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“Well, I like calling you Marmie. Constance started it, and I think it’s a good name. Marmie. Phinney. And what? Connie?”

“Dad, no. Can’t bear it. Constance is fine. There was a girl at school who tried calling me Stancy. I almost punched her in the face.”

Now Marmie was laughing, and suddenly there was a little giggle from the car seat next to me.

A nugget being placed into his hand.

“Good boy,” I whispered, hoping it wouldn’t set him off again.

My baby. My youngest. The small child that had been ripped from me. Now he didn’t know me, and it hurtmore than I had expected. But here we were, years of heartbreak to try to mend. I wanted to stroke his hand, but we weren’t there yet.

“So you’re together?” Constance.

I swallowed and tried to compose myself as Stewart just looked at me with a smile on his face like he was in on this, when I knew full well he wasn’t.

“You’re supposed to be the older, wiser person here!” I hurled at him as he burst into another laugh.

“Well, you’re their father. I’m just the driver,” he defended himself.

“I thought you were the nanny,” Constance said with a little snort. “Looking after Daddy. He needs someone to look after him. Not very good on his own.”

“He’s actually quite good at looking after himself,” Stewart said softly. “He looks after me too.”

“Ha!” my daughter let out. “So youaretogether.”

“Is that an issue?” Stewart asked, while I shoved chips into my mouth and handed Phinney another nugget, watching this whole attempt at a reunion implode.

“Is nobody asking me anymore?”

“Nugget,” Phinneas said.

The first word he said to me was…nugget?

“Nugget, baby. Want a chip?” For a second, he looked like he was going to cry again. Staring at me. Big eyes. My son. My little baby.

“Does that mean you’re gay, Dad? We learnt about that at school,” Marmaduke piped up.

I sighed deeply.

“Nugget,” Phinneas said again, grasping at my arm.

“Don’t give him too many,” Constance warned, now sitting backwards in the front seat. “He’ll be sick.”

I couldn’t win, could I?

“I’m… I…I like Stewart. And he lives next door, so it’s not like he’s going to be living with us. Is that cool?”

“Has he got kids?” Marmie asked, like he was interrogating us all. “Dad, is there any more ketchup? Mine fell on the floor.”

Big blob of ketchup on the floor of Stewart’s car. He’d kill us all.

“It’s okay,” Stewart said, trying to lean back with a tissue in his hand.

He had ketchup down his front.

A small fact that just made this whole shitshow suddenly feel…

I liked this. So bloody much. And the tears suddenly running down my face were ridiculous, just as ridiculous as the laugh coming out of my son’s mouth. My youngest, giggling away in his car seat.