined to make.
“Onnnnnnne. Twooooooooo. Free,” he chanted, for possibly the tenth time.
“Can I leave now?” I asked, twisting to look at him.
He shook his head and smashed two cars together. “No.”
“But you counted to three.”
“Five minutes.”
“FIVE!”
My midnight-haired little devil giggled and nodded his head.
“You can’t change it to five, you rascal,” I said, launching after him and growling like a scary monster.
He screamed, jumped to his feet, and ran behind the couch. “You can’t catch me. You can’t catch me.”
“Oh yeah?”
“You can’t catch me.”
Little did my Maxey know that I wouldalwayscatch him—when he ran, when he hid, when he teased, and when he fell. It was my job to be there no matter what. That’s what dads were for.
Springing over the arm of the couch, I secured him in my hands and lifted him above my head, careful not to donk his head against the ceiling. “Gotcha.”
“Do the plane, Dad. Do the plane,” he pleaded, his uncontrollable giggles the sweetest music to my ears.
“Okay.” I cleared my voice and prepared him for takeoff. “This is your captain speaking. We are about to take off and fly to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Then we will fly to bed, our final destination. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Set?”
