‘He thinks she’s someone else, though,’ Mum adds.
My dad sits there for a moment, slightly confused.
‘Like an alter ego? Is that why you’re wearing the costume?’
‘He doesn’t think I’m Batman, if that’s what you mean.’
Mum can’t stop giggling.
‘It’s just he doesn’t know I’m related to Sonny or anything about the family business. He thinks I’m in catering, it’s a bit of a mess.’
‘He thinks you’re in catering. But your cooking is awful? Have you cooked for him? He’d surely find out that way.’
It’s Mum’s turn to hit Dad now. ‘Don’t be mean, it’s just a case of mistaken identity. Did you manage to have a moment to clear it up?’ Mum asks. I shake my head. ‘So what does he think about us?’
‘He thinks you’re both retired. You do charity work and volunteer. This is not a lie.’
‘But retired from what?’ Mum asks.
‘You used to own a shop, also not a lie.’
Dad sits there, looking puzzled. I guess it’s because he’s trying to work out why I’m keeping this pretence up.
‘Well, as long as you’re happy. Maybe it will sort itself in the end?’ he says.
There is doubt in his tones. Since Mike, he has become protective of me, a constant fatherly wing hovering over me, hoping I’ll never get hurt like that again. It pained him to see me when I first got cruelly dumped, to see me crawl back to their home and just survive for days off air and little sleep. On the third day, I said I thought I might be hungry, I fancied a biscuit and Dad went to the supermarket and bought one of everything – party rings, giant cookies, even those lemon puff biscuits that nobody really likes. He fanned them all out on a tray.Are we having a party?I said through my laughter.No. But it’s worth it to see a smile on your face.
‘Hello, hi, sorry… there’s no door, only a curtain, so I didn’t know how to knock…’
Cameron. He stands there adjusting his sheriff hat.
My dad takes a glance over the costume. There are strong beige and taupe notes going on.
‘Dad, this is Cameron. Cameron, this is my dad…’
‘Fabio,’ my dad says, sitting up in bed.
Mum cocks her head to the side as he says that. Thank you for playing along, Dad, but of all the bloody names to choose.
‘Hi, it’s good to meet you. Just sorry about the outfit. This is not usually me. That said…’ he continues, giving my mum back her keys, ‘…when I was moving your car, I think this outfit got you out of a fine.’
Mum beams at him, her eyes glancing to the plastic bag in his hands.
‘Oh… And there was a shop by the entrance so I just did a dash and grab. That sounds like I stole it all, I didn’t.’
‘Well, you are a sheriff,’ Mum says.
‘Yes, howdy,’ he replies, making his hand like a gun.
I chuckle because it’s insanely cute, but Mum bites her lip to hold in the giggles as Cameron goes a little beetroot at how awkward this first interaction with my parents is going. It could be worse; I told his dad he was talking out of his backside the first time I met him.
‘Well, I will judge you now by what’s in that bag,’ my dad says coolly. ‘Come at me with what you have, Cameron.’
Cameron opens the bag gingerly. ‘Well, I guess I just thought, go safe and KitKats all round, right? No Snickers as you may be allergic to nuts and nothing chewy like Skittles that could get stuck in your teeth. So I went with the light snack option. Have a break, have a KitKat and all that. I also got some juice and water and fizzy stuff. Crisps, I went plain because I find flavours really divide a room. And I’m rambling…’
‘You are, but it’s bloody hysterical,’ replies Dad. ‘I will take a KitKat. I bloody love a KitKat. And maybe some juice.’
Cameron digs around in the bag and hands it over.
