Chapter 19
Aiden
Logan is officially the cutest living thing to have ever graced the planet, and spending time with him makes me realise how much I’d like to have kids of my own someday. Their family unit, though completely nonstandard, causes my insides to ache in a way that’s both envious and hopeful.
We’ve spent the morning opening gifts, eating Celebrations, and playing Astro Bot on Logan’s brand new PlayStation, which turns out to be the most enjoyable game I’ve played since Luigi’s Mansion.
Brandon popped by with his kids, Hayden and Albie, and I understand what Logan meant when he’d said “bro has the biggest muscles he’s ever seen.
” Brandon must be some kind of bodybuilder.
Even in pro-rugby, I’ve never witnessed a neck that colossal before.
The guy could probably drink peanut butter through a straw.
“Don’t give me that look,” Jody says to her ex while we’re all making snacks in the kitchen together after Brandon and his kids have left. “Not when you’ve brought your boyfriend a hundred miles to meet your family.”
“Like I told your child yesterday,” Eggo says, and Jody smirks. “We are not boyfriends. We are simply boys who are friends.”
“Mmhmm, and those are simply friendship kisses and friendship hand shandies you give each other,” she says.
It takes me a moment to realise what she means by hand shandies. Eggo doesn’t deny any of it.
Jody must see the panic in my face because she adds, “I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise. Not even Bran.”
But Eggo continues to stare at her. They’re both smiling, and I feel like such an outsider. They have all this history, and they have a kid together. And here I am, an intruder in their little family celebration.
One time a German Shepherd got onto the pitch at the training grounds. She had no idea what was going on, but she saw a ball, and was desperate to be a part of all the fun.
I’m the dog in this situation.
My phone buzzes. I take it out of my pocket and see a text message from my mum. I texted her last night before I crashed out, only so she wouldn’t have the excuse that I didn’t bother to send anything.
A slogan my brother, sister, and I came up with when we were younger was, “No ammo.”
Do not give her anything to complain about. Not one millimetre of leverage.
But where there’s a will, there’s a way. She will always find that crack in your armour to dig her fingernails into.
I glimpse the words “why can’t you just” and “son” and “Xmas” in the message and swipe it away without expanding it further.
A few moments later, my phone rings. I tuck it back into my pocket whilst it’s still vibrating.
If I let it ring out to voicemail, at least I can pretend the reason I didn’t pick up was because of something beyond my control.
I could say I was driving, or the service was patchy.
“You can take that. Don’t let us stop you,” Jody says, obviously mistaking my decision not to answer as awkward politeness.
“Is that your mum?” Eggo asks.
I nod.
Jody seems to hear all the unsaid words. “Right, who wants a pint of Bailey’s? I know I do.” She carries the snacks—brie and cranberry mini-puffs—into the living room. Trekkie follows the food, leaving Eggo and me alone in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry your folks are shitheads.” He says it so matter-of-factly that it startles a laugh out of me. “I know my family isn’t perfect by any means, but I feel like I’m flaunting them in front of you.”
“You’re not,” I say. “This is probably the best Christmas I’ve had since . . . maybe forever.” I’m really, really trying not to cry.
It doesn’t help that Eggo’s eyes suddenly look watery and rimmed with red. He takes a step closer and slides his fingers through my hair. “Hey, princess, can I kiss you?” he whispers.
“Here? Now?”
“Yeah, is that okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply, my eyes fluttering closed as Eggo closes the gap between us and brushes his lips to mine.
When we make our way back into the living room, Jody looks up from the video game, smiling. There’s no doubt in my mind she knows what went down in that kitchen. In fact, I’m pretty sure she engineered it like that. She might be the smartest person I know irl.
We eat our mini-puffs while Jody tells me stories of adolescent Eggo. They met at school when they were fourteen, were on-and-off boyfriend and girlfriend for a few years, until age eighteen when they found out she was pregnant with Logan.
“We’d already ‘officially’ broken up at this point, but when I told Finn I was expecting, he cried and tried to get back together with me,” she says.
Eggo shrugs. “I’d always wanted to be a dad. Literally a dream come true, but then a couple of years ago I got offered a transfer to Bath and well, it’s a premiership team and the money was good, and it won’t be forever, so we just worked out how often I could come down to see Logan.”
It won’t be forever. The words float around, not inside my head, but in my gut. They ache. I wonder how long he’ll let himself stay with the Cents before the call to be closer to his son gets too overwhelming.
Not that I want him to be in a city a hundred miles away from his only child. Not that I want him where I am. At some point my sports visa will expire and I’ll have to fuck off back to Australia again.
I excuse myself to the bathroom. Whilst I’m there I send a text message to Georgia.
Merry Christmas. Hope you have a great day.
That’s it. That’s all my message says. Her reply hits my phone as I’m washing my hands.
Thank you, Aiden. You too xx
I was wondering if after Christmas you’d like to go for a drink with me. Just me, not a double date like last time.
I’d love that.
I walk through to the lounge and don’t mention Georgia to either adult, though a sense of guilt sits heavily in my stomach.
But why should I feel guilty for chasing my own happiness?
Later, Eggo and I take Logan and his new Spider-Man scooter to the skate park near Eggo’s parents’ house. It’s surprisingly busy for the middle of Christmas Day. A few people have Santa hats pulled down over their helmets, and someone is playing Christmas music from a portable speaker.
“You’re a fantastic dad,” I say, as Eggo and I find an empty section of low wall to sit on.
He raises his brows at me. “Thanks. I just wish I was around more, you know?”
I nod, even though my own father spent every second keeping as far away from my siblings and me as possible. “Do you think you’ll move back here at some point?”
“Eventually, but not yet. Maybe if Cornwall joins the premiership. Who knows? What about you? Where will you go?” He shoots Logan, who appears to have made a friend already, a thumbs-up to let him know he’s watching him. “That’s Reuben. The strangler.”
“I love how readily forgiving kids are. Yeah, you strangled me, but I don’t know anyone else at the park, so shall we be friends again?” I say.
Eggo laughs.
“Honestly, I’m going to extend my visa for as long as possible. And when that finally expires and they won’t let me stay here any more, I’ll pack a few bags and run away to live in the woods with Trekkie until I die of hypothermia or like, eating the wrong mushrooms or something.”
He turns his whole body towards me and his eyes search my face, landing upon my lips, and for one terrifying, exhilarating second I think he might kiss me, right here in the middle of the skate park in front of dozens of families. “Do you want to talk about your folks?”
I simply stare at him and swallow the painful lump at the back of my throat.
“You don’t have to. I’m not holding a gun to your head or anything. I just thought that maybe you don’t get the opportunity to get shit off your chest, and if you ever needed to release that . . . pain, I’m here. And I’m a great listener. If you don’t believe me, ask Jo. She’ll vouch for me.”
I stare a little longer, straighten the hairs on my mo, and refocus my attention on the kids trying out their new toys. But I’m not seeing any of it.
“My dad left when I was about eight. My mum, she was . . . is . . .” I steady my breath.
Eggo doesn’t interrupt. “I’d never heard of the term gaslighting until I came to England, but that’s what she’s like.
She’s a narcissist who’ll find a way to make any and every situation about her, and if she’s not at the centre of attention, well .
. . somebody’s got to pay the price. My dad legged it because he’d just had enough of her bullshit, and in some ways I can’t blame him, but he left us with her.
” I turn to Eggo and realise how close to tears I am.
I’ve never told anybody about this. No one outside my family itself knows.
“Was she violent?” he asks, almost in a whisper.
“Sometimes.”
I don’t go into detail about the time she smashed my head into the car window because I’d left my homework on the kitchen counter, or the time she slapped my sister for accidentally breaking a dinner plate.
I don’t think he’d believe me. It sounds like such an extreme reaction to something so trivial.
At the time, we just accepted it all as part of normal, everyday life.
“It was more about the constant criticisms, and belittling, and then making us believe we were imagining it all, or that we were blowing it all out of proportion. And we genuinely used to think this too. She was so clever. Even now, when I think about some of the stuff she used to do, I still wonder if I was just being overly dramatic. Like, okay, one time she told me I could go to the shopping arcade with my friend, so I went, but it was her birthday, and when I got home, she lost it. Told me she couldn’t believe I would choose him over her.
I was thirteen, but I think I should have realised it was important to her.
It was stuff like that, all the time. Always trying to guess what her reaction would be beforehand. ”
I suck in a huge lungful of air and puff it all out slowly.