Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 95765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
And then I send off a message to my dispatch manager to tell him I won’t be in for the Saturday morning shift today.
I’d chide myself for recklessness if I wasn’t well aware of the truth – I normally convince myself I’m needed there, but it’s bullshit. It’s been bullshit for months.
There’s less of an anti-climax when I head back down the hill track for home this morning. Cameron is already up when I get in, sitting in his high chair as Serena pours his cereal.
“He was an early riser today,” she tells me, and she isn’t kidding. I figure he’s at least an hour early until I check the clock.
No. Forty minutes of that is down to me.
My boy looks happy with himself, scrolling through the channels on the TV remote even though his favourite is on channel one. I normally do it for him. Seemingly that was an error on my part.
I watch him pressing the buttons, more than capable of navigating the menu.
Choices.
He’s making active choices.
Baby-steps outside the norm.
And why wouldn’t he? He’s perfectly capable of making his own TV choices.
If only I’d let him.
“Hey, champ. Daddy’s staying home today,” I tell him. “We can go feed the ducks. Maybe grab an ice-cream. You’d like that, right?”
His smile is bright and easy. His dimples take my breath.
My equilibrium wobbles but holds.
“Not going in?” Serena asks, and I shake my head.
“It’s a nice day. They can cover it.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Are you feeling okay?”
It surprises me to find that I am.
Or I am until she flashes me a guilty expression.
“What’s up?” I ask on instinct.
She doesn’t answer, just flicks through the pages of her Saturday newspaper on the worktop. Like that shit’s gonna cut it.
“What’s that look for?” I prompt, and she sighs.
She fishes her phone from her dressing gown pocket and hands it over. My mood shrivels to nothing as I see the message icon flashing.
“You didn’t? Just tell me that you didn’t.”
But she won’t. Of course she won’t.
She can’t.
I click to read her messages, and sure enough there’s a string from Jake.
Ash.
He calls himself Ash now, for the sake of my prolonged misery as much as his own.
“He had a right to know about the offer,” she insists, but I shake my head.
“He has no right to anything,” I snap. “Nothing, Serena. Not one goddamn thing.”
I keep my tone in check for Cam’s sake, gritting my teeth behind him as he remains oblivious.
“He wants to talk,” she hisses, like I’m the one who’s fucking unreasonable here.
Maybe I am.
“I don’t,” I tell her. “I made my decision. I told them I’m not selling, and I’m not. End of story. Job done.”
“And what if Jake has other ideas?”
I shrug. “Not my problem. I’m the main signatory.”
Serena’s eyes are dark brown oceans of fuck you when she folds her newspaper up. She props her weight on one hip and flashes me the lip curl.
“You two need your heads banging together,” she tells me and then she sighs. “Please, Leo. Please just speak to him.”
I shake my head. “It’s Phoenix,” I point out, but she closes her eyes.
“Leo, please. Please. Just speak to him. We can’t go on like this. None of us can. Not you, not me, not Jake, either. Or Cam.”
I flinch as she says my boy’s name.
“We’re good,” I snap, even though it’s a lie.
Cameron finally decides on a channel. It’s not the one I was expecting. Monkeys run up a tree. Some documentary thing.
Hell, the world has jumped an inch on its axis somewhere.
“We need to start living again,” Serena continues, oblivious. “Please, Leo. Please let us start living again.”
The pain is back in my gut at the thought.
The flames are back under my skin as our eyes meet across the room.
Determined meets furious, but this time I bite my tongue. This time I stay exactly where I am, with Cameron’s documentary playing in the background, and the sun still shining in through the kitchen window.
Let us start living again.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. My heart jumps in my chest.
“Leo?” Serena prompts again. “Will you talk to him?”
I call up my notifications and sure enough there is a little number 1 next to my hook-up message inbox.
Let us start living again.
Serena’s eyes are pleading. Desperate.
Cameron turns up the volume on his documentary.
And I stop. Think.
Living again.
Maybe she’s right.
I call up my contact list before I can think better of it.
Six
Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.
Norman Cousins
Abigail
I’ve been in my apartment three months already without so much as waving to a neighbour, but today feels different. I’ve seen her in the communal hallway before – an older woman with short blonde hair. Up until now I’ve always hung back and kept my distance.