Page 125 of Playing for Keeps
I walked around the breakfast bar and pulled Theo into a fierce hug. “Of course not. Mum loves you so much. Sometimes people get sick and it’s no one’s fault.”
Even as I said the words, guilt engulfed me.
Was I right? Was no one to blame?
Focus on Theo. I had to focus on Theo right now. Char and I were his whole world, and half of that world had suddenly disappeared.
I knew exactly how that felt. I’d coped with it myself when my dad had left. And I knew what would be going through Theo’s brain right now.
The same things that had gone through mine.
Wondering what you’d done wrong. Wondering if you could have done something different to make them stay.
Fuck, the idea that my perfect son would think this was his fault shattered me.
“You want a game of battleships when you finish your noodles?”
“Okay.”
We started playing battleships after lunch but Theo got cranky when I sunk two of his battleships in a row without him hitting one of mine, so I relented and switched on the TV. Normally I didn’t let him watch TV during the day, but if ever there was a day to throw out the rules, it was today.
As I tidied up the kitchen, I thought about how Char and I had always been on the same page when it came to rules for Theo. Like screen time. I’d come from a house where the TV had blared 24/7. But maybe it wasn’t surprising that Char and I were united in our parenting approach, because I had pretty much just copied everything I’d seen her parents do when we were growing up.
There was a knock on the door and I walked down the hallway to open it.
Luke.
He looked like shit.
Exactly like how I felt.
“I brought you some food,” he said, holding up a bakery bag. “I didn’t know if you’d had a chance to get to a supermarket or anything.”
“Thanks.”
Luke. Always thinking about me. Always caring about me. A lump rose in my throat.
He followed me down the hallway and poked his head into the lounge. “Hey, Theo.”
Theo’s eyes flicked away from the TV for a moment.
“Hi, Uncle Luke.” God, he sounded so much older than six. His eyes drifted back to his cartoon.
Luke followed me into the kitchen.
“How’s he doing?” His eyes were concerned.
“Not great. I’m worried he’s going to think it’s because of something he’s done.”
“He won’t think that.”
I rubbed at my forehead. “It’s what I thought when my dad left.”
Luke stared at me. Then he came over and put one arm around me, pulling me close to him. I leaned into his familiar warmth and scent, until guilt gnawed at my stomach, making it impossible to swallow.
I pulled away.
“I think Char was suspicious about us,” I said.
