Page 37 of Merrily Ever After
He looks at me. Licks his hand.
“I mean, we do okay. You get all your check-ups. You’re hitting all your milestones. Everyone likes you. It means you’ll probably be a little brat at thirteen, but who knows what the world will be like then. Robots for teachers and all that.” I squirt out more ketchup for him. “Who’s your favorite person in the world?”
His answer is instant. “Bunny.”
“Bunny is a teddy bear Megan made for you,” I remind him. “Who else?”
“Megan.”
“Okay, well, that’s not fair because she buys your love.”
He eats a chicken nugget.
I sit back, watching him. I do my best. We go to museums and play in the park. We read before bedtime. We occasionally try a green vegetable when we’re in a good mood.
So why do I still feel like I’m not good enough? And why does it feel like everyone else thinks that too?
“Rain’s stopped,” I tell him, and he gazes solemnly back at me as he licks the ketchup off his fingers. “You want to go see the animals in the manger?”
He smiles so bright my heart hurts.
I take him to the Mansion House on Dawson Street. The square white building is all lit up with giant falling snowflakes projected onto the walls. In front of it sits the live nativity scene where staff members are showing the last of the visitors out.
Mam used to bring Molly and me every year. It was originally set up to let the poor, deprived city children see a real-life animal and it looks exactly the same as I remember. A small wooden arcade that’s a little bit crap and yet completely magical.
“Closing up,” the security guard calls, but he takes one look at Tiernan and my bedraggled state and sighs. “Be quick.”
“Donkey,” Tiernan says, pointing at the first stall where the sleeping creature lies peacefully.
“Correct.” I look up at the guard. “My child is a genius.”
He doesn’t respond.
We spend a few minutes saying hello to the goats and sheep, and Tiernan doesn’t seem to mind that they’re all fast asleep and otherwise pretty boring. I take some pictures to send to my parents and try to come up with a reason when he asks why there weren’t any dinosaurs at Jesus’s birthday because he doesn’t like to be reminded that all the dinosaurs are dead. In the end, I just say they didn’t fit inside the stable.
When we come out the other side, a girl in another elf costume puts down her phone and holds out a lollipop to him before glancing at me.
“You want one too?”
Obviously. The pink indicates it’s strawberry flavored. It just tastes like sugar to me. I push us onwards, heading down theroad toward the bus stop. Each pub and restaurant I pass is packed with people, and the crowds mean many are standing outside, talking and laughing, and not paying attention to the woman with a pram trying to get by. Eventually, I just start wheeling into their toes, which earns me some glares but otherwise gets them to move.
I’m tired and I’m cold and those fries I had arenotsitting well in my stomach. All I want to do is go home, but Tiernan leans forward in his pram and points curiously at a tall church nearby. Some sort of choral service is on judging by the music, and people trickle in and out as the stained-glass windows above them glow with golden light.
A young priest stands at the door with a collection bucket for the local children’s hospital in his hands.
“I don’t have any cash,” I say as we approach him.
“We accept Apple Pay.”
“Of course you do.” I tap my phone against the machine and nod at the door. “Can we go in?”
“Please do.” He smiles in welcome, but I pause.
“We’re not religious. I mean, I was baptized because, you know, Ireland, but he isn’t, so he’s not going to burst into flames or anything, will he?”
The priest shrugs. “So long as you keep him away from the holy water.”
An excellent tip.
