Writers & Lovers(48)

I cut the cards and bend back both halves easily. I release my thumbs, and the cards slot together perfectly, fast and smooth. I slip my fingers underneath the overlapping pile and bend it the other way in a sharply arched bridge, and they whoosh down together beautifully. There is nothing like a good deck of cards.

The boys are staring.

‘What?’

‘How did you do that?’

‘This?’ I cut the deck and do it again.

‘Yeah.’

‘You haven’t taught your kids to shuffle?’ I call over to Oscar.

‘We shuffle.’

‘We do it like this.’ John splits the deck and tries to wedge one half into the other sideways.

‘Stop.’ I gently take the deck away from him. ‘You must never do that again. That is old-man shuffling, and no one should be doing that under the age of ninety-three.’

‘Ageist,’ Oscar says, flipping the chicken fingers. ‘Twelve minutes.’

‘Okay,’ I tell them. ‘You’ve each got six minutes to learn.’

I hand the deck to Jasper first, which makes John impatient and Jasper uneasy. He’s used to John paving the way, going into the unknown ahead of him. The first few times I put my hands over his and we do it together, then I take mine away. His fingers barely span the length of the deck and the cards scissor sideways and the bridge snaps.

‘I can’t.’

‘Try it again.’

He tries.

‘I can’t.’

‘You can. Again.’

On the fifth try he does it. Splat and whoosh. ‘Papa, watch. Watch!’

Oscar comes and stands at the edge of the rug.

After a few more attempts Jasper does it again. And again.

‘Wow, Jaz. Look at you,’ Oscar says. ‘I wish someone had taught me how to do that at age five. I wouldn’t be ninety-three now.’

I smile, but I don’t look up. I’ve only got a few minutes left to teach John.

He doesn’t let me do it with him, but after a few tries he gets it. They pass the deck back and forth, practicing, imprinting it, their small hands more sure each time. John manages a particularly long bridge that flutters down with a beautiful shushhhhhh.

They look at each other.

‘It’s so cool,’ Jasper says.

‘It’s so, so cool,’ John says.

‘Okay. A tavola,’ Oscar says.

‘Crazy Eights after dinner?’ I say.

‘After dinner is books and bedtime,’ Oscar says. He points to the chair I’m supposed to sit in, opposite him and beside Jasper. ‘Five cucumber slices for every chicken stick,’ he tells his boys.

We pass around the plates of food. The chicken fingers are golden and greasy. There are two dipping options for the cucumbers, ranch or Italian. It all tastes so good. I get the boys to tell me stories: the day John got on the wrong school bus; the time Jasper took a nap and didn’t wake up until the next day; the night they locked the babysitter out of the house.

‘Tell the Nurse Ellen story, Papa,’ Jasper says.

‘That’s a bedtime story, not a supper story.’ ‘Tell it!’ John says.

‘Tell it!’ Jasper says.

He puts his hand on my wrist. ‘It’s so funny.’

Oscar does not want to tell this story. He looks down at his plate and shakes his head, but the boys persist and he looks at John and says, ‘You really want me to?’

John nods.

‘When their mother, my wife, Sonya, was in the hospital, there were good nurses, and there were bad nurses.’

‘There were happy nurses, and there were sad nurses,’ John says.

‘There were fat nurses, and there were thin nurses,’ Jasper says.

‘And then there was Nurse Ellen.’

‘Nurse Ellen was mean.’

‘She was cruel.’

‘She was bitter.’

‘She hated everyone.’

‘But most of all she hated children,’ Oscar says.

‘Children aren’t allowed in the morning!’

‘Children aren’t allowed in the afternoon!’

‘I had to smuggle them in. On gurneys, in laundry bins, in vacuum cleaner bags, and under the domes on trays of food.’

‘Papa would come alone, and Mama would cry, “You didn’t bring the boys!” ’

‘And out we’d pop!’

‘When we heard Nurse Ellen, we’d hide under Mama’s covers.’

‘We had to be so, so quiet.’

‘“I smell children!” she’d thunder.’

‘And Papa would say, “No, no children today.” ’

‘We tried to win her over,’ Oscar says.

‘Mama said, “She likes cars.” ’

‘And Papa bought her a book about car racing.’

‘Mama said, “She likes outer space.” ’

‘And John gave her his Lego girl astronaut.’

‘Mama said, “She likes animals.” ’

‘And Jasper gave her his little dog with the sucked-off ears.’

‘But nothing satisflied her.’

‘Satisfied.’

‘Not flowers.’