Friend Request(36)

I honestly think Henry is OK with parents who are not together, but I don’t think I will ever get used to watching him walk away from me to a world I know nothing about. I always knew that when he was a teenager he would have an unknown life away from me that I couldn’t control, but it feels so terribly wrong that he should have that now, aged four. There are people intimately involved in his life about whom I know practically nothing. A stepmother who doesn’t come to the door. A little sister I’ve never seen. When he’s not with me, how can I know if he is safe?

‘You’re a bit late,’ says Sam.

‘I know, sorry, we were playing trains, and then the traffic was bad…’

‘It’s OK, Louise, I don’t mind.’ He looks at me closely. ‘But… is something wrong? Anything I should know?’ He leans against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets.

‘What do you mean?’ Has he had the Facebook request too?

He is silent for a moment, as if weighing something up.

‘Nothing. It’s just you’ve seemed a bit… distracted lately. And you’ve been late with Henry a couple of times. I just wondered… Is everything OK?’

‘Yes, everything’s fine.’ I fight the urge to run into the house and gather Henry up, take him away somewhere it can just be the two of us, for ever. Somewhere where I never have to watch him walk away from me into the unknown again.

‘Are you sure, Louise? You seem…’ he trails off.

‘I’m fine. It’s none of your business anyway, is it? How I seem?’ I know I’m overreacting, but I can’t stop myself.

He holds his hands up. ‘OK, OK. I was only asking. I do still care about you, you know. I know things haven’t worked out the way we planned.’ I raise my eyebrows at this, the understatement of the year, but he ignores me and carries on: ‘But I’ll always care about you, whether you want me to or not.’ I hear Polly’s voice in my head, snorting: care about you? He had a funny way of showing it. How long would I have gone on pretending everything was OK, if I hadn’t found the text message from Catherine on his phone that forced his hand?

I turn to go, but Sam stops me.

‘Wait, Louise.’

I turn, confused. ‘What?’

‘Have you heard about this school reunion?’

‘Oh. Yes.’ Why is he suddenly asking me about it now?

‘Are you going?’ he asks, and I think I can detect a dangerous note of hope in his voice.

‘I don’t know. Are you?’ I think of his name on the Facebook page. I know he is going.

‘Yeah, why not? Should be a laugh.’ He’s aiming for levity, but I’m not fooled. I think of the sixteen-year-old Sam, so cool, so popular. Is he hoping to have a night where he gets to be that boy again, with the world at his feet?

‘Maybe,’ I say as I walk away from him down the path. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at five.’

‘OK, see you then.’ He closes the door softly and I get back into the car, struggling to breathe normally. How is it that he can still do this to me? When am I going to get to the stage where he can’t hurt me, where his words slip over me without even touching? As I drive away, I wonder whether I will ever be able to leave Henry with him without this terrible, gnawing sense of dread.

Chapter 15

2016
The rest of the day drags by. This is another part I haven’t got used to: the empty weekends. When Sam and I were together, I relished the rare occasions when I got to spend time alone. Sometimes, despite my all-encompassing love for Henry, it felt as though they were the only times that I was truly myself, when I got rid of this interloper who had entered my life at the same time as Henry had, this mother. But when Henry is at Sam’s now, I am lost. I know there are galleries and cinemas and museums I could be visiting, but I also know that if I do I’ll see some nuclear family going to see a Disney movie, or following the signs for the interactive family museum workshop, and I’ll feel a physical pain at the absence of the small hand that should be in mine.

I could see friends, I suppose, but Polly is often busy at the weekends ferrying the girls to their various activities, and even if she isn’t I don’t want to intrude on their family time – the spectre at the feast, reminding her and Aaron what life could look like if they’re not careful with each other. I do have other friends, but it’s frightening how easy it is to let them drift away. Turn down enough invitations and eventually even the most determined will stop asking. It would take a Herculean effort now to weave myself back into their lives and I don’t have the energy for it. Instead I watch from the sidelines on Facebook, liking photos of barbecues, birthday parties, days out, knowing that I only have myself to blame for not being there in the pictures.

What I often do is take the opportunity to catch up on some work. Rosemary has sent me several emails about different problems with one of her projects, and I know she’ll be surprised that I haven’t responded yet, but I just can’t settle to anything today. As soon as the clock crawls round to an hour whereby I can reasonably leave without being absurdly early, I’m out of the flat. I ought to have spent hours choosing what to wear, applying flattering make-up, styling my hair. The fact that I half-heartedly blow-dried my hair, bunged on a bit of mascara and lipstick and threw on jeans and one of my only ‘going out’ tops, doesn’t exactly bode well for the date.