A LIFE MADE OF LAVA

by Del, Lissa

  Nick’s head pivots toward me so fast I think he might have given himself whiplash, but it’s Evie who speaks. “To your dad’s?”

  “Well, yeah. It’s only Sunday lunch and it’s not far from here, I just thought I could show him my dad’s medals. He might like that. And I’ll keep my cell phone on me the whole time.”

  “Julia, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nick begins, but Evie cuts him off.

  “What time will you be back?”

  “Before seven.”

  “Evie, it’s Sunday,” Nick murmurs, in a way which implies that Sunday holds some special meaning for them.

  “Yeah, but he’s…” Evie stops, takes a deep breath, starts again. “Does he want to go?”

  It takes me a second to realise she’s talking to me. “I think he does.”

  Nick is looking at me, so he misses it, but I don’t. Evie closes her eyes, just for a second, but the flash of grim determination is impossible to miss. It’s just lunch, I want to say. He’s still yours.

  But I don’t say anything because the moment is over as quickly as it comes and Evie is smiling up at me.

  “Are you sure he won’t be in the way?”

  “I’m sure. My dad loves kids, too, so he’ll be grateful for the company.”

  “Evie,” Nick’s voice is harder but she shifts Casey onto his other knee – the one not occupied by Dylan – and gets to her feet.

  “I’d prefer it if you take my car,” she says. Behind her, I catch a glimpse of Nick’s face and I want to take it all back, but Jesse’s depending on me. I can’t bear the thought of letting him down now. Taking a deep breath, I smile at Nick.

  “We’ll see you later,” I say. He doesn’t respond.

  The journey home is far quicker by car than it would be by bus. Jesse has fallen silent in the back seat, probably worried about meeting my dad, but I keep up a running commentary as we drive.

  “Do you know I used to play on this street,” I tell him, pointing down a side road as we pass. My friend had one of those above ground swimming pools and, for some reason, it was so much more fun than a regular pool.”

  “What’s an above ground swimming pool?”

  “You’ve never seen one?” I mock tease. “Oh, Jesse boy, you haven’t lived until you’ve swum in a portable pool!”

  He catches my eye in the rear-view mirror and shakes his head as if the very thought is beneath him, but secretly, I know he’s starting to enjoy himself.

  “We’re here,” I say as I pull up to the curb and kill the engine. “You ready?”

  Jesse gives me a quick nod and follows me to the door. I let myself into the apartment and hang my key on the hook beside the door. “Dad?”

  “I’m in here, Ju-Ju!”

  I take a few steps down the hall only to realise Jesse isn’t following me. “Come on,” I beckon.

  My dad is sitting on the edge of the bath, repairing the broken towel rail.

  “Dad! After two years you finally got around to that?”

  “I did,” he replies evenly. “Turns out I’m a lot more productive without you hanging around and being all needy.”

  “Very funny. Dad,” I add, drawing Jesse into the cramped bathroom. “This is Jesse. He’s going to be spending the afternoon with us.”

  My dad lowers his head to peer at Jesse over his horn-rimmed spectacles. “Is that so?”

  Jesse’s throat bobs in time with his head.

  “Well in that case, you better earn your lunch, Jesse. Hand me that screwdriver, will you?”

  I hover in the doorway letting my dad do all the talking, until I feel that Jesse is comfortable enough to be left alone with him. “I’m just going to put lunch on,” I say tentatively. Jesse barely notices, but he nods and I take that as an ‘okay’.

  By the time the chicken is sizzling in the oven and the potatoes are on the boil, Jesse and my dad have worked up an appetite.

  “Munch on this,” I tell them, setting out a plate of cheese and biscuits, “but not too much or you’ll ruin your lunch.”

  My dad leans over and nudges Jesse’s shoulder with his own. “What does she think we are, kids?”

  Jesse grins and takes two biscuits from the plate. “Julia said you used to be a jockey,” he says.

  “I was indeed.” My dad lowers his voice to a hush. “In fact, I was one of the best. Would you like to see some of my races?”

  As they head into the living-room, I feel my eyes prickle. All Dad’s races are on disc, neatly labelled and organised in date order, courtesy of my mom, who was his number one fan. He hasn’t watched any of them since the accident. I wait until I hear the tinny voice of the commentator before I realise I’ve forgotten the potatoes and, such is my good mood, that I decide to mash them instead.

  17

  Nick

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Evie, please don’t play dumb.”

  She sighs and shifts Casey, who has fallen asleep on her lap. Her legs must be aching. Automatically I set Dylan on the sofa beside me and lift Casey off her.

  “Please pull that blanket over her,” Evie says as I set Casey down on the sofa opposite. I pause. It’s hot out. Casey is sweating, but, even as I think it, Evie wraps her arms around herself and gives a little shiver.

  “It’s not cold, babe,” I say, keeping my voice neutral and covering her with the blanket instead.

  “Oh.” I hear the tiniest hint of fear and then she’s reaching for Dylan. “All the more reason to snuggle!” she growls into his neck.

  Evie falls asleep in front of the TV. Dylan is still watching, heavy-eyed, when I get up to start dinner. I open the fridge and poke around inside it, taking inventory. Eggs, mushrooms, ham… omelettes it is, then. I glance up at the clock while I’m beating the eggs. It’s six o’clock, an hour until Julia brings Jesse home. I still don’t know why Evie went along with it. It’s something we need to talk about, but these days I’m finding it more and more difficult to confront her. I feel as if any additional stress will make her even more sick.

  “No, push off!” I hiss at the cat, which is weaving around my legs. He flicks his tail and regards me with intent cat-hate, the most visual kind. “You’re getting far too comfortable around here,” I add, pouring the beaten eggs into the pan.

  “Who are you talking to?” Evie yawns from the doorway.

  “The cat.” I point down at my feet and she steps forward to lean over the island. “We can’t keep calling him the cat,” I add, chopping the ham into bite-sized pieces. “Maybe we should think of a name for him? He doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.”

  A pink hue creeps across Evie’s cheeks. “Can I help?” she asks, coming to stand beside me at the stove and tossing the small pan of mushrooms so they sizzle anew.

  “Yeah, can you set four places?” I move all the cooking paraphernalia off the island and wipe it down with a cloth.

  “You’re so domesticated,” Evie teases, setting two ceramic and three plastic plates down on the granite top.

  “Jesse’s not here,” I remind her.

  “Oh, of course.” She puts one back.

  “Why did you let him go with her?”

  “With Julia? She has a name, you know.”

  “Evie.” I hate it when she tries to distract me.

  Evie closes the cutlery drawer and gives me a long look before she answers. “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I might not always be here. I think it’ll be good for the kids to form a bond with someone else.”

  “She’s not their mother.”

  “I know that, Nick. I am their mother, but what happens if I’m not here?”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Death isn’t the be all and end all of this. What if I have to be hospitalised?”

  “Then I’ll make a plan.”

  “You’re already spending too much time out of the office. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you can’t d
o everything.”

  I slam the spatula down on the countertop. “Do you really think that if you’re not here I’ll allow Julia to continue living in this house?”

  Evie seems to shrink in on herself, and her eyes dart guiltily from left and right. “Oh my God. You do. You actually do.”

  “If something happens…”

  “Nothing’s going to-”

  “If!” she yells. “I said if! And if something happens, I would want someone here to help you with the children, yes. And since they’re already bonding with Julia, it makes sense that she should stay.”

  “Julia isn’t going to be here forever, Evie. She’s a young, ambitious woman who’s been dealt a bad hand and is still recovering, but once she gets back on her feet, can you really see someone like her sticking around? Your plan is ridiculous! All you’re doing is setting our children up to lose another mother!”

  The words have barely left my mouth but I wish I could take them back. They’re like lava, a corrosive, acidic poison that threatens to expose the deepest, darkest, ugliest part of me. I’ve spent months convincing myself that Evie is going to get better, and I did it so well that I haven’t even allowed myself to consider any other alternative. The fear and doubt were locked away, buried, but now the shadows have been exposed. It’s like my very own cancer – creeping, crawling, consuming everything else.

  Evie isn’t unaffected either. As my words pour over her, she stumbles backward as if trying to escape them. Her eyes are wild, her mouth slack-jawed and her face drains of what little colour it had to begin with.

  I reach for her, but she holds up her hands, a silent warning for me to stay away. We stare at each other, saying nothing, while the smell of burning eggs fills the kitchen.

  “Evie, I didn’t mean… I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry.”

  Her lips are pressed together so tightly they’ve gone white, but when she finally opens her mouth, a little colour bleeds back. “It’s okay. It’s the truth.”

  “No,” I slide the pan off the burner and rush round the island to snatch up her hands. It’s like holding two blocks of ice. “We are going to get through this. You are going to get through this. This is not about me and you, it’s about Julia. She won’t be here long - no, listen to me, please,” I add as she opens her mouth to protest. “I understand that she’s helping and taking a lot off your plate, but I don’t think it’s right that you encourage this relationship with our children. She’s a nanny, nothing more.”

  Evie shakes her head, slowly, sadly, and then she takes a deep breath. “How do you propose we stop it, Nick? Julia is taking care of them, she’s there for them. She’s kind and caring and perfect. How can we possibly stop them falling in love with her?”

  The question hangs in the space between us. I drop my eyes first.

  Jesse and Julia arrive back home ten minutes before seven. Evie’s taking a long bubble bath, one of her favourite traditions. Every few minutes I hear the geyser groaning as she refills the tub with hot water. She can do that for hours until she’s used it all up.

  “Dad!” Jesse is more animated than I’ve seen him in weeks, his face alive with excitement. He even holds my hand as he recounts stories of Julia’s dad and how many races he’d won, who his fiercest competition was and how he had let Jesse try on all his medals.

  “Sounds like you had a blast, champ,” I tell him, trying to hide my delighted surprise. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed this Jesse, the sweet, lively young man he had been before Evie’s remission failed. I meet Julia’s eyes over Jesse’s head and give her a brief nod of thanks. She smiles shyly in return and Jesse races upstairs to tell Evie his tales.

  I regard Julia for a moment, recalling my discussion with Evie and my promise to be nicer to her. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” I ask.

  “Yeah, sure,” she shrugs.

  “How are you still single?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  I laugh, thinking of the obvious conclusion she must have drawn. “What I mean is, you seem really nice, you know? And you’re pretty,” I admit, “and obviously smart. I’d expect you to be dating at least.”

  She hesitates for a minute and then drops onto one of the chairs at the kitchen island, her voice is so soft at first that I have to strain to hear her.

  “I was engaged. We broke up about two years ago.”

  “What happened?” I find I’m genuinely curious.

  “We grew apart.”

  I can’t hide a smile. “You know, I’ve heard that expression at least a dozen times and I’ve always said it’s complete bullshit.” Julia’s too surprised to answer so I save her the hassle. “You don’t just grow apart, not unless you allow it,” I explain. “Do you think there haven’t been times in the past eighteen years when Evie and I started to drift apart? Staying together is hard work, but you either want to, or you don’t.”

  “My mother died.”

  Oh fuck.

  “Julia, Christ, I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t be, I wasn’t finished! I probably shouldn’t have opened with that statement. Anyway, my mom died in the same accident in which my dad lost his leg. Aaron and I had been travelling but I had to come home, to take care of my dad.”

  “And… Aaron, did you say his name was?” She nods. “And Aaron didn’t want to stay with you?”

  “I didn’t want him to put his life on hold for me.”

  “He didn’t think it was worth it?” Sounds like an idiot.

  She smiles and I’m struck by the thought that I might have said that out loud. “We thought that it was a temporary situation. The plan was that I would join him again after a few months.”

  “But that didn’t happen?” I vaguely remember Evie telling me that Julia’s father couldn’t find work.

  “No.” She doesn’t elaborate. She tilts her chin, just like Evie does when her pride is pricked. I know from experience not to push a woman who sets her jaw like that, so I let it go.

  “Well, I’m sure you’re better off without him,” I say.

  Julia smiles, a dazzling flash of teeth that lights her up from the inside. “You know, I’ve heard that expression at least a dozen times and I’ve always said it’s complete bullshit.”

  18

  Evie

  When the doorbell rings at 8 o’clock on Monday morning I assume it’s Kat. Julia left just a few minutes ago to do the school run and Nick left early to get started on a new bid.

  “It’s open!” I call as I pass by the door on my way to turn on the coffee machine. Except it’s not Kat who walks into the kitchen. It’s Ian.

  “Hey you! What are you doing here so bright and early?” He looks good, all decked out in his smart blues for work. Navy pants, blue and white checked shirt, black shoes, and his sandy hair has been cut since we saw him on Saturday night. It’s shorter than I’m used to, but it suits him.

  Ian gives me a hug, practically lifting me off my feet. “I just wanted to check up on you. You looked a little out of it when you left on Saturday.”

  He’s got that look on his face, the one he gets sometimes when he thinks no one else is watching. I know it well, it’s an expression of my own making. Ian and I had kissed, once, a few weeks after Nick and I started dating. I adored Nick, but I was nineteen years old, and nobody knows what they want when they’re nineteen and have had three quarters of a bottle of tequila.

  Nick had gone on a trip to Greece with his parents, who I hadn’t met yet, and Ian, Kat and I decided to go clubbing one Saturday night. Truth be told, we’d been clubbing on the Friday night too, but that’s not the point. Nick and I hadn’t been together long enough for our awesome foursome to have really bonded, and it was nice to hang out with Kat and Ian, who I’d known for some time already. To this day I’m not sure if it was me or Nick who became friends with Ian first. I think we both knew him, separately, which had worked out well when we got together. That particular night Kat had hooked up with a foreign exchange student
who was two years her junior and didn’t speak a word of English. Apparently he spoke in literal ‘tongues’, because Kat’s face was glued to his for most of the evening, leaving Ian and I to our own devices. For me, that meant tequila. For Ian, it was the perfect opportunity to get months’ worth of built-up sexual tension off his chest.

  We were outside getting some air when Ian dropped the bomb. “I love you, Evie.”

  I threw my arms around him, sloshing beer over his shirt. “Aw, I love you too!”

  “No, Evie.” He pushed me gently away. “I love you. I am in love with you.”

  “Ian…” I leaned back warily, suddenly feeling awkward. “I don’t think you should…”

  He cut right across me. “Let me get this out, please.”

  I fell silent.

  “It kills me to see you with Nick. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s not the one for you. I know you, Evie, I know what makes you smile and I know what makes you cry. I also know I should’ve said something sooner, but…”

  “Then why are you telling me this now?” I didn’t like him speaking badly of Nick and my tone carried a warning that he completely ignored.

  “Because if I don’t, it might be too late. It’s not too late, Evie. You’ve only been with Nick a couple of weeks, it’s not serious.”

  I had been thinking along the same lines but hearing him say it annoyed me. It also made me realise that Nick and I might be more serious than I’d been willing to let myself believe. “Ian, I really don’t think…”

  He seized my shoulders. “Stop thinking! That’s exactly the problem. Just listen to your heart for once. How does this make you feel?” His voice had dropped, so low I had to strain to hear him as he ran his thumbs slowly down my bare arms. My stomach did a little wiggle-jerk-jump, which, I have since learned, it does whenever someone tickles my bare arms, but which I thought, at the time, meant there was something I must have missed between me and Ian.

  His smile was smug. He’d felt my shiver and mistaken it for something deeper. Hell, I mistook it for something deeper. It was only when his lips touched mine and his tongue swooped triumphantly inside my mouth that I realised it was a mistake. Nick’s kisses left me breathless and desperate for more. I’d cling to him like a drunken dryad. Ian’s kiss was polished, practised and left me cold. We were going through the motions, nothing more.