Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DEXTER
Molly is sitting on the edge of the trampoline with her legs making a pyramid so she can look at the tiny, miscoloured skin on her knee. Tiny. As I stroke the small red spot, a strange sense of calm falls over me. A quiet clarity. Nothing else matters but them. Not really. “Does it really hurt?”
She nods. “Yep. Lots.”
I can tell she is fibbing, but I’m enjoying caring for her just as much as she’s enjoying the helicopter dad I’m obviously going to become. “Band-aid?”
“Tyler’s got Frozen band-aids.” Her big eyes dart from her red skin to me. “They are in the kitchen. Bottom draw with the door-stops and batteries.”
I should know this…
She shouldn’t feel the need to tell me, though… I didn’t know. And she knew that.
I have been here for three weeks now, but I haven’t moved into their world. I’ve merely moved around it. Focused on Tyler… On all the things wrong with him… I have— had an opportunity to set things straight, to make amends, but— Vallie’s right. I am too late. Too fucking late.
“You seen Ty?” Donnie asks, approaching from the porch, a cigarette hanging from his lower lip, the ember chewing the paper just short of his mouth.
I shake my head, focused on Molly. “No.”
“ Hm .” With that, Donnie wanders around the edge of the house, disappearing from view.
“Molly.” I clear my throat, wondering how to approach this conversation with a child. “Does Tyler buy the band-aids?”
“Tyler Baby does all the things.”
I tilt my head, dubious. “All the things?”
“Yes.” She uses her fingers to count. “He does the laundry, the book reading, the nightmare squashing, the arts and crafts, the dishes, the mummy soothing, and he is my teacher. Music. And. Math.” Her eyes sparkle with pride, thinking about him. Fucking pride… Awe, even. Like I might have looked at Dad once when he was alive. “He is real smart. Did you know that? Real smart. And silly. He is both. Don’t you know him?”
Fuck.
He is both.
“I did.” The backs of my eyes sting. “I want to know more than I do.”
“So…” She clicks her tongue, waiting. “Tyler would have the band-aid on my knee by now.”
“Right.” I try not to laugh and tear up at the same time. This little girl is incredible. “I best go get it then.”
As I turn to leave, she says, “Elsa.”
I look back at her. “What?”
A moment of exasperation crosses her gaze. Christ. I had no idea kids could look so frustrated, so patronising and cute simultaneously. “Elsa. She is the blonde one. Look”—she lifts her hands, using them to speak, all sass and confidence. “I get it. We can watch Frozen tonight. I don’t mind seeing it again. It’s really entowering .”
“Empowering?”
“Yep,” she says, nodding her little chin adamant, dead serious. “It. Changed. My life .”
I burst out a laugh but cough to mask it from her serious gaze. She doesn’t think this is funny.
“Right. Well.” I am fucking dumbfounded. This girl has literally rendered me a blundering idiot. “I look forward to being empowered by Elsa from Frozen .”
She lifts an eyebrow at me. “You’re weird.”
Me? And the comparison is what? I touch my chest, shock dropping my mouth to the floor. “I’m the weird one? In this house?”
She measures me up. “Definitely.”
“Well then?—”
“Have you seen Tyler?” Vallie’s voice soars across to us. My ears prick at the repeated question; this time, the four words crawl into my chest.
“No.” I glance from Molly to Vallie, seeing her brows weaved above sharp, concerned eyes.
“I don’t remember the last time I saw him,” she adds, flustered. “Do you remember the last time you saw him?”
No. I don’t. Before I can react, Vallie rushes around the side of the house, calling his name. “Tyler? Tyler Baby?”
Dread sinks in.
My jaw clenches. Scenarios explode in my mind like a fucked-up pi?ata—Tyler’s hurt. He heard, or saw the papers or the email? Sliced his wrists, ran away— Fuck. Get the images out.
Fuck.
Then I look at Molly, who seems to be watching my eyes darting to my internal torture. She is far too perceptive for her own good. Too clever.
“I can get my own band-aid,” she offers softly.
My mouth goes dry, guilt and discomfort strangling me. “Let’s set you up in front of the TV, and I’ll join your mum and dad playing Hide and Seek with Tyler, yeah?”
She nods stiffly, not at all buying it.
I scoop her to my hip, her little socks catching my attention—frilly at the top with sparkly pink musical notes.
The piano room.
I’ll search there first…