Page 66 of Open Water

“Hedda’s Dad works at School? I’ve never heard anyone say anything about that?” Max is actually holding a conversation. A normal conversation. Tom is impressed.

“He’s the German teacher,” Matteo fills in, as Tom looks a bit lost.

“Does Hedda do German?” Lukas asks.

“Nah.” Max shakes his head. “She’s in my French class.”

“See?” Lukas looks almost relieved. “No conflict of interest. So, as long as we are all honest and up front, I’m sure it will be fine. Just don’t call me Dad, because that would be weird.” Lukas’s face is all scrunched up in a grimace. “I’m just your Dad’s friend. That’s all.”

“Okay, Dad,” Max teases, his face full of mischief. “I think you should be Dad, Dad. Dad One and Dad Two.” He’s behaving like a kid again and Matteo just laughs.

“I’m Lukas.” Lukas sounds stern. Definitely back in teacher mode. “Just Lukas. Get used to it.”

“So not Dad, norfamily, or are we?” Matteo tries, but Lukas cuts him off.

“We’re eating dinner together. Like a family. If it looks like a family, then let’s call it a family. What will probably happen is that I will end up not teaching either of you next year, but that doesn't mean that I won't support you, because you can come and see me anytime at school. I mean that. I am there for you, and if you need help outside school, I will always be there too. I mean that, boys. Don’t ever hesitate to come and find me if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Matteo mutters. Looking a bit distraught. Biting his cheek like he is struggling to find the right words to say. “So, are you guys really together?” he starts. Wondering if he has said too much.

“Me and Lukas?” Tom says, and he can’t stop the smile that is plastered all over his face.

“Yeah.”

He can barely believe it himself. They haven't even kissed yet, but it feels good. Solid. Like they are finally on the same page and both hellbent on giving this a go, which is all Tom has ever wanted. Just to try. To see if they can make it work. To find that little spark that was there once upon a time. And to be honest, the spark is a bloody bonfire that has made itself a permanent home in Tom’s chest. Burning and sparkling and throwing red hot embers all over his body at the most stupid moments. Like right now, when Tom seriously considers just ditching the dinner table and dragging Lukas out in the hallway, so he can kiss the living daylights out of him.

“Are you moving in then?” Max doesn’t look like it’s something big, life altering event. Just casually asking whilst stuffing his mouth with a piece of tortilla, melting cheese dripping from his fingers.

“Not yet,” Lukas says, then stutters and clearly backtracks. “Maybe one day. I mean, we haven't even talked about that?” He looks at Tom who is just smiling like he can’t do anything else, but stare and smile. Drool a little from the corner of his mouth. Damn, Lukas is handsome. Even though there is a drip of meat sauce on his shirt. And something green stuck between his teeth.

“And are you having more kids? I mean, if we are going to have more kids here, you need to talk to me. I mean, a baby would be cute I suppose, but where would it sleep?” Now Tom’s mouth is hanging slack. He can’t believe Max has just said that.

“Would you like a sibling?” Tom says. “You always said you didn’t, that you liked that it was just you?”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know…” Ha! Now Max is speechless.

Tom 1 – Max 0.

“You should foster.” Matteo sounds stern. Like this is something he knows. “You have no idea how many kids are out there who nobody wants. Anyone in their teens won’t get adopted, because people don’t want some grumpy kid who just hates their life. People just want little fairy-tale-perfect babies, not spotty boys with issues. You have no idea how happy you will make someone if you take them in and look after them and tell them they can stay…”

Oh hell. Now Matteo has his face in his hands, scrambling from the table, as Max reaches for him, trying to make him stay.

“I just need a minute, Pumpkin,” he whispers and stumbles out in the hallway, with Max hot on his heels.

“He’s staying,” Tom says. “I just don’t know how to put it to him. I hate that he lives in that home, and I want him to be here, permanently. Have you seen the bag he carries around? That’s all his worldly belongings. He has everything he owns in that bag and he carries it around everywhere, so it won’t get nicked. Lukas, hecan’tlive like that. He needs a home.Here.”

“With us,” Lukas says, like his head is deep in thought.

“With us.” Tom loves the way that sounds as the words roll off his tongue.

“This is crazy. I mean, we can’t sit here and plan our entire lives out, when we don’t even know what the hell we are doing. I haven’t got a clue what we are doing right now, Tom. Have you?”

“Not the foggiest. Honestly. Sorry. Too much.”

Tom can’t even think straight right now, so he starts to clear the table. Loading plates onto the counter next to the sink, whilst his head is kind of spinning. It’s almost comforting when Lukas starts the tap and runs the frying pan under the water, adding washing up liquid in a smooth circle over the surface. Itiscomforting that they don't have to talk, like this is okay. They both have something to occupy their hands, and, well, someone needs to clear up this mess. Usually Tom would have just left it. Let it all sit in the sink for the week until the cleaning people come in and put his house back in order, but that seems like a time long ago now. A time when he had nothing to care about more than waking and living and breathing and hoping that his son might open his mouth and speak to him.

It’s over too quickly though, the kitchen clear and clean, the leftovers neatly stacked in the fridge.

“Fancy some ice cream?” Tom tries, hoping Lukas will say yes.Just give me something to do. Please.

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