Bright Burning Things(65)

‘Grand. I’ll pop the pizza in the oven, keep it warm.’

I think of the smell of burnt fish fingers, the congealed bits in the oven, say nothing.

‘Tommy, are you ok with this?’ I say as I step back into the bedroom. Am I ok with this?

He turns his back and steps out of his wet clothes, uses the same towel he dried Herbie off with and almost flays himself with it. I attempt to laugh, lightly. ‘Ok, I think that’s enough. Do you want to put your PJs on?’ He steps into his jeans, T-shirt and hoodie. I sit at the dressing-table mirror, brushing out my hair before turning on the hairdryer full blast. Both the animals jump. ‘Want me to dry your hair, buster?’ I say to Tommy, who ignores me, goes into the kitchen, animals in tow. I can hear mumbles. Quickly dress in a slouchy long-sleeved T-shirt dress, apply a slick of mascara, pull my hair back with an elastic.

‘Well, don’t you look nice. Doesn’t Mummy look nice, Tommy?’

David is holding Tommy at the kitchen sink so he can wash his hands. Tommy’s body is rigid. David ignores this. I sit at the table while David dries off Tommy’s hands with kitchen towel, then pulls out a chair for him.

‘It’s vegetarian. I know how you don’t like to eat animals,’ David says to Tommy, cutting his slice into bite-sized pieces, standing over him.

Tommy eats, every last morsel.

‘When did he last eat?’

I think of the peanut butter sandwich he nibbled at.

‘Before we went to the park.’

‘Did you go out in the rain?’

There is no right answer to that.

‘This little fella was telling me all about school.’

‘I’m sorry you have to go, Tommy.’

‘I think you’ll find he quite likes it, Sonya.’

‘Do you, Tommy?’

He looks out the window, then down at Herbie and Marmie, then back out the window, his gaze agitated, not resting on anything for very long.

‘He was telling me his painting was hung at the front of the classroom, and he got a gold star.’

‘That’s cool, Tommy. I always told you you could be an artist!’

‘Or maybe an engineer, an architect, something with prospects?’ David says.

Tommy nods, like he thinks this is a very good idea. Does he even know what ‘prospects’ means?

‘Want a cup of tea, Sonya?’

No, I fucking don’t. ‘Please,’ I say, holding my hand up. ‘No milk.’

‘Ah now, don’t you think I know that much about you by now?’ He looks at Tommy as he says this and laughs. ‘No milk for Mummy.’

Tommy laughs back, aping him, a sound that doesn’t belong to him. Has he been guzzling cow’s milk from the carton since our separation? I don’t think I could bear that.

‘Are you eating, Sonya?’ David says.

‘Oh ok, just a sliver, then, with my tea.’ Ms Sanity is making a guest appearance.

‘Do you think you could put that dog out?’

‘Herbie is an indoor dog. And anyway, it’s raining out there.’

‘Would you not get it a kennel?’

I look at Tommy, who is staring at me ferociously.

‘Absolutely out of the question. That dog has been traumatised enough.’

‘Not asking you to get an electric one!’

Tommy gets up and walks into the sitting room, sits on the floor, and for the first time since coming home he puts his arms around his pal. I watch, grateful.

‘That’s bloody unhygienic,’ David mumbles, standing behind me.

‘You sound exactly like my father.’ I try on a laugh.

‘Is that your stock answer when you hear something you don’t like?’

I steer him back into the kitchen, attempt to generate a charge, to wrestle some power back, whisper, ‘Have you missed me?’ There’s not a trace of the man who took me on the floor, here, who devoured me. I wonder if I made it all up.

‘Sonya, I didn’t like your tone of voice when you called. Remember the incident in the park?’

Feel exactly as I used to when I’d tell my father a secret, and he’d look at me in that way, and then later, in some argument, he’d use it against me, or worse still he’d have told Lara and she’d throw it at me: ‘No wonder those girls in school don’t talk to you.’

‘You hinted at stuff, Sonya. And then earlier, your voice, it contained within it the possibility of all that.’

All of what, exactly? What did I say to him? I’d never have driven away, left Tommy on his own in the house. I just need to learn to sit with the urges, to soothe myself.

‘We both know what you’re capable of, don’t we?’ he continues.

I think of the guys in the meetings talking about what it means to be a mature adult: discerning, protecting themselves, not exposing themselves to the wrong sort of people. Think of Linda, imagine Mark bamboozling her with his questions, questions none of which she can answer correctly, designed to trip her up, no matter what shapes and sounds her mouth gives form to.

David walks into the living room. ‘How’s Tommy? This must be hard, huh? Strange being back in your old house?’

Herbie makes a low grumbling sound.

I follow him in. ‘Not really, is it, Tommy? Just take a few days to get used to each other is all.’