Page 38 of The Perfect Son

I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of Jamie’s bedsheets. Underneath the Spring Fresh fabric conditioner is Jamie’s smell. Something soft I can’t quite hold on to, but I breathe it in anyway and close my eyes.

—

The phone is ringing again. There’s a wet patch on Jamie’s pillow from my tears. I must’ve fallen asleep. Paper rustles when I move—the loan rejection letter is still in my hand. It hits me all at once—a baseball-bat wallop—pounding the events of the past six weeks back into my consciousness. Everything—the plane crash, the funeral, Shelley coming, Ian’s money, the voice of the man on the phone—hits with a thwack and I’m wide awake.

The answerphone clicks on by the time I’m in the hall.

“Hey, Tess,” Shelley’s voice says as I reach your study. I quicken my movements and reach the phone before the next words are out of her mouth.

“Shelley, I’m here,” I reply, pressing the phone to my ear and sinking back to the worn green carpet in the exact spot where I sat last night.

“Hey,” she says again. “How are you?”

I pause for a second and think of the fear I felt last night, in this very spot, in fact. I want to tell Shelley, but it seems so unreal now, and I’m not sure what it all means.

“OK,” I say in the end. “I’m not sleeping great, but I’m feeling clearer. Less fog, if that makes sense?”

“That’s great, Tess. I’m so pleased. Have you thought any more about signing over the executor role to your brother-in-law? Might be a weight off your shoulders if you do.”

I find myself nodding, although there is still something off about the whole thing that I can’t put my finger on. “Maybe.”

“Good. One less thing for you to worry about. Hey, did I tell you at the weekend that I’m planning to redecorate our living room?”

“No.”

“Have you got your mobile there? I’ll send you some colors. I need help deciding.”

I hurry down the stairs with the phone in my hand and find my mobile. I move to the nook where I can get one bar of signal and sit on the floor.

Shelley and I talk for ages about mundane things—cleaning and decorating. I don’t have the first clue about color schemes but I like that she asked. I like that she called.

“What are your plans for the weekend?” Shelley asks after we decide on Royal Berry—a deep reddish purple—and Frosted Steel—a light gray.

“I don’t know.” After what happened with Jamie and my suggestion of going to the indoor playground this week, I haven’t thought about the weekend. Maybe the cinema.

“I’m free on Saturday. I could swing by after my swim and hang out for a bit.”

“That would be great. If you’re sure you’ve not got anything better to do?”

“Don’t be daft. I want to see you.”

We say our good-byes and when I hang up I feel so much better. The notebook is still open on the kitchen table. I close the cover and tuck it back beside the microwave. I don’t want to think about the call anymore. The rain has stopped and it’s time to get Jamie from school.

—

Jamie is quiet on the walk home. I gnaw at the skin on my bottom lip so I don’t scream at him to talk to me, to tell me he is OK.

“Is there anything you want to do this weekend?” I ask.

He shrugs a response.

“Shelley’s coming over on Saturday. I thought we could go for a walk along the river. What do you think?”

Jamie’s face lights up and there’s a bounce to his step. “Yessssss.”

When he looks up at me his smile stings like the brightest sunlight in my eyes. I push the feeling away before it can take hold. It’s good that Jamie has a friend in Shelley, someone he can talk to when he doesn’t want to talk to me.

I’ll bake a cake tomorrow,I decide. Not fruitcake, that was your favorite, but a lemon drizzle. Something easy.