Blue Saturn

by Jay, Libby

  But he will not stop crying.

  I run him a bath but he kicks and screams and refuses to get in. I try to distract him by ordering a kids movie but he won’t watch it. He lies on the floor, his hands clenched into balls and has a full blown tantrum.

  His irritable behaviour lasts for hours before finally, at one o’clock in the morning his body, in a state of absolute exhaustion, collapses onto the couch and he falls asleep. I contemplate carrying him to bed but I’m terrified that he’ll wake up and have another screaming episode. So I get the blanket from his bed and cover him with it.

  I’m just about to join him when I hear the door to the apartment open. I hear talking and a girl laughs. I quickly run toward the door and stand in front of Mike, pressing my finger to my lips.

  “Shhhh,” I hiss at him.

  “Don’t tell me to be quiet...”

  “Shut up,” I whisper to him. “Mikey...”

  But it’s too late. Mikey has heard Mike’s voice and he starts crying again.

  “Why isn’t he in bed?” Mike asks through clenched teeth.

  “He’s been crying for hours and he fell asleep on the couch. I didn’t want to move him.”

  Mike pushes past me, pulling a brunette behind him and goes straight up stairs. From my position, I see him enter Mikey’s room and close the door.

  I spend the next three hours with a screaming, cranky child.

  I’m semi conscious when I see the brunette leave. Ten minutes later, Mike appears. He’s dressed and is wearing sunglasses.

  “I got no sleep,” he says.

  “That makes three of us.”

  Mikey is sitting on the floor playing with Duplo. He stopped crying about two hours ago, but I’ve been hit with toy cars and blocks and goodness knows what else. I even have a bruise on my arm from a bite.

  “He seems happy enough,” Mike says.

  “Yeah, for now.” I stand up from the couch. “Are you heading out this morning?”

  “We’ve got a TV appearance this afternoon for the late show. We’re pre-recording it at midday.”

  “What time are you leaving?”

  “In an hour. Why do you care?”

  “Can I leave you to keep an eye on Mikey while I have a shower?”

  “Whatever,” he says, pulling orange juice from the fridge.

  I’m massaging shampoo through my hair when I hear Mikey crying again. There’s a loud bang at the door, following by a rattle as the door handle moves. The door is locked, thank goodness, so it doesn’t open.

  “Lyndsay. Open the door.”

  “Can you wait a minute?”

  “Open it now!” Mike yells out followed by two sharp bangs on the door.

  I get out of the shower, my hair still coated in foam, and put on a robe. I wrap my soapy hair in a towel and open the bathroom door.

  “He’s crying again,” Mike says as he pushes Mikey toward me. He turns and walks away.

  I shut the bathroom door and look down at Mikey. He is tired beyond words and looks pale.

  “Is your tummy hurting?” I ask for what feels like the thousandth time since leaving hospital.

  He shakes his head. “Mike won’t play with me.”

  Anger instantly fills me. Anger and frustration and suddenly I feel so tired and my head is thumping. I leave Mikey in the bathroom and head down toward the living are.

  “What the hell is your problem?” I yell at Mike, who is standing out on the balcony smoking.

  “My problem? I don’t have a problem.”

  “You can’t play with your son for ten minutes so I can shower in peace?”

  “He wants to play hide and seek. I don’t want to.”

  “He’s four years old Mike.”

  “Where the hell am I supposed to hide anyway?”

  “It’s a bloody penthouse apartment. There are hundreds of places to hide.”

  “Then why don’t you go sit in one and shut up. Stop hassling me about the kid. What am I paying you for anyway?”

  I start to walk away but then I turn back. “You need to find someone else to look after Mikey. I can’t do it anymore.” I turn around and bump into Mikey.

  “Indsy, are you leaving me too?” His brown eyes are wide and wet as he looks up at me.

  Mike comes in from the balcony and waits for my answer. When I don’t say anything he answers for me. “She’s not going anywhere.” He walks past me and leaves the apartment.

  *****

  Something is not right with Mikey. Besides his irritability, he is developing small red marks on his neck. I phone the hospital and they tell me to come straight down.

  The band is performing tonight, so I know there’s no point calling Mike or Wayne or Gavin. So I call a taxi and go to the hospital.

  We wait for ages in emergency, Mike cries and pulls my hair and screams and the nurses give me funny looks but give other patients priority over us.

  Finally, we’re called in and Mikey is put onto a bed. Only he doesn’t want to lie or sit down and he stands up on the bed and starts jumping.

  “He’s not normally like this,” I explain to the nurse, who is pursing her lips at me.

  I manage to get Mikey to sit still long enough to show the nurse his blotches, which have spread down onto his shoulders.

  “Has he been taking any medication?” she asks. She has his file from his surgery.

  “Only paracetamol,” I answer.

  She nods her head and says she’ll be right back.

  Two hours later, she returns with a doctor. Mikey has fallen asleep, finally.

  The doctor assesses him briefly before diagnosing him with an allergy to paracetamol. He says it so matter of fact it makes me feel like I should’ve known. He tells me to switch over to Neurofen and that Mike should settle down within a few days.

  Considering how quickly this allergic reaction came on, it’s certainly taking its time to regress. It’s been two days since we were at the hospital and Mike hasn’t slept more than two hours between each hysterical bout of crying.

  Mike has made short appearances in our apartment, but I think he must be staying with Gavin. If and when he does visit, they’re very short stays. I can’t say I blame him. It’s starting to get me down too, but unfortunately I can’t walk away.

  I’m at my wits end. If the wailing and punching and hair pulling doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to have to lock Mikey in a room and walk away. I cannot do this anymore.

  “Please, be quiet,” I beg him. He’s been clinging to me for the last three hours. Whenever I try to sit down, he scratches or bites me. I decide to run a bath. He won’t let go of me as I try to undress him and I’m going to have to get into the bath with him. I undress down to my underwear. Mikey won’t let me remove his pyjama pants. So partially dressed, I lower us both down into the warm water. He kicks and screams for a few minutes before he finally lets the warmth of the water relax him.

  He’s sleeping. He’s finally sleeping. His head is resting against my chest. He is so completely relaxed, he feels heavy against me. I empty a bit of water and refill the bath with more hot water. I can’t get out of the bath with Mike asleep against me. I do not want him to wake up. So I’ll stay here for as long as I have to.

  I’m refilling the bath again when I hear a voice behind me.

  “Hey, do you want me to shut the door?”

  I crane my neck and Mike is standing at the door, looking at me. I shake my head and point to my chest. “Mikey is sleeping,” I say quietly.

  Mike enters the bathroom and looks down at his son. “Finally,” he whispers.

  His eyes shift then, from Mikey to my back. I know my hair must be covering most of the skin on my back, but my shoulders are bare and I know he can see my patches.

  “Could you pass me a towel, please?” I ask.

  “You think you got something other women don’t?”

  ‘Yes I do,’ I think, but I don’t say it.

  “Trust me Lyndsay, I’ve seen it all.”
>
  “I’d still like a towel.”

  He cocks an eyebrow and goes to the towel rack and hands me a towel.

  “Thanks,” I say and quickly throw the towel around my shoulders as best I can. “Could you...umm...”

  “Do you want me to lift Mike out?” Mike asks.

  I feel my cheeks heat. A few days ago, Mike and I were ready to kill each other. Now, I’m semi naked in a bath and about to encourage him to be close to me. Really close to me. Mikey’s underarms are right on top of my breasts. To pick Mikey up, Mike is going to have to touch me...right there.

  But I don’t have time to answer him. Mike leans down and as predicted, his fingers graze my breasts. He smiles at me, that smile that makes me want to slap him and lifts Mike up from me.

  As Mike walks out of the bathroom, I stand up, wrap the towel around my body and tuck it into itself under my arms. I grab another towel and throw it around my shoulders.

  I know he’s seen my patches, but it still feels better having it covered. I pick up the clothes from the bathroom floor, grab another towel for Mikey and head to the bedroom.

  Mike is standing next to the end of the bed. “I don’t know what to do,” he says. He looks down at the floor. “I should know, but I don’t.” I sense his embarrassment and his shame. One part of me thinks, ‘yes, you should be ashamed of yourself’, but the softer side of me realises that this is all new to him.

  “It’s okay, I’ll do it.” I put the towel down on the bed and Mike lowers Mikey on to it. He takes a step backward and watches as I undress, dry off and redress Mikey. Mikey sleeps through the entire process. Then I pick him up and put him into his bed.

  When I turn around, Mike looks sad. “I should be able to do that.”

  I shrug. He could do it if he tried. But he never has. “You’re right. I mean, it’s hardly rocket science.”

  “Obviously not if you can do it.” His soft tone is gone. He leaves the room, leaving me alone with my own coursing shame.

  9.

  “I can’t believe you’ve been in Sydney this whole time and haven’t come to visit me.”

  I’m talking to Meredith on the phone. We leave Sydney tomorrow. Amongst all the stress and worry surrounding Mikey and his surgery and rough recovery, I completely forgot I was in the same city to where Meredith lives.

  “Mike won’t let me go out with Mikey. They have their last show tonight and we leave tomorrow afternoon. Do you want to come to the apartment to visit today?”

  “I can’t. I have a fundraiser lunch.”

  “Oh. Well...maybe once I get back from New Zealand I can stop in for a few days.”

  “I’d love that. And so would little Harrison. He misses you. Here say hello.”

  It seems that Harrison hasn’t missed me at all because as soon as he hears my voice he throws the phone across the room. Well I’m assuming he does because before the line goes dead, I hear Meredith yell out, ‘No!’ and then I hear an almighty crash. I hope that wasn’t a window breaking.

  I laugh and put my phone in my pocket before I head down stairs.

  There is some light drizzle this morning but I can see blue sky in the distance. Mikey and I are practising his letters and numbers. I’ve written Mike’s name very faintly on a sheet of paper and he is tracing over it in green crayon, because green is his favourite colour.

  “Good boy Mikey.” I pat his back and encourage him to try writing his name freehand.

  “One long line down...” he begins. He has the best concentration face I’ve ever seen. He squints his eyes and pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth. It’s adorable. “And three short lines across,’ he says as he completes the upper case ‘E’.

  “You’re so clever,” I say, smiling down at him.

  “Let’s do your name,” he says reaching for a clean sheet of paper. “What’s your favourite colour?”

  “Red,” I answer.

  “Okay. I will write your name in red.”

  I faintly write my name on the sheet of paper and slide it across to Mike.

  “Your name is long,” he says as he begins to trace.

  “How many letters does it have it in?” I ask.

  He begins to count them out. “One...two...three...four...five...six...seven. It has seven letters. And mine has one...two...three...four. Just four.” He goes back to tracing my name.

  To my left I see movement. It’s unexpected because it’s early, just after nine and Mike had a show last night and he never shows his face before midday after a performance. But as I turn my head, Mike is standing not too far behind us.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  “Hi.” He walks toward the table and sits down at the far end. “Is he...can he...is he smart?”

  His question catches me off guard. “He’s very bright for a four year old. He learns quickly,” I say. When Mike doesn’t say anything, I continue. “He’s very good with his hands. He holds the pencil well. Not many four years olds have that sort of control.” I look down to Mikey’s hand, grasping the crayon. Most four year olds I’ve come into contact with hold the pencil either in a fist grip or use four fingers to grasp. Mikey has a perfect three finger grasp and controls the pencil very well.

  “You should get him piano lessons,” I say.

  Mike scoffs. “He’ll learn to play guitar.”

  I laugh. “Of course he will.” I shake my head at my own absentmindedness.

  Mike shifts in his seat. “I was thinking if you wanted to take Mikey out today, I’d be okay with you doing that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You’ve had a rough time since we got here. You should get out, see a bit of the town.” He stands up from his chair and walks toward the kitchen.

  “Thank you Mike. I really appreciate it.”

  I don’t waste any time. I pack up the pencils and paper from the table and quickly run up to the bedrooms to grab our jackets. I change my top, brush my hair and apply a bit of lip gloss.

  When I come back into the living room, Mike and Mikey are sitting on the floor singing.

  “Down came the rain and washed poor Indsy out.” Mikey is showing Mike the hand actions. “Out came the sunshine and dried up all the rain. So the Indsy Indsy spider climbed up the spout again.”

  When the song finishes Mikey smiles. Mike stares at his son as though he’s seeing him for the first time. “You look just like your mum,” Mike says.

  “She had black hair like me.”

  “She did.”

  “But it was long, like Indsy’s.”

  Mike nods.

  “My mum died because she was very sad,” Mikey says.

  Mike is still nodding, only now, his eyes have shifted to the small space between him and Mikey.

  “I tried to make her happy, but she cried all the time.” Mikey looks down too. “My mummy is asleep now. But I think Indsy is going to be my new mum.”

  I bite on my lower lip to stop a noise from escaping me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in through my nose.

  “Mike?” Mikey asks, his eyes lifting to look at Mike.

  “Yeah, little man.”

  “Will you be my daddy?”

  My heart breaks. Mikey has no idea that Mike is his father. And suddenly I feel like I shouldn’t be watching this private interchange. But at the same time, I am very interested to hear what Mike’s response is going to be.

  He nods his head and smiles. “Yes. I will be your dad.”

  Mikey smiles and sits up on his knees. “And Indsy will be my mum.”

  Mike laughs. “Lyndsay will be our friend. But she can’t be your mum because you can only have one mum.”

  “Oh.” Mikey falls back onto his bottom. “But you’ll still be my dad?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay.” Mikey stands up and walks towards his toys in the corner. And just like that, I’ve been demoted from mother to friend.

  But at least now, he has a father.

  I’m tying Mikey’s shoes when
Mike comes into the living room. He’s wearing a black baseball cap and sunglasses.

  “I was thinking I might join you for a few hours, if that’s okay?”

  When Mike saw me getting ready to leave, he asked what I had planned. I told him I thought we’d just walk down to the corner and catch the red sightseeing bus and stop off a few landmarks. It wasn’t anything too exciting, but it was better than being stuck in the apartment again.

  “Sure. If you’d like to,” I say, standing up.

  “I have to be back here by midday, but I can find my own way back if you want to stay out longer.”

  I smile at him. “Okay.”

  Mikey takes Mike’s hand. “Let’s go,” he says and suddenly I feel like I’m the fifth wheel.

  “Do you want to take Mikey out alone? Just the two of you?”

  Mike looks at me and shakes his head. “No. I want you to come.”

  “Come on Indsy,” Mikey says, holding his other hand out for me.

  I take it and as we walk together toward the lifts, Mikey chatting excitedly between Mike and I, I get a very strange feeling of...I can’t explain what this feeling is. It feels strange and odd but at the same time, it feels perfectly natural.

  We ride the bus until we get to the Opera House. Mikey is a bit hesitant about getting off the bus, but Mike assures him we’ll get to ride it again.

  I take photos with Mike’s phone of him and Mikey together in front of the iconic landmark. Then, Mike insists we take a “selfie” of the three of us together. We squeeze in together, Mikey between Mike and I and Mike snaps a few photos. And it annoys me to no end that he won’t let me look at any of them. And he knows it. He smiles that smug smile and puts his phone away.

  We get back onto the bus and get off at the next stop, at the Botanic Gardens. The sun is shining now and after this morning’s rain, everything looks fresh and alive.

  As I walk through the gardens with both the Mike’s I begin to feel something I haven’t felt for what seems like a long time. I start to feel relaxed.

  Mikey runs ahead and hides behind a large tree and Mike is pretending he can’t find him.