He shrugs. “I dunno. It’s always more fun when he’s away because he only likes it when I sit and be quiet. He doesn’t like doing cool things I want like bowling or swimming. It’s only stuff he wants to do and most the time that’s just playing on his computer.”
“I’m sorry you feel this way, honey. I didn’t realise.”
His lips twist from side to side as he plays with the gold band that still adorns my finger. I guess I can take that off now. “I still want to see him sometimes. But I’m OK if he doesn’t live with us anymore.” That strikes me as a huge admission from a little boy, and I wonder how long he’s been harbouring that level of resentment towards his dad.
With my mouth tight, I look at him for a long moment; his light brown hair, shiny from his bath; his golden skin, tan from the sun. The gaps either side of his bottom teeth remind me he’s still so young, but the words out of his mouth, and those big blue, wise eyes, tell me that perhaps I have been underestimating him. He’s more grown-up than I want him to be. He sees the shittiness in this world and takes it in his stride. And that makes me sad. He’s only eight. He shouldn’t feel the weight of these things.
“What makes you so sure he’s not coming back?”
“I can just tell.”
I run my fingers through his soft hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “How can you tell, buddy?”
“Because your eyes are sad. You keep smiling and telling us everything is good. But your eyes are really, really sad.”
“I see.” I take a big, sobering breath, struggling not to let my sad eyes leak sad tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” My words come out as a whisper, coated in emotion.
He shrugs. “It’s OK. Grown-ups never tell kids things. We’re used to figuring it out for ourselves.”
I laugh a little at that. “Is that right?”
“Yeah. Like how I had to figure out that the tooth fairy is really you.”
My head pulls back of its own accord. “You don’t believe in magic anymore?” If he doesn’t, I think I’m going to cry.
“I do. The Easter bunny and Santa Claus are the real deal, but the tooth fairy is a big ole fake.”
A smile plays on my lips. Thank God. “What makes you so sure the tooth fairy isn’t real?”
“I woke up when you put the coin under my pillow the last time.”
“I see. What makes you so sure I wasn’t just checking to see how much you got?”
“Because you have more money than me. What would you want with two dollars when you have money in the bank?” Not any more…
Running the backs of my fingers along his cheeks, I bop him on the nose with my index finger. “You’re far too smart for me.”
“I know,” he says, so sure of himself. He rubs his eyes, his fists so big yet still so small. I’m revisited by flashbacks of him as a baby, rubbing at his eyes and griping until I swaddled him tight and sung him a lullaby. Those days went by too fast.
“I should probably let you get some sleep, hey?”
“Is Abby coming to bed soon?” he asks, mouth opening wide with a yawn he can’t stop.
“Maybe in an hour or two.”
“She still thinks Dad is coming back and we’re going home,” he informs me.
“I know,” I whisper. “She just wants everything to go back to normal, I think.”
“Normal is boring.” He sounds just like Nana. “I like it better here, anyway. There’s always stuff to do. Will we go to school here now too?”
No sense in hiding that truth anymore. “Yes. With your father gone, we can’t keep the house.” I’m keeping the entirety of our financial ruin to myself. As smart as Archer is, I don’t think it’s right to involve him in my money woes.
“Because you don’t have a job?”
“Yeah. But I’ll find one and then we’ll start fresh on our own again.”
“I want to stay here with Nana.”
“I think we’ll be here for a while,” I whisper, pulling his blanket a little higher up his chest.
“That’s good. I’m excited about the bunk bed.”
“Maybe Abby will like it too.” As I take a deep breath, I can feel how full my heart has become from talking to him. He’s such a special boy, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep him happy and carefree too. No light squashing needed.
“Yeah. But she won’t tell you that. She’s too grumpy.”
With a chuckle, I tickle him. “No picking on your sister.”
He giggles and wriggles, sighing when I stop my assault. “What is she doing, anyway?”
“She’s talking to her friends.” Abby is on the deck in a group video chat with her friends back home, keeping her voice low so none of us can hear the conversation. But it doesn’t take a genius to know she’s complaining about me for bringing her back here. Not only does she think I’m keeping her from her father, she’s also suffering from a serious case of FOMO (fear of missing out). Her friends are hanging out and planning sleepovers and whatever else teen girls like to do, and she’s not there and a part of it all.
“Is she talking to her new friends or her old friends?”
“She has new friends?”
He nods. “She was windsurfing with some kids today. Me and Nana saw her with a boy. She was smiling lots.”
“A boy?” Abby with a boy? She’s always been so adamant that she was too busy with school for boys.
“There were girls there too. But a boy was showing her how to use the board with the sail on it. She kept falling off, but she was laughing, so Nana said we shouldn’t bother her.”
“That was a nice thing to do. Did Nana say if she knows the boy Abby was windsurfing with?” Windsurfing. Abby has never shown any interest in board sports before, either. I feel so out of touch with my kids right now. I always thought I knew them, that I could pre-empt their wants and needs, be the kind of mum who was involved. Seems I’ve become anything but. My life feels like a total sham now. I don’t know anything or anyone. I don’t even think I know myself.
“Mummy?” For all of his grown-up words, he can’t let go of calling me Mummy.
“Yeah, hon?”
“Does Abby know we’re changing schools?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d try and talk to her when she’s in a better mood.”
He chuckles as he rolls over, pulling his blanket up to his neck. “That might be never.”
“She’ll come around eventually.”
“I hope so for your sake,” he says, closing his eyes. “Night, Mummy.”
“Sweet dreams, Archer.”
Leaning down to press a kiss to his plump cheek, I flick off the lamp, leaving him with only the soft glow of his dinosaur nightlight to keep him company. Within seconds his breathing evens out, and I pause in the doorway, completely in awe over this little kid who seems to be raising himself. Thank God, because I’m obviously doing a terrible job on my own.
NINETEEN
LEO
“Where have you been all day?” I ask as Niall stomps up onto the deck and heads straight inside to the kitchen, tracking sand inside with each step.
I open my mouth to comment, but press my lips back together instead, watching as he pulls open the fridge and takes out a Pepsi Max, popping the ring, and gulping down a long thirsty drink. Then he pulls out the ham, mayonnaise and mustard and starts making himself a sandwich.
“Your dinner is in the microwave. That fried chicken you like.”
“This is fine,” he says, shoving his sandwich into his mouth then heading for his room without another word. I look at the mess he’s left on the kitchen counter and grit my teeth, placing my hands against the marble benchtop and doing my best not to react. He’s doing this on purpose, pissed because I insisted he be here until school goes back next month.
“You’ll have to talk to me eventually,” I call out, my statement being met with the slamming of his door. Excellent.
I mutter under my breath as I tidy up his mess and dump his u
neaten dinner in the bin. I paid a small ransom to Tash so she’d back down and let Niall stay here for the summer school holidays. He was fine when he thought it was just between Christmas and New Year’s, but when he realised it was all of January too, he decided I was once again public enemy number one. You’d think I was the devil with the way he’s been glaring at me. My instinct is to yell and lay down the law, but I know that’s not going to get me anywhere because Tash has had years to poison his mind. If I’d been a deadbeat rugby-playing manwhore with a bunch of illegitimate kids all over the place, I would understand it. But when we were married, I always spent as much time as I could with Niall, especially in the off-season, which was a pretty large chunk of the year. I know he was only little, but doesn’t he remember something of those times? There’s photo evidence and everything. I’m bitter things are where they are, but manipulation is something Tash does well, so the best thing I can do is be patient and show him I care. That I’m not the bastard his mother paints me as. But it’s hard feeling so out of control where your own flesh and blood is concerned.
Time is ticking. I have less than a month to get through to him. He’s seventeen now, this time next year, he’ll be an adult, there’ll be no court orders enforcing my right to see him. Once he turns eighteen I’ll have no hope and Tash will have won. Another entitled arsehole will be released into the world, and I’ll be disowned by my own son. She’d love that. Although one thing I’m looking forward to is getting my balls back. No more child support means no more extortionate bribes to enforce my right to see my son. No way. Soon, I’ll be done forking out money to help fund her lavish lifestyle. She can find some other schmuck to take advantage of instead. Once he’s eighteen, if Niall needs financial help from me while he still studies, he’ll have to speak to me in full sentences and ask himself. I’m not dealing with Tash anymore.
Sweeping the sand out onto the wooden deck, I push it through the small slots between the planks then hose it all away, watering my garden while I’m at it. It’s one thing you get used to living alone—this whole tidying up thing. I like order, and my mother always taught me to clean up after myself, so I don’t see it as a big deal. My son, on the other hand, probably hasn’t picked up a broom in his life. Neither has his mother, really. She’s always had ‘people’ to do those things for her.
And do I want Niall to be a self-centred arsehole for the rest of his life? No. And that fucks with me because I want him to be respectable—respected—so he’s a decent human being with goals and aspirations. He’s got it in him. I see it in those rare moments when he forgets to have a chip on his shoulder, like when he carried bags of groceries home for Esme last week. I spotted them walking along the footpath together talking like he actually has a good head on his shoulders. I just wish he used it more often. I wish Tash would quit letting him do whatever the hell he wants. He needs boundaries in his life.
Wiping my hand over my face, I let out a groan, pushing away my shitty thoughts. There’s no point in being sour. My ex-wife is my ex-wife and there’s nothing I can do to change the way she is. Standing here lamenting it will only drive me crazy, like beating my head against a brick wall.
As I set my broom down, the distinct smell of weed wafts my way and I know that Esme is out on her deck, puffing away the way she does, not giving a shit about the legalities of what she’s doing. I’m fairly sure the local cops turn a blind eye to an old woman sparking up, anyway. She isn’t hurting anyone.
“Smells good, Esme,” I say, leaning on my railing and poking my head past the privacy screen. I’m surprised when I find myself looking at a startled Darcy. “Don’t run away.” I give her a friendly smile. “I’m not going to dob you in to anyone.”
She’s frantically waving smoke away as it pours out of her mouth and nose, coughing a little. “My back is hurting and Nana doesn’t keep painkillers in the house.”
“She likes to be all natural, your nan.”
Darcy smiles and looks at the joint in her hand. “She does.” The weed must be mellowing her, because this is the longest I’ve been able to look at her without her turning tail and running in the opposite direction. It’s a bit of a relief, because I’ve really missed her and our chats. And I’m trying to be a gentleman and not focus on my desire to get her in my bed again, but that would make me a liar. I fucking want her. I want to watch her writhe and moan again. I can’t stop thinking about it.
“Got a hit in that thing for me?” I gesture to the joint and she smiles, high as a kite before getting up and approaching me.
“It’s all yours,” she says. “I’m not so used to this stuff anymore.” She gestures at her head, her fingers doing a little bit of spinning action. God, she’s adorable.
I hold the joint between my lips and flick the lighter, pulling the hot smoke into my lungs. “I really need to give this shit up,” I say. “But a puff here and there is good for the soul. So, Esme says, anyway.”
“That’s what she said to me too.” She giggles and leans forward on the railing, the wind pushing back her light hair as she breathes in deep. Fuck, she’s beautiful. It almost hurts to look at her and want her this much. “The air smells even better when you’re high.”
I laugh. “Everything is better when you’re high.”
A slow giggle bursts from her lips, and I notice how pretty her smile is. I’m so used to seeing her serious or stressed that it’s nice seeing this relaxed side of her. Even though it took a magical leaf to make that happen.
“You’re right. And I’m so happy right now. I can’t even feel my back—or my toes—and I’m pretty sure I don’t have a single problem anymore.”
I take another inhale and offer the joint back to her. “This must be pretty powerful stuff.”
She waves it away. “I’m just a lightweight, I think.” Leaning with one arm along the railing and the other holding up her head, she grins at me while she studies my face. “Is your knee hurting any more?”
I glance down to where it’s strapped up, wrapped in a support brace that I’ve had to wear on and off depending on how hard I push myself fitness-wise.
“Not really.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you,” she says, leaning forward a little, her fingers raking through her hair.
“It’s OK.”
“No. It’s not. I’ve just… I’ve had so much going on in my head and my life is a huge mess. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with myself, let alone with my kids. I don’t think I can add you into the mix too.” She pinches her brow together.
“I get it, Darce. I really do. You’re forgetting I’ve been through a shitty divorce. I’m not here to pressure you or add any stress. I’m happy to be your friend, or even the guy you smoke a joint with on occasion.” She laughs at that. “It doesn’t have to be more than it is, okay?”
“And what about”—she keeps a grip on the railing and she leans back touch, hesitating a little before continuing—“what happened before I left?”
I take a deep breath and squint a little. “I’m not gonna lie. That part was a lot of fun and I wouldn’t say no to a repeat performance, but I also understand it’s maybe a little too soon for you.”
“You wouldn’t be pissed if I just wanted to go back to being friends?”
“That would make me a really shitty person if I was, wouldn’t it?”
She lowers her head a little, eyes locked on mine in a discerning stare. “That’s not answering my question, Leo.” She’s swaying a little, and it’s hard to take her seriously. She really is a lightweight. Her pupils are huge. She’s smashed.
“No, Darcy. I wouldn’t be pissed at all. We both kind of…lost control that day.”
“Oh God.” She covers her face with her hands and groans. “Don’t remind me. I could just die of embarrassment every time I think about what I did.”
“Embarrassment?” I’ve had a lot of comments about my prowess in the bedroom, but embarrassing has never been one of them. Call me proud, but they’v
e been mostly positive comments. I like to think I know what I’m doing.
“The whole”—she grabs her boobs and lifts them up, while she rolls her eyes—“thing.”
I can’t help but let my eyes drift down. “I thought that part was hot.”
She meets my eyes and her cheeks go bright red. “No, it wasn’t. It was over the top and that is so not how I normally behave in the bedroom.” Pity. “I guess I lost control like I was having a breakdown or something and you got a front-row seat.” She’s rolling her eyes again.
“Since we’re being candid, if it makes you feel any better, that moment has featured pretty heavily in my fantasies of late.”
“It has?” She seems pretty shocked by that revelation.
I bounce a shoulder. “Like I said, it was hot. You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about from my point of view. Sometimes it’s good to be out of control. It lets you live in the moment. Besides the timing of things, I wouldn’t change anything about what we did that day.”
“It came out of the blue, didn't it?”
“It did and it didn’t. I was pretty into you from the get-go.”
She laughs. “In those few moments before Archer took you out?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I saw you out here a few nights before. I’d gone for a walk because I couldn’t sleep, and when I came back you were sitting out here alone, staring out at the sea, so lost in thought you didn’t even notice me walk right past.”
“That was probably the day Kevin left. I think I was shell-shocked.”
“Well, I thought you were beautiful.”
Her fingers touch her lips, hiding her smile. “Well, I think you’re beautiful too,” she says after a moment. “I’m surprised you don’t have all the women around here tackling you when you run along the beach. It’s quite a sight, you with your shirt off and all.”
Now I’m smiling. She thinks I’m beautiful too. I lean in a little closer. “I don’t want any other women tackling me, Darcy. I want you. I won’t pretend I don’t. But I understand that you need time before you can handle having a new man in your life. Just give the word, OK? Until then, we can keep this as friends. Does that work for you?”
Love is a Beach: a romantic comedy Page 12
