The Dilemma(14)

‘You’ll be off to New York soon. I’m going to miss you,’ I add, surprising myself because it’s the first time I’ve ever said anything remotely emotional to him. I brace myself for his rejection but to my surprise, some of the tension seems to evaporate.

‘Really?’

‘Yes, of course I will.’

He nods slowly, taking time to absorb what I’ve said. ‘You know back there when you said you wouldn’t change anything? Is that true?’

The air around us stills, as if everything and everyone, from the birds in the trees to the neighbours mowing their lawns, have realised the significance of Josh’s question and are holding their collective breath, hoping I’ll take this once in a lifetime chance – because we’ve never come near it before, and might never again – to put things straight between us. What has brought this on, I wonder, what has made Josh reach out to me, if that’s what this is? Is it because he’s leaving for the US soon and might not see us for a year?

Murphy raises his head and gives me a Don’t mess this up look. I think back to the remark Josh made this morning about there being advantages in having had my children young, and the way his eyes had darkened when I’d joked at the idea.

‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s not true. There are things I’d change if I could.’

‘What sort of things? Not married Mum? Had me put up for adoption?’ He stretches his long legs out in front of him and although there’s a slight joke in his tone, I know he means every word.

I look at him properly then. His hair is the same colour mine was before the grey bits came, and his face has the same angles, the nose slightly hooked at the end. ‘No, Josh,’ I say. ‘Not any of those things.’

‘What then?’

‘I’d still have married your mum, but later, once I’d been to university.’

‘You might have met someone else at university. She might have met someone else.’

I take a sip of beer, because it’s something I’ve often thought about. Livia and I had only known each other a few months and if she hadn’t become pregnant, maybe we wouldn’t have ended up together. I don’t suppose I figured in Livia’s long-term plans any more than she figured in mine, simply because neither of us were thinking that far ahead. And yet, after the first rocky few years, we’ve been happy, very happy.

‘Well, your mum is definitely the one for me, so I’m sure we’d have ended up together somehow.’

‘But you wouldn’t have had me.’

‘Of course we would have.’

‘No. If you’d married Mum later, you might still have had a son but he wouldn’t have been me. I’m only me because I was conceived and born when I was.’

It’s one of those times when it’s like looking at myself in a mirror. He has the hurt of rejection written all over him, just as I have. We’re bleeding each other dry, I realise.

My mind flashes back to the day he was building a Lego fort, and I became angry at his constant demands to help him.

‘Daddy, I only need help with this last bit,’ he’d said for the fifth time. ‘I did the rest all by myself, just like you told me to.’

‘It’s too old for him,’ Marnie kept telling me when I ignored him. ‘He can’t do it.’

But Josh had persevered and instead of praising him, I lost my temper and knocked the fort over.

‘Why you do that?’ Marnie asked, her grammar deserting her as she looked in horror at the trashed fort.

‘I – it was an accident,’ I lied.

The look she gave me, of pure disgust, reminded me of the one Livia used to give me when I eventually turned up after spending days in Bristol with Nelson.

‘No, you did it on purpose, I saw you! You went over and you did this.’ She made a swiping movement with her arm. ‘You’re horrible and I don’t like you anymore!’ She turned her back on me and went over to Josh. ‘Don’t cry,’ she said, reaching up and putting her arms round his waist. ‘I’ll help you build it again.’

Going over, I crouched down beside Josh, telling him I was sorry and offering to rebuild the fort with him. But he wouldn’t even acknowledge I was there.

‘Leave him alone, Daddy, it’s too late!’ Marnie had cried.

I’d looked up then and seen Livia standing in the doorway, her eyes bright with tears. Not the tears of frustration that I’d seen in the early stages of our marriage, but tears of desperation. And I wondered how long she’d been standing there, and how much she’d seen.

‘This can’t go on,’ she said shakily. ‘It really can’t.’ And I knew she was right.

I tried, but Josh would barely speak to me. He kept the distance I no longer wanted him to keep, and refused to let me help him with anything. Our conversations over the years went something like this.

‘Josh, would you like me to help you with your dinosaur project?’

‘No, thank you, Daddy.’

‘Josh, shall I help you paint your bike?’

‘No thanks, Dad.’

‘Josh, can I give you a hand moving that bed?’

‘I’m fine, thanks.’

‘Josh, do you need some help with your university applications?’