Page 68 of Maybe
“But there are some bits to sort to make it happen.”
“Yeah.” I felt him nod. “And maybe it’s going to get ugly. We can’t ignore that. I want you to get to know Ed and Saffy again. I think they’ll be okay. But my mum will hear about us. My friend, Alaric, has already put two and two together. It’s only fair my mum hears it from me, not the likes of Mustard Michael.”
Now might be my moment to tell Isaac about the inroads I was making with his mother. But if I did, he’d probably want to have her over or something, speed the process up. And then he’d see what an absolute lush she’d become.
“Fuck knows what we’ll say if anyone asks us how we met,” I said instead, and was rewarded by Isaac’s low chuckle.
“We could make something up. Like, you were busking, and I tripped over your guitar lead and broke my leg, then sued you for damages, except I called it off after you dedicated every song you sung, from then on, to me.”
“Or we could say that I was a urology patient, and once you saw the size of my cock, no other man would do and we…”
We were off for a while, riffing on stories growing more and more outlandish, sleepy, but not wanting to sleep.
“Jonty and me are going home on Sunday,” I said, after we’d run out of silliness. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guessed. You don’t have to, though. I mean, know my place is too far from Jonty’s school, long term, but we could work something out until you find somewhere decent. Or, you know, you could always stay. Perhaps he could start the new school year at a school near here.”
A couple of months ago, I’d have bitten his head off. Now I smiled.
“Thank you. But he likes the borough where we live, and he’s at a good school. He’s happy there and doing well. And even though it’s falling down, the middle school he starts in September is good, too.” I sighed. “We’ll find somewhere.”
Even though it was the right thing to do, leaving would be hard. The warmth of Isaac’s solid body seeping into mine reminded me of that. I wanted it every night.
“I’m not going to tell you how to live your life, Ez. How could I? You’ve done an amazing job of it without assistance from the Fitz-Henry’s. But is doling out brotherly advice only a one-way street?”
“No.” I snuggled in even closer and tried not to sound sulky. “I thought you said you liked the part of me when I’m a dick.”
“I do. And you’re doing a damn sight better than me. And on a shoestring, too. I wish you’d let me help, though.”
“Yeah, well. No. I’m a stubborn git.”
He huffed. “Tell me something I don’t know. What would you be doing now, do you think, if things with the family had been different?”
My skin prickled. “I never go down that road, Isaac.”Fitz-Henrys don’t have dreams; we have goals.“Carly used to slap me whenever I did. Though I can’t busk forever. It suits now, because I decide the hours, but when Jonty’s a bit more independent, I’d like to teach guitar. In schools perhaps, and private individual lessons. The clarinet, too, if I brushed up on it.”And could afford to buy one.“I’d like to concentrate more on song writing. For other people, maybe bands more suited to them than Neil’s.”
“I’ve got toes but I’m not a toaster,” Isaac hummed. “Yep, Taylor Swift’s next hit right there.”
He got a punch in the shoulder for that.
“Mrs Unwin told me that if I’d been a real Viking, I’d have died of my asthma.”
“That was nice of her.” We were in Isaac’s car on the way to the school play: me, Isaac, and Jonty. Like a real family, except that I couldn’t believe a single family in existence could be as happy as us over the last few days. Roles were developing between us, seamlessly. For someone who professed to be rubbish with kids, Isaac was much better than he realised. Even if I was being typecast as sensible, fun-sponge parent to his fun one.
“Modern medicines, like antibiotics and your blue asthma puffer, weren’t invented in those days,” explained Isaac. “Vikings relied on plants and herbs and things. Some of which, like extracts from willow and poppies, we still use today.”
“Mmm.” Jonty seemed unimpressed. “Mrs Unwin said it’s because Vikings thought sick children were weak. They threw them into the sea, alive.”
“Oh.” Isaac and I exchanged a glance before I eyed Jonty through the rear-view mirror.
“Mrs Unwin teaches you history, does she?”
“No. Science.”
“Oh.”
“She also says that babies are born without any kneecaps. I’m going to check when Mummy’s baby is born.”
“Check carefully, yeah?”
