The Lighter Side of Large

by Becky Siame

  I hold out my hand. “Let me have the phone.”

  “Here’s Mummy,” Abe says and hands me it.

  I cradle it between my shoulder and ear. “Hello?”

  Mika’s voice is full of concern. “Bella? What’s going on? Is Fi hurt?”

  “No. The kids’ rabbit died and she’s upset. She keeps asking for you.”

  “Put her on the line,” Mika orders.

  I hand the phone to Fi. “Daddy wants to talk to you.”

  Fi stops crying, sniffles and takes the phone but just holds it to her ear, not speaking. “Say hi,” I tell her.

  “Hi,” she says in monotone. I can’t hear Mika, but Fi nods, sniffles, nods, says “Yes”, sniffles, and hands the phone back to me. She snuggles close to me, her tears subsiding.

  “It’s me again,” I say. “Whatever you said, thanks.”

  “I told Fi I’ll be over in half an hour. We’ll have a funeral and bury the rabbit together.”

  “What?”

  “Is everything else okay?”

  “Well, yes, but you don’t need to…”

  “Okay, see you in thirty minutes,” Mika says and hangs up.

  That’s odd, I think. Mika dropping everything to hustle over here on account of a dead rabbit. When did Mika become a family man, putting the kids before cases?

  In less than thirty minutes, Mika pulls into the driveway. I open the door as he steps out of his car, takes off his jacket and throws it back inside, then loosens his tie. “Hey, Bella, how are you?”

  “You didn’t need to come over,” I ignore his question.

  Mika pauses and pats me on the arms. “It’s okay. Work was slow and Fi really sounded like she needs me.”

  He steps around me into the house.

  Fi is balled up on the couch with her favorite blanket and doll, watching cartoons on the television with a sad face. “Hey, baby girl,” Mika says, scooping her up and sitting down with her in his lap.

  “Dad!” Abe rushes in from down the hallway and catapults none-too-gently into him.

  “Ow! You hit me,” Fi punches him in retaliation.

  “Knock it off,” Mika warns them. “Now tell me what happened to Snowball.”

  The question is directed at Fi but Abe answers, too, so Mika gets two hypothetical versions of the story at the same time and consequently can understand nothing.

  Mika laughs. “Whoa, whoa, one at a time. Fi, you first.”

  Fi takes a deep breath. “A burglar crawled through the window and gave Snowball cancer and that’s why we didn’t know he was sick.”

  Mika looks at me, alarmed, “You were burglarised? Did you call the police?”

  “No, that’s not what happened,” Abe says, annoyed.

  “Uh-uh, you said that’s what happened,” Fi protests.

  “I did not,” Abe argues. “I said it might have happened, but Mummy says Snowball got cancer and broke his neck.”

  “NO, I did not,” I butt in. “I said maybe he was sick.”

  Abe and Fi argue some more but Mika quiets them. “All right, that’s enough. We don’t know what really happened to Snowball but he deserves a proper burial, so let’s go.”

  “Yay!” Abe cheers. “Can I dig the hole?”

  “Mummy won’t let you touch Snowball,” Fi informs Mika.

  Mika smiles at her and then at me. “But Daddy’s rules trump Mummy’s rules, so I get to.”

  I snort. “As if. There’s a plastic bag in Fi’s room and the shovel’s already outside.”

  Mika retrieves Snowball in the bag and he goes outside with Fi and Abe. I watch them through the kitchen window as Abe digs a hole. In his enthusiasm, dirt and turf go flying and hit Fi, who flares up in anger at Abe getting her doll dirty. After that, Mika helps him be less exuberant in his digging.

  It’s a cute scene, just as a family should be: working together on something not really important yet making a memory they’ll never forget. I’m happy that the kids are happy around their dad, but it makes it all the more bittersweet that we aren’t a whole family any longer.

  Fi runs in the house. “It’s time for the funeral,” she announces. She grabs my hand and pulls me outside. Abe pats down the grave with his hands and stands up, brushing the dirt off his hands and onto his trousers. We stand there for a moment in silence.

  “Fi, would you like to say something about Snowball?” I ask.

  She nods. Still holding my hands, she sets down her doll and grabs Mika’s hand, who in turn takes Abe’s hand, who then grabs my hand. We stand in a closed circle around the grave.

  Fi shuts her eyes. “Dear God, please take care of Snowball in heaven and make sure he gets lots of carrots and lettuce to eat. Amen.”

  I look at Abe. “Would you like to say anything?”

  Abe looks thoughtful. “Can we get a dog?”

  “Perhaps you can sing a song,” I suggest to Fi to end the memorial.

  Fi nods. “I’ll sing Snowball’s favorite song.”

  “Snowball doesn’t have a favorite song,” Abe scoffs.

  Mika squeezes his hand and gives him a look which silences him. “Go ahead, Fi,” Mika encourages.

  Fi pauses and then takes breath. “Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer/had a very shiny nose/and if you ever saw it/you would even say it glows.”

  I bite my lip in an effort to not laugh; Mika grins; and then we all join our voices to Fi’s and sing Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer to commemorate the passing of a beloved rabbit.

  When the song is finished, Mika crouches down and wraps an arm around both kids. “It’s not fun losing a pet, but you guys are very brave. But don’t bug Mummy about getting a new pet just yet, okay?”

  Abe and Fi nod. “Are you having tea with us?” Fi asks.

  No, say no, I plead silently.

  Mika grins. “I’d love to, if that’s all right with Mummy.”

  “Yay!” the kids cheer, jumping up and down. “Please say yes, please say yes!” they beg. Mika smiles and shrugs as if he has nothing to do with it.

  “Fine,” I say without enthusiasm and the kids erupt in more cheering.

  Mika stands. “I’ll help cook.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” I say turning to walk back into the house. When I walk through the door, my eyes focus on my laptop. In that instance, I remember my abrupt departure from the online chat with RoMANce. The laptop is in screen saver mode, so the chat isn’t visible.

  I walk over and shut the screen just as Mika walks in.

  He stands in the kitchen, hands on his hips. “I’m serious about helping you with dinner. Or do you want to order out?”

  “No, I’ll fix dinner by myself, thanks,” I say, rummaging through the refrigerator for something to cook. To my chagrin, I have everything needed for Mika’s favorite casserole, something I hadn’t cooked for him in years.

  Mika pulls out a chair and sits at the table. “You’ve lost weight. You look really good.”

  Oh, so now you notice. “Thanks,” I say.

  “How much weight have you lost?” he asks.

  “Twenty kilos.”

  “Wow, impressive,” he nods. “Keep it up. Your hard work is paying off.”

  I get some more ingredients out of the cabinet.

  “When’s the surgery?” he asks.

  “Two weeks.”

  “Are you still able to come to the engagement party?”

  “Do you still want me to come?” I ask, my back turned.

  “You do what makes you comfortable.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m still coming. The surgery is a couple days after that.”

  Mika drums his fingers on the table. “You know Tiresa found out about the surgery, don’t you? Mama Rose told her and she assumes your dad is giving you the money for it.”

  I laugh bitterly. “Oh, yeah, I know.”

  Mika looks confused. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  I turn to face him. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

 
; Mika starts to argue but shuts his mouth and drops the subject.

  After that, our conversation focuses on lighter topics: Abe and Fi, his work, my drawing again, theories of Snowball’s death.

  “By the way I can’t find my old sketch book. Did I leave it at your house?” I ask. We sit at the table sipping coffee, waiting for the casserole to cook.

  Mika toys with his mug. “I haven’t seen it but I’ll have a look around.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “It means a lot.”

  Soon the casserole is done and we are having dinner together as a family. The kids are thrilled, cutting up and giggling about everything and anything. Mika and I actually laugh and smile and joke as well. This is the family we never were.

  Mika’s phone, which is sitting on the table, vibrates. He picks it up, looks at the incoming text, and texts back. He meets my gaze with a shrug. “Tiresa.”

  “What did you tell her?” I ask.

  Mika makes a face. “I said I was still at work.”

  I watch him until he looks away, and I know he knows what I’m thinking: he lied to her, just like he lied to me years ago, claiming he was at work when he was really with Tiresa. The irony of it all, I muse.

  After dinner, Mika does the dishes while I help Abe with his homework and get Fi’s bath ready. All too soon, it’s bedtime. The kids beg for Mika to read them a story, and then another, but he stops and instead tucks them into bed.

  I’m on the sofa as he comes back into the living room. He flops down next to me and the sofa sounds its loud screech. “Oops, sorry,” he says.

  “For what?”

  “For crashing into the sofa.”

  I shrug. “Isn’t that what sofas are for?”

  Mika laughs. “Yeah, but not at my house. There are, a-hem, rules not of my making which prevent proper crashing. Relaxing must be done in moderation.”

  I chuckle. “I see.” I’m secretly pleased that Mika feels comfortable enough to crash on my sofa when he can’t on Tiresa’s. She refurnished the family room after I left, even though the furniture was practically brand new. I know I shouldn’t feel this way and that this night is nothing but a one-off event, but knowing I still have some influence over Mika, however insignificant, is empowering.

  “You always did flop with gusto, even in college.”

  Mika nods. “Yeah. At least I am good at something.”

  That gets my attention. “What makes you say that?”

  Mika smiles that make-you-melt smile. Don’t think about it! Look away! It’s a trap! I scream at myself. “You know. I haven’t been the best guy around.”

  “No argument there,” I murmur. Then we both look at each other and die laughing.

  Mika reaches out his hand. Tentatively, I place mine in his. “We haven’t gotten along like this since…”

  “University,” I finish for him.

  He nods. “You’re right. Why is that?”

  I laugh again. “Don’t get me started!”

  Mika smiles again. Melt. “You’re right; I’d better not go there.” He pauses for a moment, looking at my hand. “Thank you.”

  “For what? Not going there?”

  “No, silly girl,” he rubs his thumb on the top of my hand. “For this evening. For dinner. For now. For letting me come over.”

  “I don’t think I had a choice in that,” I protest. Don’t think about his smile. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him, don’t think, pull your hand away. . .

  Mika looks up and I fall into his sexy bedroom eyes. He leans closer and so do I and we kiss. It is brief and meaningful, but it is enough. There is something between us still, and I can’t help but rejoice. He may have left me for my sister, but I’ve still got a hold on him.

  His hand runs up my arm. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” I murmur but make no attempt to move away. This is stupid. Stop now before it gets out of hand.

  Now he caresses my face. “I should go now. Fi seems fine. I’ll buy them a pet so you won’t have to take care of one.”

  I close my eyes. “I can afford a pet, Mika. I’m not totally poor.”

  Mika moves even closer, our lips inches apart. “You are poor. Bella, why will you let me give you money for surgery but not for a house or a flat? I can set you up in a nice place. You won’t have to live in this shack. How can you stand it? The kids need room to run and grow, too.”

  And just like that, the magic fizzles out. I pull away from him and cross my arms. After all he’s done this afternoon and evening, I can’t believe he’s insulting my house. “The kids are fine. They’re happy. They don’t remember moving out of a huge modern house because they still live there on the weekends.”

  Mika just looks at me. “So it’s a pride thing for you.”

  My jaw drops. “Yes, I know it’s hard for you to believe that I still do have a shred of pride and dignity after you kicked me out of my own home.”

  Mika rubs his temples. “Bella, I’m just trying to help. Why won’t you let me help? You’re the mother of my children and I still care for you.”

  I laugh, but it is devoid of mirth. “You’ve got some nerve, Mika. You can’t have it both ways - ‘I still care for you, but I’m marrying your sister, but I feel guilty so let me buy my way out of that guilt’. Why don’t you rub some more salt in that wound, huh?”

  Mika’s jaw stiffens. “I am not trying to buy my way out of guilty feelings.”

  Now I cackle. “You abandoned me with an eighteen- month-old and two-week-old baby. You told me to get out of the house and left me to deal with parenthood and depression all alone, and you expect me to believe that you don’t feel guilty about it? You dropped the ball big time when it came to being a man and you don’t have the balls to admit it. Do you have any idea how much hurt you caused me? How devastated I was, but day after day I put on a bold face so Abe and Fi wouldn’t be affected by my pain? I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been the same since. I’m exhausted from being a single parent; I’m hurt by the insistence of my family to play nice with my sister even though she stabbed me in the back; and I’m sick and tired of your games.”

  “Games? What games?” Mika protests.

  “What you’re doing right now!” I practically shout.

  “Hush. Don’t let the kids hear you,” Mika says.

  “Maybe they need to hear what a jerk you’ve been,” I retort.

  Mika gets up. “I know I haven’t been the perfect husband, but you gotta give me some credit. I do take care of the kids. I came over here to help out. I’m not the bad guy you think I am.”

  I stand up. Our faces are inches apart. “What good guy abandons his wife two weeks after giving birth? I gave you my life. I dropped out of college for you. I kept house for you. I had your babies. I wrote your papers and speeches so people wouldn’t know what a complete imbecile you are at expressing yourself. And how did you thank me? You start sleeping with my sister. You divorce me. And never once have you apologised for your actions. If you’re sorry you hurt me, you’ve never said so and I doubt you ever will. If that’s not a bad guy, I don’t know what is.”

  Mika holds my gaze for a long while, then turns and walks toward the door. He opens it, pauses like he’s going to say something, but doesn’t and walks out.

  I breathe a sigh of relief as I hear his car’s engine rev to life and he drives away. Disappointment sinks in because he still didn’t apologise for his actions, yet I feel oddly lighthearted. All the bitterness and resentment which has defined me over the past five years is gone.

  His actions and lack of remorse still annoy me, but it doesn’t seem to matter like it did.

  For the first time in five years, the past doesn’t matter as much as the future.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Life comes with ‘Stop,’ ‘Pause,’ and ‘Play,’ buttons. It is within our power to stop the negative, pause to consider our course of action, and play out a new direction or thou
ght pattern.”

  FROM BELLA’S BLOG

  http://www.thelightersideoflarge.com/ch16

  Will you stop checking your phone?” Sands tries to grab my phone but I whip it out of her reach.

  I haven’t heard from Jae in two weeks - and it’s driving me crazy. Why won’t he call or answer my texts and emails? Is he busy with work? Did he bungee jump off a bridge and the cord broke and he died? Did he decide after kissing me that he didn’t want to pursue a relationship? He’d done nothing to indicate that he was losing interest, so what is his deal?

  “Bella, forget about Jae. Tonight is about you and about celebrating. Don’t focus on what’s not here and what you don’t have. Focus on the now,” Sands lectures me as we drive through town in her car to the pub.

  “I know, I know,” I say, “But why hasn’t he-”

  “No buts!” Sands orders.

  “Yes, there are buts!” I exclaim. “He kissed me. He asked me out on a picnic lunch. He asked me to the grand opening of his new business. He pursued me through the grocery store to ask me out on the quad bike outing. He has called, emailed, and texted up to last week. He has initiated everything between us except for first contact…”

  “You make it sound like some Star Trek encounter with an alien species.”

  “Can I finish? And now he disappears off the face of the planet. Did he get scared off? Did he find someone else? Why are men so frustrating?”

  “Testosterone, that’s why,” Sands replies. “If men were women, they’d make sense.”

  “Yeah,” I grumble.

  “I’m serious, Bella. I know you really like Jae but you can’t let it ruin your evening. You can’t wait around for him to call, because you’ll be waiting forever. We’re going to let it all hang out and have a good time, right?” Sands says in her best trainer tone of voice.

  “Right,” I reply, less than enthusiastically.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sands demands as we arrive at the pub.

  I stare at my hands in my lap. “Guys leave me. That’s what they do. I’m just not good enough.” I may look good on the outside, but I feel like crap on the inside. To get my hopes raised, only to be disappointed to cruelly - it just isn’t fair.