by Rachel Marks
‘Thanks, boys.’
They stop fighting immediately and collapse into fits of giggles. Nothing like their dad’s misfortune to encourage solidarity between brothers.
I wipe the glue off my face with my sleeve. ‘Right, shall we get papier-mâchéing now?’
The boys start dipping great big pieces of paper into the glue and I show them how to rip the paper into strips first and then stick it around the plastic Coke bottle. It seems to take an age to cover and when it’s done, there’s no getting away from it, it just resembles a giant penis.
Finn holds it up and furrows his brow. ‘How are we going to get it to look like a volcano?’
Gabe snatches it off him. ‘It needs a structure, made out of card or something, to make it look more like a pyramid shape.’
I wonder when my son’s intelligence surpassed my own. I take a photo of the bottle and send it to Mimi along with the message: In craft hell. Please rescue me.
Five minutes later, her reply comes through.
It’s an awesome rocket. Keep going !
It’s supposed to be a volcano …
Oh. I’m actually not far from yours. Do you really want some help?
Do birds fly?
After I’ve sent it, I realize it’s probably not the best question to elicit a definitive yes. What about penguins? Or emus? Or ostriches? But hopefully she’ll get my intention.
‘Good news, boys. My friend Mimi is going to come over and help us turn this into the best volcano ever in the whole world.’
‘Can we play on the PlayStation whilst we wait?’ Gabe says, ever resourceful.
‘No. She’ll only be a few minutes.’
‘But when can we play on it? You normally let us.’
‘There’s more to life than the PlayStation, kiddo.’ I ruffle Gabe’s hair and he sits and sulks until there’s a knock at the door. ‘That’ll be Mimi. Let’s go and let her in.’
The boys always get so excited when there’s someone at the door. It’s actually quite hurtful, as if any visitor is preferable to spending the whole day with just me. They rush past me and open the door to a slightly startled-looking Mimi.
‘Can you help us make the volcano?’ Finn says, still unaware of the function of social graces.
‘Of course. I’d love to.’
‘Come on in. Welcome to the mayhem.’ I guide Mimi through to the lounge. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘A coffee would be great. Thank you.’
‘Right, look after Mimi, please, boys. By the way, the big bossy one is called Gabriel and the little scraggy-looking urchin is Finn.’
‘I’m not an urchin,’ Finn says, creasing his forehead, even though he has no idea what an urchin even is.
I go through to the kitchen to make Mimi a drink, listening to the ripping and scrunching of paper, the boys’ fights for Mimi’s attention (Look, Mimi, I’ve cut out the base. Look, Mimi, I’ve made three balls of paper. Well, I’ve made four. And so on and so on), but she sounds like she’s taking it all in her stride, calmly and enthusiastically doling out praise to both of them for their achievements.
When I get to the lounge, the creation already looks more like a volcano. A circular stand has been cut out of cardboard and scrunched up balls of newspaper have been stuck around the bottom of the bottle to give the volcano a wider base.
‘Right, now we need to do some more papier mâché on top of these balls,’ Mimi says, ripping off strips of newspaper and handing them to the boys. She’s a complete natural and the boys happily follow her every command.
‘How do you even know this stuff?’ I ask, handing Mimi a coffee.
She puts the coffee down on the hearth and pulls out her phone from her pocket, showing me the screen. Step-by-step instructions with photos.
‘If in doubt, google, hey?’ I say, smiling.
‘Well, having my skills and intelligence help too. Right, come on, get your hands dirty.’
I kneel down beside them at the coffee table and help with the papier mâché. I have no doubt that our masterful creation will end up in the teacher’s bin by the end of the week, but it’s nice to see the boys working as a team, to be creating something instead of destroying things.
When we’ve finished the basic structure, we leave it to dry and decide to head out to the park.
‘Do you want to come with us, Mimi?’ Finn says, tapping her on the arm. It’s strange to see him with an adult who’s not family or a teacher. He’s such an open child. Immediately warm and accepting.
‘Well, I’m actually walking that way to work so, yes, I could join you for a bit, I suppose.’
‘You don’t go to work on a Saturday,’ Finn says, laughing at Mimi as if she’s made a really stupid mistake.
Mimi smiles. ‘Unfortunately, I do have to work on a Saturday sometimes. Rubbish, isn’t it? But I’ve got time for a quick play first.’
We walk along to the local park. It’s a dull day, but it’s not too cold and the boys have fun climbing around on the play equipment whilst I pretend to be a monster and chase them, grabbing at their limbs from the ground and making growling noises.
‘They’re adorable,’ Mimi says, as I take a breather from my role as children’s entertainer and sit down on the bench next to her.
‘Thank you. They have their moments. And they clearly loved you.’
‘Ah yeah. Emma sometimes calls me the child whisperer. One of my many skills. In fact, maybe that’s why I get on with you. Same mental age.’
‘Maybe.’
Mimi checks her phone and then puts it back in her pocket. ‘So how are things with Kate? Have you spoken to her about the kiss yet?’
‘No. I haven’t spoken to her at all since. I wonder if I’ll be able to gauge how she’s feeling when I drop the boys off tomorrow.’
‘And how are you feeling about it?’
‘I don’t know. It felt right at the time, like there was something still there between us. More than just our shared history, but it’s hard to tell with Kate.’
‘The volcano is a nice touch. I’m sure she’ll be impressed.’
‘Thanks to you, yeah. Hopefully she will be. To be honest, it felt good to do something worthwhile with them. Even if Kate decides she doesn’t want me back, I’d like to be a better dad.’
‘Good for you.’ Mimi glances at her watch. ‘Right, sadly work is calling. Keep telling myself it’ll all be worth it when I’m off on my travels.’ She stands up and wipes some debris from the bench off the back of her jeans. ‘I’ll see you soon though, yeah? In fact, I’m taking Harley to this kids’ mindfulness session tomorrow. It might impress Kate if you wanted to bring the boys along? Unless it’s a bit weird with Harley being in your class and everything?’
I’m not sure if there are any hard and fast rules about seeing children out of school, and taking the boys to a mindfulness class certainly would surprise Kate. She was always quite on board with that sort of stuff, buying herself one of those mindfulness colouring books and talking about taking time to just ‘be’, whereas I always just mocked it as a hippy fad.
‘I think it’d be OK if we happened to turn up to the same class, wouldn’t it?’
‘OK, great. I’ll see if there are any spaces left and give you a text later.’
‘Sounds good. And thanks for today. I do really appreciate it.’
‘Not a problem. It was fun. Right, I’ll just go and say bye to the boys.’
I nod and Mimi heads over to where the boys are hurtling down the slide, Gabe hanging on to Finn’s legs to pull him down quicker. She says goodbye and they both wave and then she leaves the park.
When we get home, the boys paint their volcano and, when it’s dry, I take great pleasure in showing them the exciting bit, pouring vinegar into the bottle and then spooning in the bicarbonate of soda and watching it bubble and hiss down the edges.
‘That’s awesome, Daddy,’ Gabe says, looking up at me like I’m a magician.
‘Yeah, do it again, d
o it again,’ Finn says, jumping up and down.
So I do it a couple more times until the volcano is looking a little worse for wear and then I put it on the front step to dry out.
In the evening, we order in pizza and cuddle up in front of a film, one boy under each arm. I love our film nights, the nostalgia of watching kids’ movies, the feel of my boys snuggled in next to me.
When it looks as if the main character (a dog with super-powers) is going to be captured, Finn starts shaking and buries his head in my chest.
‘What’s up, little man? You know he’s going to be fine, right? Kids’ films always have a happy ending.’
Finn peers up at me, looks back at the screen (where the dog is being dangled by one of his back legs) and then hides his face again.
They’ve always been sensitive, my boys. I mean, they can be as lively and boisterous as the next kid, but they seem to feel things deeply. A lot of things that go over other kids’ heads have a more long-lasting effect on my two. I suppose I was the same when I was little. I remember crying when the teacher read us a story about an evacuee – none of the other kids batted an eyelid over it, some even joking about how amazing it would be to get away from their parents, but I felt every ounce of the boy’s loneliness and fear. I was quite clingy too. I never liked saying goodbye when Mum dropped me at school or going to parties on my own.
In fact, I used to have to carry around a ‘magic’ stone. Of course, it wasn’t really magic but my dad told me it was. He said if I kept it in my pocket it would bring me good luck and keep me safe. I’d hold it tightly every night to help me get to sleep, stroke it whenever I was feeling scared. I got a bit obsessed with it in the end, freaking out if I ever forgot to take it somewhere. Even when I went to secondary school, I always kept it on me, more secretly of course, putting my hand into my pocket to touch it rather than bringing it out.
Remembering the comfort it used to give me, I reach into my pocket to see if I can find anything that would do the trick, and underneath a random receipt I feel some coins. I dig out two one-pence pieces and hand one to each boy. ‘These are magic coins. If you keep one in your pocket, then you never have to feel scared. It’ll always keep you safe.’
Gabe flips his coin over, a slightly sceptical look on his face, but I notice he then tucks it into his pocket. Finn has none of the same bravado, smiling broadly and clutching his penny tightly. Gradually, he allows himself to look at the screen again, then after a few minutes he turns back to me with a look of wonder on his face. ‘It works, Daddy. I don’t feel scared any more.’
It helps that the dog’s now got the upper hand in the battle, but I’m chuffed nonetheless.
‘I love Daddy weekends,’ Finn says, wrapping his free arm around my tummy and squeezing it tight.
‘Me too,’ Gabe says, taking his eyes off the screen for a second to look up at me.
And it dawns on me that maybe I didn’t fight hard enough before because I thought my family were better off without me. That I was only dragging them down. But hearing my boys makes me wonder if I can be a positive influence in their lives, in Kate’s life even. Maybe I’m not a total waster. And one thing’s for certain – I don’t want this to be my once a fortnight any more. I want this to be my every day.
*
The kids in the mindfulness class are pretty much what you would expect – long-haired, knitted rainbow jumpers and baggy linen trousers, with names like ‘Tarquin’ and ‘Indigo’. Harley, in particular, stands out like a sore thumb. But I can tell he’s super-excited to have me here and I can’t help but find it endearing.
Our first activity is to make superhero poses, noticing how strong and brave they make us feel. Unfortunately, it’s one of those kids’ classes that requires full adult participation so I’m currently stood on one leg with one arm out in front of me like Superman. I don’t feel particularly strong or brave – I feel like a numpty – but the boys seem to be enjoying it, giggling away with Harley, as they become Spiderman and Thor and Captain America. I’m concerned that perhaps we’ll be seen as the naughty contingent, not taking it seriously enough, but as I look around, all the other children seem to be giggling and having fun too.
Our next activity is to use our ‘Spider-sense’ (I get the feeling they’ve been given the feedback to make the course appeal more to boys) where we have to sit in a space, still, and just observe all the things our different senses are picking up. I can tell this one’s going to be harder for Harley and, within seconds, he’s wriggling around and making silly noises with his lips. But to be fair to the teacher, she’s really good with him (perhaps I need to take a few tips back to school with me), putting her hand gently on the top of his head and taking deep breaths with him until he’s stiller and then helping him to notice all the things he can sense.
Then she stands up and moves around the room. ‘Think about what your fingers are touching, the sensation of it, what you can smell – is it sweet, is it bitter – what you can taste, what you can see. Just look straight ahead of you, and what can you hear? Because even in the quiet here there are tiny noises.’
My tummy rumbles, embarrassingly long and loud, and Mimi glances over at me, biting her lip to try to stop herself from laughing.
After that, we finish the session with a drawing activity where we have to pair up and draw the person in front of us, just their face, but trying to include as many details as possible. The boys decide to make a three, Harley taking on the challenge of drawing Finn and Gabe, and poor Mimi’s stuck with me.
‘Be kind,’ I say, suddenly feeling horribly self-conscious as she picks up her pencil and starts drawing the outline of my face.
She just smiles and continues drawing and I start to draw her, noticing for the first time that she has a birthmark above one eyebrow – a slightly paler India-shaped patch of skin – and that one of her eyes is a slightly brighter green than the other. When we’re finished, I’m mortified to find we have to show each other. Mimi shows me her drawing first. It’s not flattering. With my dark hair and glasses, I always hope I’ve got something of the Robert Downey Jr about me, but she’s made me look more like Woody Allen.
‘Is my nose really that big?’
Mimi laughs. ‘I’m not a great drawer, OK?’ Then she grabs my drawing out of my hands. ‘Let’s see your depiction of me, then.’
I cover my face, scared of her reaction, but when I peer out from behind my hands, she looks happy. ‘You can actually draw. And you’ve even made me look quite pretty.’
‘You are pretty.’
She looks unusually shy at the compliment and then the boys charge over, shoving their pictures in front of our faces for us to praise. Before the class finishes, we have to go around the room, shaking hands and thanking each other for coming, and then we’re free.
When we get out, I ask the boys if they enjoyed it, expecting a ‘No, it was boring’ but instead they are full of smiles.
‘It was really fun. Can we go again?’
‘I guess. I’m glad you enjoyed it.’
Mimi ruffles Harley’s hair. ‘How about you, trouble? Did you enjoy it?’
Harley jigs up and down. ‘Yeah. Especially seeing Mr Carlton on a Sunday.’
I smile at him. ‘It was nice to see you too, Harley.’ Then I turn to Mimi. ‘And thank you for suggesting it.’
‘No problem.’ She moves towards Gabe and Finn, who have started wrestling on the grass, the whole calm mindfulness spell having clearly worn off already. ‘Listen, boys. Remember to tell Mummy all about your new class, yeah?’
They stop fighting for a second and nod, and Mimi gives me a sly wink.
‘Right, I better get this one home. See you soon though, Noah, and you, boys.’
Then we wave Mimi and Harley off and head back to the car.
‘Here you are. On time. Homework done.’ I push the boys out in front of me, Gabe holding out the slightly deformed volcano for Kate’s approval.
‘Wow,’ she says, eyeing our
creation then looking back at me. ‘You have been busy.’
‘It actually erupts,’ Gabe says. ‘Can we show you?’
‘Of course, but perhaps we could do it in the garden. I’m not sure Jerry wants the house covered in lava.’
‘We’ve just been to this mindfulness session at the community centre, haven’t we, boys?’ I slip in as casually as possible, as we walk through the house.
‘Yeah, it was really fun, Mummy. Can we go again?’
Kate ignores them and turns to me. ‘Mindfulness?’
‘I thought it might be good for them, that’s all. And they seemed to enjoy it.’
‘It sounds great ! I’m just surprised. I didn’t see you as a mindfulness kind of guy.’
‘Well, people change.’
Kate looks at me, a mixture of suspicion and intrigue. ‘Well, anything that gets them off screens is a winner in my book. Thanks for doing that, Noah.’
‘No problem.’ I try not to show her how chuffed I am, playing it as nonchalant as I can.
When we reach the kitchen, Jerry is standing at the stove, moving vegetables around in a pan, and I try not to let the sight of him dampen my good mood.
When he hears us come in, he turns around, a big (forced?) smile on his face. ‘Oh, hello, Noah. Hi, boys. Did you have a good weekend? Wow, what’s that you’ve created?’
I’m not sure if I imagine the mocking tone in his voice or if it’s really there. I think maybe I want it to be there so I have further excuse to hate him.
‘We made a volcano at Daddy’s house. Come and see how it works.’ Finn takes Jerry’s spare hand and pulls him towards the glass doors and I try not to cry at the sight of Finn’s tiny little hand against Jerry’s rough manly one. I know how awful it is of me but I can’t help feeling slightly betrayed.
Jerry and the boys go out into the garden whilst Kate gets some vinegar and bicarbonate of soda out of the cupboard (unlike me, knowing automatically how to make a volcanic eruption).
‘So what’s all this in aid of?’
‘What do you mean?’ I say, as if I have no idea what she’s referring to.