Page 53 of The Good Part
‘Has the house burnt down?’
‘No.’
‘Then you haven’t failed.’
‘Do you think I’m finding this parenting stuff hard because I don’t remember how to do it?’
‘No, it’s just hard sometimes. I imagine doubly hard if you don’t remember anything,’ says Faye. ‘They can send a man to Mars, but no one’s solved the problem of how to get a child dressed, fed and out of the house without someone losing their shit.’
‘They sent a man to Mars?’ I ask, astounded.
‘They did, and a woman, and a gerbil called Spacey McCheeks.’
‘I haven’t even had time to make myself a coffee. I’ve failed to do any of the washing. I can’t even remember if I’ve been to the loo today. I don’t think I have – I don’t think I’ve done a wee in eight hours.’
‘Lucy, your child is ill, Sam is away, these are the days you just need to survive.’ Faye pauses. ‘You’re sure you don’t want me to come over? I could bring you some lavender tea.’
‘No, honestly, I just need two minutes to sit down and—’ I stop talking, startled by Felix looming over me with a half-empty box of crayons.
‘Amy ate my crayons,’ he says, brow creased in fury.
‘Sorry, Faye, I need to go. Crayons have been consumed.’
Felix and I stand over Amy in the living room, where she sits in a nest of broken crayons.
‘Do you think she’ll poop the rainbow now?’ Felix asks flatly. His tone makes me laugh, and I see a small smile play at the corner of his mouth. Together we put away all the puzzles and toys Amy has pulled down from the lowest shelf.
‘I’m sorry today was so crazy. I’ll be better tomorrow. I’ll get upreallyearly.’
Felix shrugs, he seems more annoyed about the crayons than anything else.
‘What’s the opposite of eating? Is it “not eating”, or is it being sick?’ he asks me.
‘I don’t know,’ I say, confused by this complete non-sequitur.
‘I think it’s being sick. What’s that beeping?’
‘It’s the washing machine. I can’t turn it off.’
He heads towards the laundry room and I follow with Amy.
‘I’m not letting you out of my sight, you little tornado of havoc,’ I tell her, gently pushing a finger to her nose. She grins up at me angelically.
Felix pulls down the barricade of clothes and shows me a button on the side of the machine. He holds it down for the count of three and finally, silence.
‘Wow. That easy, huh?’
Felix gives me an ‘It was nothing’ shrug. I slump down in the monumental pile of laundry.
‘I’m not very good at this, am I?’ I say quietly.
‘You’re doing okay,’ Felix says, lowering himself down into the laundry pile beside me. Then I feel his arm around my shoulders, Felix is hugging me.My son is hugging me. I have a son.The lightness of his small arm around my shoulder stirs something inside me, a new unfiltered affection for him, breaking over me like a wave. I don’t want to move or say anything because I don’t want him to stop.
‘Real Mummy finds it hard too. Sometimes she goes outside and shouts at the vegetables when she doesn’t want to shout at us.’
I don’t know whether this nugget of information is reassuring or disturbing. Passing him my phone, I say, ‘Come on then, show me these websites you want me to upload your drawing to.’ A promise is a promise.
Felix takes the phone, his face beaming. He taps away, then hands it back to me. ‘This is the best one, the site Molly’s dad said to use.’ He points to the website he’s opened, Arcadefind.co.uk. ‘It’s for people who collect these machines from the olden days.’ He hands me back the phone and I scroll through the subject headings. ‘Wanted; replacement red joystick for Donkey Kong arcade machine 412’. There are some incredibly niche requests on here. Maybe Felix is right. Maybe someone on this site knows where I can find that wishing machine.
