My father’s face, usually so hard and held, is as open as Tommy’s. Sunshine to tears in an instant.
‘What about that nice man, David?’
Tommy’s head moves side to side so fast it’s as if his neck might snap.
‘Ok, ok.’ My father looks at me. ‘What happened?’
‘You know the way you were always telling me not to trust my instinct around men?’
‘Sonya, this was different. He’s solid, good for you.’
‘Dad, you said yourself often enough that appearances can be deceptive.’
‘The rehab trusted him.’
‘Nuns really don’t have much experience of that kind of man.’ I try on a laugh.
He looks at me and then away out the window again. I wonder if he’s remembering things he’s tried so hard to forget. I see it now: how Lara has been a part of that forgetting. No wonder everything about me irritates and inflames him.
‘Dad?’
He looks at me, warily.
‘Nothing.’
My father turns to my son, relieved. ‘Young man, I’m honoured you came to see me on your big day.’
Tommy is basking, his face angled towards him like the sun.
‘Tommy, have you ever been to the zoo?’
‘No, Gandad.’
‘Would you like to go when I get better?’
‘Are there woos there?’
‘Roos,’ I say. ‘Kangaroos.’
‘You know, sonny, I think that might be the only animal they don’t have there.’
‘No matter, Mr T. We have our pictures at home and one day we’ll get on an airplane and fly to the land of the roos.’ （I don’t feel the need to mention man-made infernos and burnt-out habitats.） ‘Sonya.’ Don’t go filling the boy’s head with nonsense. I am grateful to him that he doesn’t say it.
‘Dad? Do you remember bringing me to a fireworks display? A really spectacular one?’
‘Yes, Sonya. Yes, I do, not long after your mother died.’
‘It was really beautiful.’
‘You always liked bright, shining things, Sonya.’
‘Yes, Dad. I guess I always did.’
I look at my son, who’s still staring, enraptured, at his grandad.
‘I think I’ll go for a walk, leave you two to catch up, ok?’
My father looks at me, nods. Tommy doesn’t take his eyes off his grandad.
I lean in to kiss Tommy on the top of his head. ‘I won’t be long, darling.’
I leave them then, noting on my way out how both their smiles have the same crooked aspect. I listen, for a moment, outside the door.
‘Gandad?’
‘Yes, son?’
‘As soon as you are better, will you come to our homey own?’
‘I think that can be arranged. It seems your mother is going to need a new babysitter.’
‘And for Herbie and Marmie too.’
His voice contains a suppressed sigh. ‘Yes, the dog and cat too…’
In the corridor I lean my forehead against the cool wall, then turn around and see the new delicate Lara, almost suspended in the air, waiting on the other side, back to the wall. I walk towards her. ‘Would you mind leaving Tommy and his grandfather alone for a while?’
‘He’s been very sick.’
‘Even more of a reason.’
I don’t trust myself not to say the wrong thing, even though my mind is clear, free from static, space between my thoughts, which aren’t chasing, circling, contradicting. I know what I’d like to say.
‘Sonya?’
Lara’s voice trailing me.
I turn. ‘Yes?’
‘He’ll come through this; he’s going to be ok.’
The two of us, grown women, look at each other as if seeing each other for the first time.
‘And Sonya… ?’
Lara hesitates, plucks some fluff off her top, pulls her sleeves down. She looks up at me as if she is about to continue, then looks back down and shakes her head in silence. At last: a shared understanding.
48
‘What do you see out there, Tommy?’
‘The colour of happy.’
‘And what else? Real things?’
‘Sky and fluffy clouds and hard clouds and marshmallow mountains of clouds.’
Such an imaginative little thing. I start to sing, contained and clear, ‘Happy birthday, dear Tommy…’ He pushes his face against the windowpane, squashing his nose and cheeks. He doesn’t stick his hands in his ears, which makes a bubble of happiness swell inside me.