“Let’s go to the pasta aisle.” I push the trolley towards the desired aisle. As I pass the shelves, I pick up a packet of White Chocolate Digestive and a packet of Dark Chocolate.
“Uncle Seth,” Mason calls out immediately.
“Yes?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“The caramels, of course!” I smack my head with my hand before picking up a packet of Chocolate Caramel Digestives.
My niblings have clear ideas, especially when it comes to food. Emily likes white chocolate biscuits. She says they are the sweetest; Logan likes dark chocolate ones. He says they help him concentrate, and Mason likes caramel biscuits because he says they are the highest in calories and give him the energy he needs.
I love that they are like that, and I admire them. I don’t know if I could still stand after such a tragedy like they do. The tragedy has hit me hard, too, but I have them to give me strength.
They only have me: a complete disaster of a man.
“Uncle Seth?” Logan calls out to me.
“Yes, darling?”
“The penne are not there.”
“Oh, hell. I wanted to make my famous baked pasta.” I rest my hands on my hips and look at the shelf. “How about macaroni?”
“Let’s say we are hungry,” Emily replies for all.
“You are right. Let’s get a move on.” I take two packs of macaroni and shove them into the trolley. “What’s still missing?”
“Just the mo… mozza… re… mozzarella.”
“Let’s rush to the fridges and then straight home. I’m starving, too.”
* * *
AT HOME, LATER, Logan hands me some mozzarella to add to the pasta. He likes to be in the kitchen to help; he loves science. Everything is an experiment, a reaction for him, and I let him try all the experiments he wants, as long as they don’t involve flames or toxic substances.
I put the casserole in the oven and then look at the clock. “Twenty minutes, and it will be ready. Would you mind helping me with the table?” I ask Logan. Mason is busy helping Emily with her homework. “I’m a bit short on time tonight.”
“Don’t tell me you’re working tonight too!” Emily says from the living room, her voice disappointed and sad.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling guilty as usual. “I can’t turn down another shift. Mr Yang will stay here with you.”
“It doesn’t matter. Mr Yang is OK,” Mason says immediately.
“Weren’t you looking for another job?” Logan asks as he puts the place settings on the table.
“I’m trying, but it’s not easy.”
“Because of your record?” Logan asks.
“Eh, but let’s not tell people, shall we? Dirty laundry is washed in the family.”
Emily giggles.
The kids know everything about me. I have no secrets from them. Well, maybe one at the moment, but I plan to tell them the truth in the next few hours or days.
I found it difficult to keep my past a secret from a nosy brother like Mark, who wouldn’t ignore it and was inclined to help others.
Without realising it, I pull up my nose.
