69
Chris
Anice, relaxed Friday evening in with Evan and Ryan. My son doesn’t seem to want to go out with his friends much anymore, and even though I should be happy about that, I’m starting to worry. I don’t want him to dedicate his life to just keeping his mother company.
Ryan’s been here for two weeks, since the day I came home from the hospital. He takes Evan to school in the mornings, then drops me off at the café – where we’re still trying to sort out the wreckage – and then he goes off to training. In the evenings, he comes back here to be with us. Dinners, TV, and steamy nights under the covers.
I’m getting used to all of this: to his presence, to this new ‘normal’ that I’m starting to like more and more every day. I know that it could all disappear at any moment, but I can’t bring up that topic with him. I don’t want my desperation to have all the answers to scare him off so early.
We sit down on the sofa, ready to put on yet another film, when someone knocks at the door. Evan presses pause, then gets up and goes to answer.
“Hey, family!” I feel Ryan stiffen immediately next to me at the sound of Martin’s voice. “I thought I’d swing by to say hello,” Martin walks in and stops a few paces from the sofa. “Oh. I see we’re still here.”
Ryan jumps up and stands in front of him.
“Where did you think I’d go?”
“I’m just surprised you’re still here.”
“Okay,” I say, getting up too. “Let’s just clear something up here.”
“There’s nothing to clear up,” Ryan says, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “It’s all perfectly clear.”
Jesus Christ.
Martin looks at us for a few seconds, then turns to me. “He knows, right?”
“Of course. But it doesn’t look like that’s reassured him enough.”
“What do you want, then?” he asks Ryan, “A signed contract?”
“I’d rather you didn’t keep turning up.”
“Does me being here make you uncomfortable?”
“To be honest, yes.”
“Well, that’s your problemMr Muscle.”
“What the fuck did you call me?” Ryan says, letting go of my shoulders to approach Martin threateningly.
“Mum, please do something!” Evan cries, grabbing my attention.
I sigh, deciding to intervene. I didn’t plan to get involved – I quite liked them fighting over me like that – but it’s not the nicest situation, especially for Evan.
“Come on, guys,” I say, stepping between them and placing my hands on their chests. “Let’s try and just clear up your…roles. Martin is Evan’s father. He comes round a lot – maybe too much, okay – but he’s part of the furniture. And that’s not going to change. And Ryan is…well, he’s…”
“The one you’re fucking,” Martin suggests.
“Martin! Not in front of Evan!”
“What, like I haven’t heard you?”
Oh God.
“Maybe it’s best if I speak. Dad, you’re here way too much, and I’d prefer if you stayed away a little bit more. At least for Mum, now that she and Ryan are, let’s say, seeing each other.”
“Seeing each other?” Martin asks, one eyebrow shooting up. “He basically lives here.”
