Chapter 42
Martin
I reach a hand towards the bedside table and switch off the alarm with a resigned sigh.
I’ve been sitting in the middle of the bed for a while now, ever since Jamie slipped off the sheets and ran away at dawn like any other arsehole.
I heard him shuffling around the house, the water going in the bathroom, then the rustling of clothes before he slipped out the front door.
He didn’t look back. He probably waited for me to fall asleep so he could leave without having to explain a thing.
I would never have asked him to stay or to come back to me.
I only brought him home because he was sick. It wasn’t to change his mind, though I was half-hoping, God help me. When he looked at me or asked me to read to him in bed, I let myself see what I wanted to see. I’m a fool for that.
I fling the covers off, plant my feet on the floor, and brace myself for work. The hospital, my colleagues, my patients: if anything’s going to drag me back to myself, it’s the routine. It’ll have to, before Jamie pulls me any further into whatever game he’s playing.
I’ve never had any time for games, not even when I was younger.
I’ve no head for them and never should’ve tried, knowing I can’t stand losing.
“Dr Kane? Someone is here to see you.” The nurse at the reception desk points towards the waiting room. I look up, my heart trying to force its way into my throat, and spot my son standing there, slouched against the hallway wall.
I hand the last chart of the day to the nurse and, trying to hide my hopefulness, mentally mock myself for my own stupidity.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Evan asks immediately.
He definitely got all his brains from his mother.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” I say, smoothing over the disappointment in my voice. “What are you doing here?”
“I had no class today.”
“What about training?”
“No training either.”
I study him, wondering if he’s lying.
“I had nothing on. Thought we could grab some dinner.”
I must have hit rock bottom if my son’s taking pity on me.
“Sure, I’m finished for the day. Let’s go home. I’ll cook you something…”
“Nah, let’s go out.”
“You and I having dinner together? In public?”
Evan laughs. “I’ll blend in. No one’ll notice me.”
I shake my head. “Give me two minutes. I’ll get my stuff and then we’ll go.”
“Aren’t you hungry?” Evan asks, finally raising his head from his plate.
“Watching you eat almost makes me lose my appetite.”
“I need fuel.”
“How’s it going with the team? Any other games coming up?”
“Coach said on Sunday he’d let me play in the second half. Fifteen minutes, but I’ll take it.”
“This is only the start. You’ll be in the lineup soon enough.”
“Please, God.” He wipes his mouth. “I hate parking my arse on the bench. It deserves a bit of a showcase.”
I laugh and take a sip of water.
“And you? How are things going?”
“The usual: hospitals, emergencies, and people who think sticking a courgette up their backside is tantric.”
“Really? A courgette?”
“One of the favourites.”
“I would never want to be in your shoes.”
“You get used to everything.”
Evan pauses, then lifts his gaze. “Is he gone?” he asks discreetly.
“He was feeling better. There was no reason to stay.”
“I thought there was.”
I thought so too, but stay silent.
“So… is that it, then?”
I nod, resigned.
“Just another arsehole?”
I can’t help but smile. “Another one for the list.”
“I’m sorry.”
I set my fork down on the plate and turn to face him, studying his expression.
“I shouldn’t have messed with you.”
“You do it all the time. I’m used to it.”
“This time, I shouldn’t have.”
My son is growing up fast and smart.
“Not in front of Mum, especially not in front of Ryan.”
“Don’t worry about it. Ryan always finds some excuse to take the piss out of poor Doctor Dickhead anyway.”
“He’s not that bad. You should actually try getting to know him.”
“I did try, but he—”
“Dad.”
“Alright, I didn’t. Happy now?”
“Does it really bother you that much that he and Mum are together?”
“No, Evan. Absolutely not. If your mother’s happy, and you’re okay, then that means Dickhead Number Two is the right person.”
“I think he is.”
“I’d like to hope so, after the mess you’ve made.”
“I just gave everyone a little push.”
“And a kick in the butt to your father.”
“You deserved it.”
I smile. “True. And I’m sorry.”
Evan shrugs. “I understand why you did it. I understand it now.”
“Now?” I ask, puzzled.
Evan takes a breath and looks at me the way he used to when he’d make a mess as a child and then try to hide the evidence.
“I think I did something.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I said something to Jamie.”
“Define this ‘something’.”
“I should’ve minded my own business.”
“That’s for sure.”
“I just wanted to set the record straight.”
“It’s not your job. I’m the father here.”
“Sometimes even fathers need someone to care for them.”
Okay. I don’t think this conversation is real. I don’t think this is really Evan. Maybe it’s a hologram, a hallucination, or maybe I’m just losing it. Or maybe I’ve already lost it to the wrong person, and everyone knows except me.
“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me. Besides, he’d already made up his mind. I don’t think anything you said would’ve made him run.”
“But you don’t even know what I said.”
“He always knew how it would turn out.”
“You did too, though.”
I give him a tight smile.
“You really like him, huh?” he asks. His eyes are the image of Chris’. They’re soft, but he’s trying not to let the kindness show, in case it hurts me more.
“I think it’s something worse,” I say quietly, the ache finally breaking through. I refuse to pretend, not to him, not to myself. If he learns anything from me, it should be that there’s no shame in loving honestly, even when it tears you to bits.
Evan sighs. “I figured.”
“Now you’re going to tell me I’m the biggest loser that ever lived.”
“You’re the top loser.”
“Oh, that’s great. Thanks.”
“And you’re the best man I’ve ever known or ever will know. And you’re my dad. I wouldn’t change you for anything in the world.”
After all the tears I’ll cry over what my son’s just told me, I reckon this was the last time he ever let me be seen out in public with him.