The Island(7)
“No, look, it’s me, I guess. I was never an aunt, and you know babysitting was never my thing. No one tells you how mean they can be. I love Tom and I’m so grateful for everything he’s done for me, but it’s just…exhausting sometimes.”
“Of course it is. Even with good kids.”
“They’re not terrible and I feel bad for them…their mom—”
“You gotta protect yourself, honey! It’s about you and your life. Don’t end up like the first wife, drunk and dead at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Carolyn! You know that’s bullshit. Judith had MS, balance problems—”
“Just teasing. I’ll swap lives for a bit, even with the shitty kids, if you think he’d go for a feisty redhead.”
“He might.” Heather laughed.
“Speaking of booze, are you still going to that winery tour you talked about?”
“I don’t know. I hope so,” Heather said and yawned again. “I need sleep. Later, babes.”
“Take care, honey.”
“You too. Pet Scotty for me.”
She hung up, went to the bedroom, lay facedown on the bed, and was asleep in seconds.
Owen woke her an hour later by poking her in the neck. “You were supposed to take us for ice cream,” he said.
“What? Where…oh, yeah, sure. Beach, then ice cream. Give me five minutes.”
She went to the bathroom to freshen up and opened the door a little when she heard her name. “Don’t tell Heather but I found a record player downstairs,” Olivia was saying. “A shit-ton of vinyl.”
“Don’t tell Dad either! I’ll bet there’s classical.”
“At least with Dad, it’s kind of age-appropriate. With Heather, it’s such Millennial hipster bullshit. I’m dreading the day when she confesses that she’s a Hufflepuff and asks us what Harry Potter house we’re in,” Olivia said.
“Cringe city!” Owen agreed and both kids laughed.
Heather closed the bathroom door and allowed herself a “Little shits” under her breath. The kids were already accomplished child-soldiers in the war between generations. And really, if either of them had taken the trouble to look at her Spotify playlists, they would have found Porridge Radio, Chance the Rapper, Vampire Weekend, Post Malone, Big Thief, the Shaggs…she sighed and realized she was never going to win this one.
The house was well stocked with sunblock and beach towels. She gave Owen his Ritalin, Olivia her Lexapro, and the three of them went across the road and found themselves on St. Kilda Beach. Owen almost never took off his hoodie but it was so warm, Heather supposed that even he would eventually cave.
“Come on, let me take you both in the ocean,” she said.
“No way,” Owen grunted but Olivia followed her down to the water. Olivia was lean, like her dad, and she had her mother’s blond hair and coloring. She’d been growing fast in the past year. Her mind may have been grieving and shutting down but her body didn’t know that. The body was stretching out. Fourteen, but you would have guessed sixteen or older. Heather and Olivia tried the water but it was surprisingly cold. Owen dipped in a toe and gave them a you-tricked-me scowl.
They found a café selling fish and chips and ice cream at the St. Kilda Sea Baths. Heather was convinced she’d been shortchanged by almost three dollars but she was too timid to kick up a fuss about it. She silently reproached herself as they ate and walked back across the road to the house. She made sure both kids showered and dried off. Olivia had finished all her homework and offered to help Owen with the astronomy worksheet for his science and nature class. Olivia had gotten through the past year OK but poor Owen was having to repeat his science course. Owen refused the assistance and a fight ensued. Heather sat them both down in front of a Godzilla movie on the TV.
She was exhausted. But she knew this was the price she had to pay—to be with Tom, she had to be with the kids. And she wanted to be with Tom. She loved Tom, not despite all his little quirks and weirdnesses, but because of them—the whole package. The smarts, the grief, the fastidiousness, the dad humor, the way he looked at her first thing in the morning, the way he was changing himself for her. When he told her the thing about the wanker, he hadn’t rolled his eyes the way the Tom of three months ago might have. He hadn’t quite conquered all of his condescension, but he was trying to be a better man.
She told the kids she was going for a walk; she went around the block and found a 7-Eleven. The clerk told her a pack of Marlboros cost twenty bucks and after he showed her the price sticker, she believed him. She smoked two cigarettes and listened to Starcrawler’s “Bet My Brains” on the way back home.
The kids were digging the movie.
Tom texted her several ice-breaking “jokes” for his big conference speech with the query Funny or not funny?
She didn’t have the heart to text back Not funny but she made a mental note to tell him to do one joke, maximum.
When Godzilla finished, she opened a closet marked BOARD/BORED GAMES. Both kids moaned but she imposed her will and they decided on Risk. She found the record player and, ignoring the Beatles albums, put on Mozart.
When Tom came home at six p.m. looking beat, Olivia had almost taken over the world. He sat happily on the sofa and watched, enjoying the fact that the kids were doing something delightfully old-school and loving the hell out of it. She brought Tom a glass of wine and as they retreated to the kitchen, Olivia mopped up the last of the resistance in Asia.