Tender (A britpop era fiction)

Married With Children

I sit in the armchair in our bedroom with crossed legs, our cat McFly sleeping on my lap and pondering I turn the piece of paper in my hand again and again, staring at the two numbers written on it. My mobile phone I hold in my other hand and it feels cold and heavy. 

I should just do it. I have to do it. 

Whats the big deal, I try to convince myself. It's Li. I've spoken to him all my life.

Except for the last five years, the nagging little voice in the back of my head intervenes. 

And if you're honest with yourself, you haven't really talked to him much in the years before. 

You can't even remember your last proper conversation.

Yes, I actually can. It involved the names Lisa and Molly. And a lot of shouting.

But the little voice already made me uncertain. I look at the number under the name Liam again.

Don't think too much about it.

 I unlock my phone and start to type the first numbers in with trembling hands. 

"Mam?"

I look up, hiding the piece of paper in my hand. Paul stands in the door frame in his plaid pyjamas, his hair ruffled. 

"What is it?" I ask quietly. 

"Can't sleep" He looks a bit lost standing there barefoot, rubbing his eyes. "Where's dad?"

I shiver. With a fake smile I look at him.

"He'll be back soon." 

I wish I'd be as sure as I sound. Damon was blind with fury as he stormed out of the house. I've seen him like that before and I know he's probably somewhere in a pub getting wasted. Or with Graham. 

It was a huge fight, an unintended one and therefore all the worse. I don't think we've fought like that for years. And the more I tried to calm him down and make him think about Missys and Lennons point of view, about a reasonable way to deal with the situation, the angrier he got until I lost my patience and started to bite back at him frustrated. In the end, it got really loud. And then Damon left the house, slamming the door behind him just like Missy did. 

Paul looks at me for a moment, then casting his eyes down to his naked feet.

"Mam, don't...don't lie to me" he mumbles. "I heard you."

"I'm sorry you had to." I'm immediately guilt-stricken. Having the kids hearing their parents fighting with each other is the last thing I want. I stand up, carefully lifting the cat from my lap and putting it on the chair. The note vanishes in the pocket of my jacket.

"C'mon Ringo, I'll make us a hot chocolate."

"I already brushed my teeth."

"We'll make an exception." I put my hand on his shoulder and guide him out of the room down the stairs. Paul snuggles into the couch and I go into the kitchen, preparing two cups of hot chocolate. As I walk back with a cup in each hand I stop for a moment and watch him as he's slouched under the blanket and chews on his fingernails.

Quietly I hand him his one and sit down next to him. Paul kicks enough from the blanket aside so I can snuggle under it. I make sure his feet are covered and wait until he starts to talk. It's always better to give him the time he needs. 

"Are you getting a divorce now?"

Shocked I turn around to my son.

"Why in Gods name d'ya think that?" I ask distraught. Paul shrugs.