Page 117
Story: Silver Lining
He worked. I worked. I just didn’t get paid much. But then, I lived frugally and paid rent and helped out and…
My savings weren’t going to last me forever. Maybe I would have to start drawing my pension next year. I could pick up more driving jobs, but then the ones I did were more than enough. Perhaps a small afternoon job at the local preschool would have been the ideal solution…
“You can still accept the job,” Constance said. “It’s just a week. And I’d feel better if you came.”
“You want me dead or alive?” I countered. “It’s a plane.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I—”
“You can. Stew, you’re a fully grown man. You go on trains. You drive cars.”
“Cars don’t fly.”
“Pigs don’t either.” She rolled her eyes.
God help me.
“I would traumatise you all, having to endure me having a panic attack of some sort. I’m having one right now just thinking about it.”
“Then Dad will make you an appointment with his therapist. He says he’s very good.”
“No. I’m fine.” I was. Perhaps. Maybe not. Bah. So much going on.
“But you love me.” She batted her eyelashes the way she did. And yes. God help me. I loved her, and I loved Marmie, and I had a very special soft spot for the little boy who was currently drawing on the floor.
“Nugget, on the paper, my darling.”
“No!” he shouted, holding up a crayon.
“Yes,” I said calmly. “Daddy will be back any minute, and then we’re going in the car. So be good, and then we’llgo to the park later with Jasmine. Then we have Spanish playgroup later. That will be fun, won’t it?”
“Jasmine!” He grinned. “I want to go see Jasmine now!”
“We’ll see Jasmine in a bit. Shall we sit at the table? Constance, do you want a cup of tea? Bring your laundry up, and I’ll pop the kettle on.”
“Tea.” She grunted. “You can’t just change the subject, and bribes with cups of tea don’t work with me.”
“I have biscuits.” I winked.
“You always have biscuits. Still doesn’t mean you’ll get away with having irrational plane phobias.”
“I don’t have irrational phobias.” I did. I was also a liar.
“Look. Dad is paranoid about Mum kidnapping us. Like, there’s a custody agreement. And I need to sit my exams the week after, so it’s, like, a no-brainer. Even Mum wouldn’t pull that.”
“Trust,” I said. “It’s a delicate thing.”
“I know.” She rolled her eyes again. I didn’t trust Veronica. Neither did Dylan. But I did trust Gun Larsen, and she still called, now and then. Her driver had retired, and she liked me. So on occasion, I took her where she needed to go, and in return, we’d continued our lopsidedfriendship. Good conversations. Laughter. And also a stern talking-to with regards to the law. There was a solid custody agreement in place now, and we just had to keep our heads on straight and our nerves in check. The law was on our side. Didn’t make any of it any easier.
“But mental health is a thing, Stewart. Look at Nugget here. He’s talking now. Sleeping at night. Marmie goes to school and has been out of those nappies for a while. We don’t want to step backwards, do we?”
Threats. She was her mother’s daughter all right.
“Don’t threaten me, Constance.”
“Says the man who’s besties with Gun Larsen.”
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