by Max Henry
“What?” I shout. “Tell me.”
Sera stops sucking on her sausage long enough to gauge if she should cry in solidarity with my distress or not. Thankfully, her beef is much more fascinating.
The sigh Zeus pushes from his nose takes a full three seconds for him to discharge. Three long seconds where the frustration between us is palpable. “Your dad wants to bail us out and give you the money you need to get Sera in daycare so you can go back to work.”
“And this is a bad thing, how?” I lean forward, narrowly missing slamming my elbow in dinner.
“Because I don’t want him acting like my father,” Zeus bellows.
Apparently, his rage is Sera’s limit. She spits out the small mouthful of sausage she had and immediately morphs into a snot-bubbling monster.
“Just great.” I try to calm her down, tickling behind her ear and playing with her hand, but she’s not having any of it. “I don’t want her earliest memory of us to be arguments, Zeus. I’m not sure about you, but I’m not keen on paying for therapy to sort it out.”
“Who says she’d need therapy for that?” he bites.
I cringe inside, realising the mistake I made. He’s a child of an abusive home. And he never got therapy for it. Without meaning to, I’ve insinuated that there’s something wrong with him because of that.
The only thing that pisses me off about the man I can’t escape my love for is his damn stubborn pride.
“Why does Dad loaning us money have to be him acting like your father?” I ask carefully. “Maybe it’s a friend helping you out when you need it.”
“Yeah, well maybe I’m sick of being everyone’s charity case,” he mutters.
Our debate is left on ice while he takes an intense interest in the rest of his meal. It’s not until I’ve also eaten, and he’s rinsed and stacked everything in the dishwasher, that we pick up where we left off.
“Did you tell Dad what you need to get your business started?” I ask, lifting Sera’s legs while I change her nappy where she lies on the living room floor.
He swivels to lie across our sofa, feet propped up on the arm at one end. “He thinks it’s impossible to do my contracting first.” The resignation in his eyes urges me to crawl over and kiss his troubles away.
I wrestle a wriggling child into her nightwear instead.
“Your old man made a valid point when he said we’d be better getting you earning first so that its income to convince the bank to loan me what I need for plant leases.”
An issue that I’d thought of myself but never had the guts to say to Zeus directly.
“Do you disagree?” Fastening the final snap, I let Sera go so she can crawl to Zeus.
He drops his hand over the side, urging her across the carpet—such a simple gesture, yet one that melts my heart. His love for her is so automatic.
More than I can say for some parents out there—namely, my mother.
“He’s right,” Zeus cedes. “I just need time to come around to it, is all.”
“What’s there to come around to?” I rise to my feet, dirty washing in hand, and take it to the laundry while he answers.
“The realisation that fulfilling your dream means the death of mine.”
“Christ,” I mutter under my breath, shoving the food-stained cotton down in the hamper. And he thinks I’m dramatic. “I don’t think that’s true,” I call back. “Maybe for now, but not permanently.”
He’s watching me intently when I re-enter the room.
“Oh, come on,” I argue. “You honestly believe that if we dedicate the next, say, twelve months to my career, that you’ll never get the chance to kickstart your own?”
“I’m not getting any younger.” He extends his arms over his head, then hooking both hands on the underside of the sofa’s arm.
I’m weak. The only reason why now, in the middle of a disagreement, I’d be eyeing his muscular arms like an unwrapped candy bar. “You’re hardly a senior citizen, either.”
Zeus swivels his head at the husky tone of my words. One cocked eyebrow is all I get in response.
Wind back the clock a few hours, and perhaps I would have had enough stamina to climb him like a damn tree. But at this end of the day, all I want is a hot shower to ease my muscles.
Not to mention the fact he left me high and dry at the supermarket by maxing out our credit card without telling me hardly deems a reward. And these days, that’s kind of all sex feels like—a reward. Congratulations. You made it through another day without fucking up. Here’s an orgasm.
“I’m putting Sera to bed and then myself,” I announce. “Suit yourself what you do.”
He reaches down to the floor to scoop Sera into his arms, then passes our girl over the back of the sofa to me. I nestle my face against her head, inhaling the unequalled smell of innocence while I side-eye Zeus.
He stares up at the ceiling, already a million miles away in his head as I leave the room.
I’m not naïve. I do know that the days for us will return, and eventually, we’ll get a lot more alone time with a lot less stress. But thinking about how old Sera will be before she’s independent enough to give us that room to breathe leaves me on the verge of tears.
Every week is a struggle at the moment, every month, a prolonged nightmare. Wrapping my head around this situation lasting years is a concept I don’t even want to entertain.
Switching the light in Sera’s room off, I head toward where the nightlight kicks in behind her cot. She refuses to stay down after I set her on the low mattress, pulling herself awkwardly to her knees and then to wobbly feet against the rails. It won’t be long, and she’ll be in a controlled freefall between the furniture, toppling her little weight as she rushes from point to point.
I guess I should relish the days that she’s somewhat less of a problem when I can at least know that if I put her down, she won’t get far in a short space of time.
“Time to go to sleep, baby.” I gently set her on her back again, placing a firm hand on her chest to give her a hint she should stay down.
Her chubby hands grip my wrist, and she manages to wriggle from underneath my splayed fingers. Adequately filling her belly has been a double-edged sword. She’s a lot happier between feeds, but she seems to have also found an extra supply of energy.
This damn child won’t be sleeping any time soon.
“Story time?”
Her hand slips between the rails, and she gestures to the small bookcase. “Buh.”
Her go-to word for anything that isn’t “Ma” or “Duh.”
“What shall we have tonight?” I make a show of deciding what book to pick.
There’s only three. And they were all gifted. Yet another area that leaves me with a pang of guilt. I should be stocking her room with opportunity to learn in every corner, filling every shelf. Instead, I can recite Where the Wild Things Are without having to look at the pages.
Sera drops to her arse as I settle on the floor beside her cot and open the cover to the first page.
I read the damn thing through a solid three times before her eyes droop and she relents, shifting to her back without any prompting from me. As I sit beside her, deathly still while I wait for her to nod off, it occurs to me that I haven’t heard a thing from Zeus.
Usually, the muted tones of the television would drift through the door, or on the odd occasion, he comes to stand and watch as I get Sera to settle.
Not tonight.
Silence wraps around me, as welcome as the dark while I back slowly from the room, low to the floor. Sera shifts. I freeze. But she settles, allowing me the chance to escape and retreat to my bed as well.
Although, after the tension choking the air tonight, I wonder if sleeping on her floor would have been such a bad idea?
FOURTEEN
Zeus
Belle’s hushed words are a lullaby while I lie in our bed, waiting for her to finish. She puts heart into each telling of the book, no matter how many times she’s read it.
My dove saved my sorry soul from a future of self-loathing and pity. Her stubborn arse wouldn’t take no for an answer, pushing back until I relented and allowed her to show me my worth.
My potential.
A few short years ago and I would have jeopardised my parole and returned to the pen if it meant I got to keep her by my side.
Now.
Now I lie in our shared bed, wondering where the hell that angry dog went—wondering how a few setbacks could turn me into a whimpering whelp content to roll over and watch the world pass him by.
Where the hell did my fire go? Twenty-five years ago, I had the guts as a skinny teenager to stand up to our old man when I felt it was my duty to set things right. I stood before him as a pubescent kid, my knuckles popping as my nails dug into my palms.
I didn’t doubt myself. Never once second-guessed if I was doing the right thing. I saw my sister cry one time too many and I stepped up to set his crooked fucking record straight.
But somehow, I’ll stand idly by and listen to my woman weep when she thinks I can’t hear her as though it’s some rite of passage for new parents.
There’s no point talking to anyone about it. They’ll all steer Belle toward the doc with a pat on the back citing post-natal depression. But it’s not. Parenting doesn’t make her cry.
I do.
Her feet make a soft swish on the carpet as she enters the room, cloaked in darkness, the moon hidden behind the rain clouds that are supposed to stick around for a few days yet. I roll to my side, facing the door, and wait for her to slip her clothes off and join me.
The en suite door closes with a gentle click. Fuck’s sake.
Against my best efforts, I nod off a few times before Belle’s weight finally makes the far side of the bed dip. I have no idea what time it is, only that I’ve done too many early mornings in a row to be able to stay up half the night if she clams up on me.
Her legs slide down beside mine, careful not to touch. The sheet barely moves. She positions herself with the utmost care so as not to disturb me, seemingly unaware I’m wide fucking awake.
“She go down okay in the end?” I murmur.
Belle jolts. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was, and I wasn’t.” I reach out, sliding my fingers across her body until I get the hold I want.
She doesn’t protest, allowing me to drag her closer, wriggling myself her way as well. My arm fits around her perfectly; my leg bent to snare hers beneath it. I angle my head toward her, my lips brushing her ear as I whisper, “Call your dad tomorrow, okay?”
I don’t wait for her answer, nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck and closing my eyes. She lies as still as a rock, chest barely rising with each breath.
It’s coming; I can feel it.
“Why the sudden change of heart?” My baby tries so hard, but there’s no hiding her frustration.
Twenty-odd seconds of silence and that was the most nonconfrontational thing she could think of asking.
“Because my pride isn’t your problem,” I answer simply.
She’s rigid enough that I swear I could use her as a washboard.
“Just say it,” I sigh.
She waits for me to pull away, to give her space—tough shit. I won’t back down this time.
“I can’t keep doing this, Zeus.”
“I know.”
“I can’t keep starving myself, worrying if we’ll get our power cut off or if I can stretch the bill another week, stressing about how to feed you both with the shitty amount of groceries I can afford to—”
“I said, I know.”
Her breath rushes out her nose, ticking my bicep where my arm lays across her chest. “What if I left it too late?”
This time I pull back. The pale light cast from Sera’s nightlight across the hall is barely enough to make anything out, but I know she stares straight up at the ceiling, much like I was not so long ago. “Left what too late?”
Belle twists to face me where I now lie propped up on my elbow. “Establishing a name for myself.” Our legs remain tangled at the knee.
“Dove, anyone who sees your work is blown away by it. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
She stays mute, and I curse the lack of visibility. “Shut your eyes.” Leaning across Belle, I reach over to her nightstand and tap around for her phone.
The torchlight sends white radiating across her face after I set the phone back down on its screen.
“I don’t want to add pressure, babe.” I settle back beside her. “But if you want this to work out, you need to have confidence in yourself.”
Her throat bobs. “I do.” Belle’s brow bunches. “I mean sort of. Ugh.”
The sudden sense of deja vu hits me like a rock to the gut. This is the same as she was under her mother, Cerise’s influence. I stare down at the woman I love but recognise the child I knew first. Inside my beautiful babe is a scared kid, still second-guessing her God-given natural talent.
I’ve never seen anyone pick up a pencil and be able to create magic the same as she does. It was only logical that she’d find a career in something artistic.
“Dove.” Her gaze finds mine. “Listen to me.” I reach over and smooth the back of my fingers across her cheek. “The only thing you’ll need to worry about is how you’ll fit all the booking requests in.”
A smile cracks her face, and she huffs a laugh. “I don’t think I’ll be that popular. It takes time to build a business, Zeus.”
Don’t I know it. Talk about pinpointing my biggest fear when it comes to pursuing what I want.
“Mind over matter,” is all I say instead. “Believe you can do it and you’ll fucking do it.”
Her smile grows shy. “You honestly think I have that much pull?”
“Babe.” I snort. “You know as well as I do the guys all harass me about when you’ll be opening up time for them as a favour.”
She smiles a little more.
“Believe in the end result, and eventually, you’ll get there.”
She prods me in the arm, her finger bending against the solidity of my muscle. “Shouldn’t I be saying this to you?”
“Perhaps.” I shrug my topmost shoulder.
Belle’s brow dips as she drops a sigh. “I don’t want this to come between us if I do get the loan from Dad.”
“It won’t.” The bed puffs under my weight as I drop to my back.
Her concerned frown peeks into my periphery. “Say that again like you mean it.”
“Dove.” I roll my head her way and implore her with my gaze to let it go.
It’ll hurt. And yeah, it’ll take time to drop the petty jealousy around it. But Belle doesn’t have to worry.
I could never stop loving my woman. Not now. Not ever.
I’m not the wisest or most travelled guy, but I know for sure there is no-one else in this world like her. Not for me, anyway.
“I hate that we’re here,” Belle whispers, fingers dancing across the lines of my chest. “This isn’t us.”
“I know.”
“So why do we let it be?”
Her rich brown eyes search mine. I bite my lip, studying her face as she does me. “We’re tired, babe. Frustration comes along with the package.”
“I guess.” She flops to her back also. “It won’t be long.” Silence stretches before she speaks again. “I’ll get my business earning, and once we have an average over six months or so, we’ll go to the bank about your venture.”
“Try two to three years.”
“What?” She rolls to face me.
“The deposit or even savings history I’d need would be two to three years’ worth of work,” I point out. “The bank won’t give me over a hundred thousand on the promise of six months of tattoo work.”
She has no rebuttal. Good, because I have no interest left in
the conversation.
“Just call your dad tomorrow and jack it all up, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“And dove?”
“Yeah.”
I close my eyes and feel her stiffen beside me as I add, “Don’t talk to me about any of it, okay?”
FIFTEEN
Belle
“Thank you so much for this.” I run my eye over the counter one last time to make sure I’ve left notes and instructions on everything she’ll need.
“It’s fine.” Jodie snorts at my anxiousness. “I’m no stranger to babies, Belle. If you haven’t left me a note, I’ll figure it out.”
I smile, patting my pockets. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Go.” She nods toward where Dad waits outside. “We’ll be fine.” Her brow lifts, and she peers at me from under her lashes. “I have your number if I need it.”
“Yeah, okay.” I check my phone on the way over to Sera anyway, just to be sure I charged it last night.
I did what Zeus asked a week ago, and I phoned Dad. And just like he asked, I never told him the result. But I’m sure he knows.
He’d be blind if he hasn’t noticed me clean out the home studio and prepare it for clients.
Dad organised second-hand shelves for the garage and bought plastic tubs so I could sort and store all our things in a way that would be easy on the eye, considering I’ll have people nearby. I wiped, swept, and washed the outside of the house and the path until it was near new, eager for the first impression to be a good one.
Zeus said nothing when he came home last night to a new pathway through our side lawn, leading to the external studio door.
He said nothing this morning when I phoned Jodie to confirm she could still watch Sera. And he said nothing when he left for work, merely giving me a kiss on the cheek and Sera a ruffle on the head.
He hates this; I know it. But if we want to move forward, this is the answer.
I might only get one extra job a week to start with, but if I want to build my new client base at home, then I’ll need to take whatever I can get. Wade knows that I took the work at the shop to earn the capital for my studio. Our unspoken agreement was, though, that I wouldn’t steal his client base in the process.