Page 63 of Forgive Not Forget
“Come through to the kitchen.”
She pulled out a seat at the kitchen island for him and fished out the first aid kit from the cupboard under the sink.
Tom took a seat. “You don’t like me, do you?”
“I don’t know you, Tom, so how can I not like you?”
He shrugged and placed his bleeding hand in her waiting hand.
“I don’t like Anna,” he confessed. “She’s bossy. She’s trying to be our mum.”
“You don’t like her because she doesn’t let you run rings around her,” Katherine said firmly. “And she’s not trying to be your mum. She’s trying to give you some stability and continuity whilst your mum can’t be here. And that’s Anna all over, giving.” She cleaned his hand none too gently with an alcohol wipe.
Tom flinched and sucked in a breath.
“Sorry.” Katherine stopped and looked at him. “She didn’t have to be here for you this weekend, you know. She could have left you to a stranger’s care. Instead she gave up her weekend and annual leave to be here for you and Abigail, so you could stay at home in familiar surroundings. I know sometimes when you’re young, and even when you’re an adult, it’s hard to see what others are doing for you. If I know Anna, and I do, better than anyone, I’d bet she’s tried her hardest this weekend to do what she can for you, to make you feel as settled as possible.”
He considered this, then admitted, “She bought us popcorn and sweets, and we’re making pizzas for dinner. That’s my favourite.”
Katherine nudged her shoulder into Tom’s. “See? Anna isn’t even that keen on pizza. That’s for you.”
A little smile teased at his lips.
Hopeful it was a sign she was breaking through his defences. It was time to confront the issue, as tenderly as she could. She returned her focus to cleaning his hand rather than intimidating him with eye contact.
“Did you spray-paint the abbey, Tom?”
His leg fidgeted and he looked down at his hand.
“Can I ask why you did it?”
Tom shrugged. “Bored, I guess. The bloody can fell out of my back pocket when I jumped up the kerb. It went into my back wheel and threw me off. I hope it hasn’t broken my bike.”
“Never mind the bike, Tom! You’re lucky the can didn’t explode or cause you to break a bone.” Katherine stopped herself. She hadn’t intended on raising her voice; it never helped in these situations, especially with children. “You’re really into riding, aren’t you?”
“I used to ride my bike at the BMX track every day where we used to live. Then Mum decided she couldn’t be there anymore because it reminded her of Dad, so we ended up in this boring village where there’s nothing to do.”
“I understand that. A fresh start can help people, though. It helped me when I lost someone.”
Tom looked at her. “Who?”
“My wife and our unborn baby.”
Any remaining colour washed out of his face. “Sorry.”
“Thank you. What is it about biking that you like so much?”
“I like the adrenaline rush. I feel in control, focused. It kind of helps me let off steam.” He paused. “It helps me forget things for a while. Then…”
She caught his eye. “It hurts when you stop forgetting and start remembering again.”
Tom nodded as he lowered his head to wipe his eye.
“Sometimes there comes a point when we have to move on, and sometimes we just need a little help to do that. I did. I have Anna now, but… I haven’t moved on completely. I still feel the pain.” Katherine thumped her chest with her fist. “A wise man once told me that to live is to lose, and if you’re not losing, you’re not living.”
“What does that even mean?” Tom asked.
Katherine smiled at the boy. “I take from it that losing people we love is part of life; it’s part of the bargain. We have to accept it. We also owe it to ourselves and the ones we’ve lost to continue living our best life after, for ourselves and them. It also means we must take chances to find love again and accept that we may lose it again. We can’t control loss, but we can control how it affects us. There comes a point when we have to accept that something bad happened, and we have to decide if we’re going to let it control the rest of our lives. It doesn’t mean we should forget them, though, perhaps just hold them at a distance.”
