Nora, 3
Who is my dad?
Nora asks questions all the time, and she asks this one more than most. It is not one she has given much thought to before now, because she was only dimly aware of the concept of dads and the fact that she doesn’t have one.
But since Finn’s birthday party, she has started to notice that everyone seems to have a dad but her.
The other kids at the playground have dads as often as mums. There are dads at cafés, dads on film sets, dads on TV when Nora is allowed her screen time.
‘That’s my dad,’ Finn had said at his party, pointing. ‘Who’s your dad?’
Finn has a dad. Even Finn’s dad has a dad.
So where is Nora’s dad? Nora had looked around, thumbs twiddling, cheeks inflated with air, because she didn’t know the correct answer.
She wanted to ask her mum, but then, she didn’t know where her mum was, either.
She began to panic. Then, a man appeared, a familiar man, the man who’d been speaking to her mum moments before.
He sat in a tiny chair, made a funny face.
Seb. Maybe Seb is her dad?
Nora can talk about things that happened before she even learned to speak. She drew in the sand on a beach once, and though the waves washed it away, a trace remained. She knows Seb. Not as a person, but as a presence, and a name that comes up often. A name always attached to her mother’s.
‘Seb and Clara’s old flat,’ grown-ups say.
Or, ‘When Clara and Seb were in France.’
Seb is big and has a beard and gave her pizza, though the episode is blurry in her mind. Clearer is this: Seb sitting next to her at Finn’s birthday.
‘Your mum is brave to come here,’ Seb had said. ‘But your mum has always known what she’s doing.’
Nora hadn’t really understood, so she’d kept her eyes in her lap.
‘How is she?’ Seb had added. ‘Your mum.’
Nora had understood this. ‘She’s sad.’
Seb was quiet for a bit. ‘How can we make her happy?’