8. I want to hate him
CHAPTER 8
I want to hate him
I wake up feeling different, almost brand new. My hand shoots out for my son, but someone brings it down. I peel one eye open, then the second. Amelia sticks out her tongue, her fingers stretching the corners of her lips. She is a clown, and I love her.
“He’s awake. He’s fine,” she says. My body relaxes. I’m not sure when she got into bed with me, but I push closer to her for a brief hug. I like to think of her as the sister I never had, but she’s more than that. She opens her palms. “I even listened to his heartbeat. Ten times.”
Linking our fingers, I tell her, “Okay, I believe you.”
“Thank you, Mama Mace.”
“Mama Mace?”
A yawn escapes me as I stretch my arms, and my head falls back to the pillow. I squint at the window behind my bed. The curtains are drawn, making it harder to tell what time of the day it is.
“Yes. It’s cute, yeah?” she says. Not at all. Mama Mace sounds so old. I’m not old. Rounding to my side of the bed, she pulls me to my feet. “I think it’s cute, Cathie. Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” I admit. Too well I almost want to return to bed. But I haven’t seen my son. I don’t know where my phone is or I would check to know how much sleep I got. We start for the door. She opens it, but I place a hand on the doorframe to stop her from leaving. “Where is he?”
“With your dad.”
“Dad?”
Amelia nods. “Yep. He’s downstairs.”
Her smile calms me. Mace is in safe hands. They will never do anything to jeopardise his health, but sometimes, I worry. Kids can change your life. I know that because Mace changed mine.
“Thank you,” I tell her. My belly rumbles, and my hand goes over it. It’s not as flat as before Mace, but it’s close. Amelia loops her arm through mine to drag me outside, but I refuse to move. “Wait. Is it okay if I freshen up first? Can you watch him for a few more minutes?”
Amelia steps back to give me a once-over. Her eyes fill to the brim with the love she has for me, and warmth blooms in my chest. Amelia has the rest of my heart that’s not with Mace. Dad too. Even Taylor and Rose. I have the best tribe, though I forget that sometimes.
“You don’t have to ask for permission, Cathie. It’s our house. You can do whatever you want. And he’s our baby. And yes, Amelia will watch Mace while Mama Mace goes to freshen up.” Not again with the name. But a smile curls my lips. “Go. Hurry, Mama Mace.”
Long after Amelia’s gone, I’m still grinning. I waltz into the bathroom and dance in front of the mirror. My eyelids don’t feel like they are a second away from permanently closing, and my head doesn’t pound as much. Now that I’ve had a taste of good sleep, I want more. I take more time than usual in the bathroom. Refreshed, happy, and energised, I head downstairs.
Laughter welcomes me to the living room. I recognise our guests by their hair colours and styles. I stop behind the couch, but none of them notice me. Dad spreads out his arms as he explains something to Rose and Taylor. They giggle like little girls, hands going over their mouths to smother their laughter. My eyes roam the living room for him. I don’t see Mace.
“Where’s Mace?” I ask.
Taylor jerks. Rose frowns.
“Here,” Dad offers. Amelia walks into the room holding a tray she drops on the table. Taylor probably came with biscuits again. I hurry to Dad and squat in front of him. The pressure in my chest melts at the sight before me. Mace is tucked inside his grandpa’s shirt. I should do this, too. This way, he will always be closer to my heart. “Here. He’s warm and safe, Cathie.”
My eyes smart with tears of gratitude. “He is.” Because he’s enjoying body contact with his grandpa. I drag the zip of Dad’s cardigan up to Mace’s spine and leave only his head visible. My fingers creep into his mass of blonde curls, and my heart flutters. “Mace. Mama is here.”
Mace doesn’t even look at his mama. Unfair. Pushing a hand into Dad’s shirt to feel my son earns me a frown from my father, but Mace’s tiny fingers curl around mine. My gaze darts to his face, but his eyes remain closed. My baby.
“When did you get here?” I ask as I take a seat beside Dad. The urge to listen to Mace’s heartbeat claws at my chest, so I bury my fingers into the soft material of the couch. Amelia drags the coffee table closer to me. I grab a biscuit from the plate and nudge Dad. “When?”
“This morning,” Dad replies. I look at the girls. Taylor is blonde now. Rose is keeping her hair in a bang. They nod in agreement with Dad. They shouldn’t be here. They are students. And wait, it’s morning already? “We didn’t want to wake you. Amelia said you were asleep.”
My eyes search for the guilty party, and Amelia shrugs. She’s on the same couch as Rose and Taylor, with her iPad on her lap. Trust her to bring office work to the house. We may be doing better with an extra four hundred thousand downloads, but she’s not taking a break.
“I needed the rest. Thanks,” I reply. “Has Mace eaten?”
“I fed him,” Rose and Taylor chorus. Amelia laughs.
“I fed him,” Rose says. “Then Taylor did.”
The living room grows quiet except for the song playing in the background from the TV. It’s a kid-friendly channel. I finish up my biscuit, then send it down with a glass of orange juice.
They watch me. Dad’s not looking directly, but he turns ever so slightly a few times to stare at his daughter. Taylor and Rose are more obvious. Amelia is typing on her iPad, but the few times she looks up, our eyes meet. I should ask about the song from yesterday. But I won’t.
Sparing the room a glance, I ask the obvious question. “I’m happy to see you, but…” Rose and Taylor sit up. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you two be in school or something?”
“We think you should take a break today,” Rose says.
“We will take care of Mace,” Taylor replies.
“So…this is an intervention?” I ask the room, but my question is directed at Amelia.
“I… well, I figured if I couldn’t get to you,” Amelia starts. Her voice trembles. I fixate her with my meanest frown. She is so nosy, but she’s the reason I’m not drowning silently. Rose and Taylor clasp their hands like a child asking their mother to break the rules for them. Taylor no longer wears glasses. I miss the shy version of her. “They might be lucky. Are you upset?”
Amelia drops her iPad on the armrest while awaiting my reply. Dad pulls me in for a side hug, and I suck in a breath to calm myself. They care about me. They left their studies and work.
“No,” I say. Dad’s body sags against mine. “I think you are right. Maybe I need a break.”
“Yeah,” the girls chorus. It’s almost like we are back to our secondary school’s dining.
Dad looks down at me as if to confirm, and I hug him, careful not to rouse a sleeping Mace. Babies are so lucky. They eat, sleep, poo, and pee, then cry.
“I’ll take a walk,” I say for Amelia’s sake. Taylor nods. With her new hair colour, she looks more like Ashley. Amelia’s elder sister is the only person who still openly supports Mending Hearts. I sink to my knees before Dad. “Can I listen before I go? Just this once? Please?”
Mace’s heart beats in rhythm with mine. My head raises right in time to catch Dad’s soft smile. I plant a sloppy kiss on Dad’s temple, and my fingers move to smooth the grey hairs curling above his ear. Unexpected tears prick my eyes. Happy tears. Sad tears. I don’t know.
The girls engulf me in a group hug. God, I missed them. A weekly video call is not enough.
“I don’t even know what the time is,” I say when we break from the hug.
Amelia peeks at her iPad. “Time for you to get out of the house. Sod off.” We laugh, and she pats my cheeks. “It’s the perfect time for a walk. You should get some time out for yourself.”
They guide me outside, more like kick me out of the house nicely. The warm air blows through my hair, and I dart a pleading look at the group. Do I really need to take a walk?
I pat my pocket. “My phone’s not here.”
Rose rushes inside, screaming, “I’ll get it.”
Amelia pinches my cheeks. “Cheer up. Why don’t you go have some scones?”
“And some tea,” Dad adds.
“I can have scones in the house,” I answer.
“No,” Amelia says.
I stare her down into submission. Well, I try to, but she doesn’t back down. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Rose returns with my phone and drops it on my palm. They walk me to the short, fenced gate and nudge me onto the street. I glare at them, but they return it with big smiles and cheerful waves. It’s four or five people, if you count Mace, against me. It’s not like I’ve been cooped up indoors for that long. Maybe a month or two. But I do step out. I was in Amelia’s room, even the living room. I went to the doctor’s. Oh, that was last month. But what does it matter?
I continue down the street until houses become less familiar. There’s a tea shop at the corner, but I take the turn opposite the teashop. I have no idea where I’m headed, but I keep walking.
It’s my first time outside without Mace. A horn stops me in my tracks. I jump back, and a car hurries past me with its honk blaring in disapproval. I cross to the other side. Kids and their parents race past me. Teenagers rush in the same direction. I realise why when I look up at the sign hanging at the top. I’m at a park. My feet lead me inside. Walking up the cobblestone path, I stop at a deserted area. I drop onto the damp bench and draw my knees to my chest.
The tree branches above me create a shade, and I hug my knees tighter. Up ahead is a stream. An image of him and Mace standing at the edge while throwing rocks into the water assaults my mind. It’s so abrupt, so clear, that the tears rain down my cheeks unannounced.
I hate him. I want to hate him. I wish I hated him.
That image unravels older memories of us. My hands shake as I unlock my phone to do what I have always done. Something no one would suspect unless they caught me. I check their latest album. There’s a song in the Valentine album, their last album, with only Calum’s name. Was he thinking of his ex-girlfriend, Yani, when he released it? Why did they allow him? I hit play. The lyrics float into the air and caress my soul. It’s the song Amelia played.
My eyes close, but all I see is the man I want to hate. The older, mature, and original version of Mace. He laughs. Drags his fingertips across my ear. Calls me his superstar, his cupcake, and his melody. Calls me his home. In this moment of weakness, I allow myself to miss him.